Blood Tears
by Sian

Series: Adventures With Mace & Jame
Rating: NC-17
Category: H/C, Angst, Action/Adventure
Summary: Someone doesn't want the offspring of certain Senators to have a good time
Archive: Yes to MA, but I'll send the completed fic upon completion and partial coding. My site at www.hawksong.com/sian eventually
Feedback: On or off list is fine and muchly appreciated.
Disclaimer: Not mine unless you don't recognize it, and no offense is intended to George, Jude or anyone else who's created the playground.
Cudos and Thanks to Lori & Christy for their rushed review. This was supposed to go into Rituals & Meditations II, but I couldn't wait for the publication to come out, nor really wait for folks to fix it for me. I've had such a dry spell in writing that I needed some sort of progress ...

Ostensibly tasked to chaperone a group of offspring of prominent senators and other notable politicians, Siri Tachi had talked four more Jedi padawans into helping, into performing their duties through interaction instead of just watching from the walls, and into not wearing the standard garb of their Order, although more closets than five had needed to be raided to pull that off.

Their appearances had been mostly successful; any casual outsider would have been hard pressed to pick out the Jedi after the first hour from any of the other young adults out on the dance floor. Pleasantly as the hours had passed, with the first hints of day beginning to overtake the darkness however, the padawans were more than ready to return responsibilities over to the normal retainers and aides now arriving to take their charges home.

As diplomatically as possible they were overlooking the spate of disappointment and cruder protestations being vocalized, although Siri was again finding herself needing to fend off one of the more amorous and now, thoroughly drunk, revelers who insisted she come home with him. From her fellow padawans she was getting only laugher instead of help.

Abruptly the laughter ended between one breath and the next.

In the next instant as if choreographed, the five took a step away from their charges, their attention shifting inward to the warning being whispered from the Force, before expanding all awareness outward. Siri quickly took in the locations of her fellows and frowned, though it could have been worse. Garen Muln was already to the far side of the courtyard, gone to verify the credentials of those waiting. Reeft and Bant, along with the first twenty-odd sons and daughters, had begun to filter out and start the queuing for the rides. Leaving her and Obi-Wan Kenobi to deal with the stragglers.

Almost to the door herself, Siri felt the danger becoming more imminent. But she couldn’t tell from where, couldn’t draw her lightsaber as a precaution as she sensed Reeft and Bant doing. The drunk’s clumsy fumblings that had at first only been annoying, were now endangering everyone and so she quickly called on the Force to augment her escape, adding a swipe of telekinesis to push the two ahead of her up the stairs and out before following them herself. She had little attention to waste on explanations -- or apologies.

And even less time.

The instant she cleared the door Siri's gaze met Bant's, both women unable to keep an expression of horror from overtaking them as they realized that Obi-Wan and those most resistant to leaving would not make it out in time. Such knowledge was not theirs alone; Reeft was grabbing at Garen in an attempt to keep their towering friend from pushing his way back through the milling – and now beginning to panic -- crowd.

As their own reactions were adversely influencing those around them, so too was it the Jedi’s responsibilities to deal with the crowd first. Despite any wishes to the contrary.

Siri’s frowned deepened. She turned an experienced eye to scan for flashpoints that could escalate the situation into something completely out of control, quickly signaling for Bant to head off one of the security men who'd not holstered his weapon when the Jedi had their own. For herself, she headed toward one of the younger women just screwing up her face to let loose a scream.

Even as Siri sought to counteract the woman’s impending hysterics, she felt her own control slipping and yearned to scream herself that she might drown out the Force’s own escalating pressure. As if she could block the vision of prescience slipping in front of her mind’s eye. Block her guilt.

But then she felt a wave of calm similar to that which she was attempting to project being directed toward her. Along with a feeling of absolution and acceptance. Before she could respond or even react, those foreign emotions then narrowed into the unique focus of determination and resolve that had been Obi-Wan in her mind for as long as he’d known him. Followed by mental shielding – his, her own – that threw Siri back into her own mind, alone save for the Force.

Even as she pushed down those closest to her, protecting the woman underneath her with her own body, Siri found herself blinking back sudden tears and holding her breath. Only for an instant, and then the thunder and sheer chaos of a massive explosion overwhelmed thought and senses alike.

The cobblestones of the courtyard flexed and buckled as if liquid. The fascia sheered right off the club, glass, brickwork and then metal exploding outward in all directions as the shockwave immediately bounced off the surrounding buildings and the cascade began in the surrounding levels.

Given that Coruscant-the-city had long ago encompassed all of the land of Coruscant-the-planet, any further influx of people drawn to this ruling seat of the Galactic Republic meant that the only available space to build to house them, was up. And so the planners and developers had years ago begun designing buildings that not only rose upward far enough that atmospheric compensators and attenuators were necessary to provide viable air, but buildings that would also withstand the vagaries of decay and destruction that might occur at any level without plunging the entire arcology in on itself. All of which meant that when the bomb was set off in the level above the club, only the floors of the levels above and below, and a few extra support columns were engulfed.

Siri, as she knew the others would also be doing, quickly gathered the Force to her in an attempt to contain and redirect the shattered, melted and splintered rain of debris. A few bits and pieces got through, and as something cut through the silk of her shirt and deep into her arm, Siri lost some of her focus. Which enabled a few more shards to get through.

Long moments passed in which she could see nothing but clouds of dust, ash and smoke, could hear only the blunted screams of frightened people and wounded property over the ringing in her ears and the pounding of her own elevated pulse. She could sense nothing but fear and pain, was needing to breath shallowly; all too aware that dust would be the least of what she was inhaling.

Siri kept her eyes closed so that she might be able to use them once things settled. Too, she drew more deeply on the Force, clutching at its comfort even as she sought to release her own fears and other crippling emotions back into it.

Five minutes passed before she could feel an appreciable drop off of the debris impacting against the Force shielding she'd raised, and before she felt centered enough to also lower her mental shielding and reach beyond the chaotic jangle from the others in a sensing for further danger. Discordant little beacons of misery painted her mind's eye and the Force like the laser show some of the younger padawans had choreographed last Founder's Day. A shading of colors to match the degrees of injury whether mental or physical, but no where did she sense the complete absence of the light each living creature exhibited within the Force that would have spoken to her of death.

Not even back in what little was left of the club.

A wash of tears that she didn't even try to convince herself was from the irritants in the air, and then Siri was rising from her crouched position and immediately searching out with all of her senses and abilities in concert to properly access the situation and what actions would need to be first undertaken. She was not the only one so moving, those who'd come to take the partiers home having been mainly at the fringes of the area were now fighting amongst themselves to see who would assume control.

Not on her watch!

"Garen, see if you can find a way back into the club while Reeft, Bant and I handle the triage here until the emergency techs arrive," she commanded with an air of authority worthy of her master’s, and with the Force. Of all the Jedi present, her master's reputation and connections within the Senate gave her better opportunity to keep things from devolving from a rescue into political posturing and attempts of brinksmanship.

Yes, she desperately wanted to help rescue Obi-Wan and those others trapped within herself, but even if one of the others could better control the crowd, she couldn't move the arm that had taken injury. And while she had as much Force strength as any of the others -- except maybe Obi-Wan – she feared that physical strength would also be necessary.

Would that both would prove enough. *****

For an instant Garen balked at following Siri's lead, but then he shook his head and pulled away from a young Trandoshan who'd been clutching at him in panic before gaining his feet. Being contrary just for its own sake made little sense, especially considering Siri had instructed him to do what he would have assigned to himself had he been the one to issue the order first. It wasn't even as if he and Siri still concerned themselves with the rivalry that had plagued them years ago while competing for Obi-Wan's friendship. With all of their crčche group now senior padawans and extremely active in the field, there was rarely time to say hello to one another assuming there were passing through the Temple at the same time, much less time to keep childish jealousies alive.

But some habits were hard to give up. Especially around Siri, who'd never quite gotten over her arrogance of being the only padawan chosen by a current member of the High Council.

As if Qui-Gon Jinn hadn't been the master they had all hoped to be apprenticed to when they were initiates, over Adi Gallia or any Council Member. Including Master Yoda.

That thought had Garen wondering just what the renowned Qui-Gon Jinn was doing at the same moment he moved to assess the level of damage. Although Obi-Wan had been notoriously skimpy on details, Garen had heard enough to know that more than just their training relationship had changed between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan after the mission on T'ias. The Order's premiere master-padawan pair had already had an enviable closeness in their training bond, but from what Bant had observed and gossiped about during the business of Councilor Plo Koon's death, it seemed as if Obi-Wan and his master’s link was now possibly telepathic. Garen had little doubt, therefore, that Qui-Gon Jinn wasn’t aware that something distressing had happened to his padawan.

Which was now up to Garen to determine the nature of. And its severity.

Where once stood the door to the club, a slab of jagged permacrete and the slagged remains of part of the floor above now blocked reentry. With the Force Garen sensed if there was a possibility of clearing the way, but felt a solid obstruction of at least ten meters before him. Instead of wasting time by cursing at the bad luck, Garen tuned out the leadenness of the inorganic material and reached now for an awareness of what might lay beyond the compacted rubble.

And let go the breath he'd been holding when seven unique auras delineated themselves.

The one he'd known for almost fifteen years was somewhat muted, but also without any deep shadow of injury. In fact he could feel no such shadow over any of the seven still trapped within, and so breathed a deeper sigh of relief.

When he didn't feel a returned measure of relief come from Obi-Wan when their consciousnesses brushed across one another, Garen found himself then licking his lips nervously. He decided (hoped!) the continued mental distance between them was because of an extraordinary level of attention to something else on his best friend's part. Yet the only thing he could imagine needed such single-mindedness, would be keeping some significant danger at bay. Like holding up a substantial portion of wreckage. But no padawan had that kind of training, could tap that much power --

Certainly not for any great length of time.

Which meant that even should Garen find -- or create -- an opening in which the others could then use to escape, Obi-Wan might be unable to make his own way free before several metric tons of debris came crashing down.

Certainly not without a lot of help.

Garen turned his head to take in the status of the rescue operations. Given the importance of the people they'd been protecting, Coruscant Security had already appeared, and many of the revelers had already been whisked away. Those significantly injured were being treated on-site as needed, or loaded into hovering medical vehicles. A perimeter of defense was also being set up overhead and, no doubt, some of the security forces were already beginning a search for the perpetrators of the attack.

Bant, being the only trained healer among the five Jedi, was assisting with the injured while Siri, being injured herself Garen could now see, was leaning against one of the local police units and filling in the investigators as to what had happened. More or less hovering at Bant's side, Reeft was assisting, but it looked as if enough medical personnel had arrived for Garen to conscript the Dresselian for his own uses.

"Reeft, to me," he rumbled before turning back to the task of finding a way of freeing Obi-Wan and the rest. Surely there had to be some pockets of open space remaining --

Damn! Yes there were, but he could only sense them low to the floor with less than a meter of clearance. Garen could too easily envision the trapped needing to crouch or kneel in one of the those pockets, some maybe even being prone. No doubt Obi-Wan was protecting them as best he could, not only with the Force but with his physical presence.

Meaning Garen would need to create an opening closer to the courtyard's cobblestones for it to be affective. And hope that those inside were far enough away that once the blades of his and Reeft's sabers breached the wall, no one would be endangered.

"We've got to cut out a block down here," Garen gestured to a relatively unblemished portion of the lower wall as Reeft ran up. "It feels as if Obi-Wan is keeping everything from complete collapse, but he's not going to be able to do so indefinitely -- and we'd need major equipment to dig out the doorway." He didn't need to explain that one of them might need to climb back into the devastation; all Jedi were trained in disaster recovery and, as senior padawans, they'd dealt with similar disasters on a variety of field missions, both those precipitated by nature, and those by intent, as this one had been.

Reeft nodded and dropped to his knees alongside Garen. They withdrew their sabers simultaneously and twin glows, one in a deep green, the other a red violet that was almost brown, punched through the gloom that was still part night and part dust. Given his greater height, Garen plunged his saber to the left and would cut his angle upward then across, while Reeft took the right and started downward to open up the bottom. Too, Garen would take the responsibility to keep the heavy block from tumbling inward, although depending on what the wall was actually made of, he might need Reeft's assistance in pulling it once they'd finished cutting it free.

Even a saber that could cut through just about anything but another saber, took time to breech permacrete and steel. A grunt from Reeft came just seconds before Garen felt his own blade pierce completely through, then both needed to turn their heads to escape breathing directly the fumes of what they'd begun to burn.

Just one more thing they needed worry about, not only on their own behalf, but also for those trapped beyond. What could already be limited air now stood to be contaminated with toxic residue from the burning building materials.

People began to loom over them as they worked, but neither padawan stopped long enough to do more than cast a quick glance back over their shoulders to assess any potential danger or usefulness. Garen managed to bury a groan as he recognized one of first arrivals from his and his master's own duty on Senate rotation. Not a bodyguard, but the esteemed senator from Onderon himself.

Which had to mean that one of the ones still trapped within was his daughter.

Terrific. Already unhappy with their relative anonymity and the internal-only accountability of the Jedi, Senator Marmon would no doubt be the first to cast blame on the protectors instead of those who'd set the bombs. And if his precious daughter was injured --

But thoughts of such an unhappy potential fled from Garen's mind in the next instant. Another flicker of warning was coming through the Force. Not another bomb he felt pretty certain, probably not an external threat at all. But the danger was very real, even without a new attack of some form.

Obi-Wan's control over the mass was slipping!

"Bant, Siri, I need at least one of you here --"

"They're both already gone, young Jedi."

Certainly not the words Garen wanted to hear, but he supposed he wasn't really surprised. It was quite likely Bant had been needed to travel along with at least one of the more severely injured, and there had been no question that Siri had needed medical attention herself. But that meant then that he or Reeft would need to somehow help Obi-Wan mentally instead of continuing their physical efforts, and that would create even further delays and add to more potential danger --

Before he could get a handle on what exactly he needed to levitate, Garen sensed Obi-Wan's mental prowess and shielding firm up on its own. It had to be Qui-Gon, although Garen had absolutely no idea how the absent master had managed it. The two were too far apart, and not even Master Yoda should have been able to breach such a gap. Then even that thought was put out of mind as Garen heard the first hint of voices from within. Quite close-by.

He raised his own voice to give instructions which he hoped might mask the sounds of the still shifting debris -- at least from Senator Marmon.

"Can you hear me in there?"

"Yes, yes!" came more than one scream, along with "Get us out of here," and "Hurry!"

As if that wasn't what they were already dedicated to doing.

But Garen swallowed the frown that too frequently took over his expression when dealing with hysterical civilians. And blithely ignored Reeft's eye rolling; they’d been friends for only a couple of years less than Garen and Obi-Wan. Garen knew he had a tolerance and patience problem, yet it would serve little purpose to acknowledge or -- even worse -- have it pointed out in front of even non-hostile witnesses.

Which the Senator now breathing over his neck most definitely was not.

"Are any of you injured?"

While Garen could still sense nothing untoward in that respect from the Force, he supposed any one of the trapped could have mental shields of their own. Although the Jedi diligently attempted to identify anyone who might have psychic potential so that they might get proper training even were they not candidates for becoming Jedi, certainly they missed finding some. Too, enough parents purposely kept their children from being tested, especially those who ruled or served the hundreds of thousands of governments comprising the Republic, from wanting their political power passed on to their heirs. Finis Valorum, the current Supreme Chancellor, was one such who might have become Jedi, had his parents not been more concerned with continuing their political dynasty than listening to the Will of the Force.

Too bad Crion of Telos hadn’t felt that way about his own son before sending him off to the Temple and eventually Qui-Gon as the master’s padawan prior to Obi-Wan …

But before his mind could fall back into the quagmire of angst and anger that still surged through Garen anytime he thought of how Xanatos’ fall to Darkness had affected Qui-Gon and, therefore Obi-Wan, he was being answered. And this time instead of the expected clamoring of multiple voices, it came from only one.

"Not really," spoke a female with an accent that sounded Onderonian. "None of us I mean, but Obi -- but the Jedi is … is … I don't think he's hurt, but he also hasn’t spoken, and even though it's dark in here, I don't think he's moved at all since shepherding us against the floor. I'm afraid he might be --"

"He's fine," Garen interrupted. "He's just … busy, doing … Jedi stuff." Garen didn't need to hear Reeft's bark of laughter to know his explanation was beyond lame, but how could he explain what Obi-Wan was doing without alarming them more? And when Garen didn't really understand it himself.

What Obi-Wan -- and somehow Qui-Gon-- were doing was patently impossible. But then, the impossible had been that pair's specialty ever since they returned to the Jedi Temple as master and padawan some eight years ago, after Obi-Wan had been shipped off to join the Agri-corp.

"Can you move around in there? I assume you're packed in rather cozily, but if you can arrange yourselves into some sort of order, we've just about cut through the block and will be able to start pulling you free. As you can see --" well no, she said they couldn't.

"The hole we are cutting can only handle one of you at a time," he began again. "We'll help you out, but we need your cooperation. If any of you are carrying anything, it would be better to leave it; I'll make sure it's recovered if possible."

"L'ling, you make sure you are first," Senator Marmon yelled past Garen's ear, much to the padawan's disgust – and a quick shock of pain from the volume and proximity.

Apparently L'ling wasn't any more pleased with her father, for an immediate embarrassed shriek of "Daddy!" overrode any other stupidity the senator might have been about to spout.

"Sirs, we will need the three of you to back up," came from Reeft unexpectedly to those hanging over them. The Dresselian sat back on his heels, having finished his part of the task, and was extinguishing and reattaching his blade to the belt before well hidden by his jacket. "As we pull them free, we will need you to help get them away from the building. The potential for danger is still imminent, so if, in fact, you would care to vacate the area completely once all six free, we can see about securing the structure from causing further damage."

Garen didn't even blink to hear Reeft exclude Obi-Wan from receiving the others' assistance. To begin with, there was the little problem of figuring out how they were going to get their friend free, since any direct contact on their part could disrupt Obi-Wan's concentration and bring about what they were desperate to avoid. Garen wasn't sure if he and Reeft together could take over what Obi-Wan was maintaining alone, and even if that was possible, he feared Obi-Wan wouldn't have enough energy left to get himself out.

What they really needed was at least one more Jedi to assist, not witnesses to what could still be at least a personal disaster.

But the first didn't seem likely to occur, even with Master Qui-Gon apparently knowing about the emergency. At least not in time, as Garen sensed another dip in shifting mass beyond.

"Okay, get ready," he growled out warning to everyone as he felt the last of his part in cutting the obstruction end. In the next instance Reeft was shifting away from the witnesses and back toward the wall, extending his hands and the Force along with Garen. The two of them pulled at the block to bring it outward before flinging it aside.

"Forward now!" Reeft shouted and reached to grasp with fingers and Force the first hand that was thrusting through.

A female, but Bothan, not L'ling from Onderon.

The two padawans handled her with more care but no less of the vigor they'd used in removing the permacrete block. Even as they deposited her in the hands of one of the rescue workers, the next of their charges was following on the Bothan's heels, propelling himself out of the hole with almost as much grace as would have a Jedi. He then turned to assist as the third of the six was maneuvering herself free.

This one was L'ling, who immediately began apologizing to the Jedi while ignoring her father. Apparently the final three other than Obi-Wan were male and concerned with their own reputations and how it would look to be freed before one of the women. Garen flashed her a grateful and knowing smile before she was whisked away by her father and the senator's personal physician. This left only one rescue worker to stay and help, but the first male rescued had also stayed and now reached out eager hands to steady the fifth rescuee and then the sixth.

Almost before Garen believed possible, all but Obi-Wan were free.

"Get going," Reeft instructed when none of the five moved to follow the medic who was trying to see to their welfare. To their further credit, all five hesitated and one even took a step back as if he was thinking of actually going back into the hole. But then a portion of the wreckage near the blocked doorway shifted, the noise of its collapse startling even the Jedi.

"Go on," Garen coughed out in the new dust this raised while reinforcing his command with a touch of Force compulsion. That broke their valiant paralysis, and the five scampered away with the medic.

"Garen!"

He all but growled at the note of incipient panic in Reeft's voice, but wasted none of his energy to answer as it was needed instead to deflect yet another section of tumbling debris. Garen could feel that Obi-Wan was yet safe, that in actuality their friend was now easing the strain on himself by letting go portions of the load. And Garen didn't doubt that Obi-Wan had an exact fix on the pattern that the interlocked rubble created; Obi-Wan's understanding and command of the Unifying Force was approaching at least a Knight's level of skill -- assuming he'd not already surpassed what would be necessary to demonstrate in his Knighthood trials. But Garen could sense that Obi-Wan was also approaching his limits -- had already exceeded them.

Nor did Garen have any real reassurance that Obi-Wan wasn't just directing the collapse in order to mitigate any further collateral damage outside of the club, not keeping -- or not able to keep -- a path free for his own rescue.

"Reeft, do you have a sense of him?" Perhaps he could augment what Obi-Wan was doing long enough for Reeft to pull him out.

Reeft's face was even grayer than normal, but the Dressellian nodded. "Can you take over his hold?"

Garen seriously doubted it, but had little choice and wasn't about to jinx their chances by admitting it. He simply crawled forward the last meter to take a position up directly against the wall opposite of Reeft on the other side of the hole. He let his eyes close so he might better visualize what would be involved, knowing Reeft would be doing the same. The call would be Reeft's.

As Garen began to overlap his intent with Obi-Wan's, he would need (and be given) only a instant's warning that he'd have Obi-Wan's task alone. Then hope for split second timing and all the luck and care the Force had to give them --

Which proved enough, though barely.

In the same moment as Reeft's 'now' was sounding in Garen's brain, he was suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that he was trying to hold up the entire building. But even as this sent him falling forward, barely cognizant enough to thrust his hands out to keep from busting his chin or nose against the courtyard now too quickly approaching his face, he then heard an explosive gust of breath being let loose, quickly followed by what sounded suspiciously like laughter.

Feeling suddenly giddy himself, Garen looked over his shoulder in time to see Obi-Wan execute an almost perfect set of rolls to stop his momentum from Reeft's rather fervent Force assist. The relief from that sight as well as the sudden flare of helpless anger that all their worry had been for naught -- even though he knew nothing had been as easy as it appeared -- destroyed Garen's control over his emotions and over the mass.

Although the new resulting dust cloud interfered with his sight as well as his breathing, Garen certainly could still hear as Obi-Wan’s laughter tinged into hysteria, then cut off abruptly in a moan. Through the Force Garen then felt a heart-stopping spike of agony overtake the other.

"Shit!"

Garen recognized immediately what they were facing and quickly severed his automatic mental probe into Obi-Wan's state.

Just over a year ago, Obi-Wan had been the first padawan -- actually the first of any Jedi in several generations -- to so overextend his Force abilities that a full-blown case of psychic shock had resulted. Additional cases had then followed, including Obi-Wan again, not only enough times that new courses in prevention and recognition had been added to the senior padawan curriculum, but also with such a prevalence that now aspiring Jedi healers and philosophers alike were debating whether or not this sudden increase in the number of incidents meant anything significant to the Order's future; perhaps the Force’s way of preparing them all for … something.

"It's psychic shock, Reeft," Garen warned through gasps that were both coughing and a touch of panic, unsure and unwilling to take the chance that Reeft had figured it out on his own.

Force use, not just from the injured, but from any use in close proximity, exacerbated psychic shock and could cause permanent damage to the one so afflicted should the usage persist. While the need to withdraw all active connections with the Force for Obi-Wan's sake meant Garen couldn't sense if Reeft was doing the same -- or even if Reeft had made out and understood his garbled warning -- he quickly assumed Reeft had figured out what was going on as Obi-Wan's distress didn't sound like it was increasing.

Garen's own distress would be, however, if he didn't get out of the cloud comprised of glass, metal and other building materials, as well as actual dust that he could no longer even partially shield himself from breathing in. Because he could only rely on senses mundane, all of which were compromised by the deadly environment, Garen was unable to avoid the something that sliced into his palm or the bruising and cuts he would no doubt find covering his legs from crawling over the debris-strewn cobblestones. Not that any of that stopped him from putting aside his own welfare to check on Obi-Wan’s.

"Obi-Wan?" While he hadn't completely lost his sense of direction, Garen wanted a better idea of his friend's position so that he didn't blithely pass him by entirely, or even worse in blinded haste, aggravate or actually cause some form of injury by misjudging and man-handling his friend.

Ahead and to his left came another moan. Then a spate of coughing that sounded like Reeft from even further to his left. Garen tested his progress by drawing in a little deeper breath than he had been doing. Sure enough, it caused him to cough as well, but he felt certain he'd not breathed in nearly as much dust as he'd been doing so initially. Either he'd reached the perimeter of the dust cloud or it was settling quicker than he could have hoped for.

Thus encouraged, he opened his eyes cautiously. And needed immediately to blink away sudden tearing.

He crawled a few more meters forward before trying again. This time both breath and sight came easier. He saw Reeft first, the two of them subconsciously moving closer together even as they moved toward Obi-Wan. Another few tight blinks and Garen then cracked a tired smile, although he carefully avoided licking at his dry and gritty lips. He had to be in the same state as Reeft, so dust-covered that the bright colors they'd worn in some form of childish rebellion to the drabness of their uniforms, were now just a uniform brown-gray as was any of their exposed skin. Indeed, bloodshot eyes were Reeft's only source of color, as even his tear-tracks revealed the only slightly darker, wrinkled gray of his flesh.

Obi-Wan was only a slightly more recognizable, as he had chosen dark colors instead of bright ones and so was a more distinct, dust-covered shadow crouching a few more meters ahead of them. A twitch across Obi-Wan's back as with a sharp clatter a piece of piping shifted and sprung out from beneath Reeft's hands as they continued to crawl forward, was the only evidence that their distressed friend was aware of their approach -- was even still alive.

To Garen it looked as if Obi-Wan had run into an invisible barrier; he was still hunched over in a tucked position from the roll, crouched over his legs with his back arched and his head tucked down toward his chest. His hands were over his head in either an attempt to protect it and his neck from more debris or, more likely, in an attempt to block out the noise and increasing light that was filtering in not only through the settling dust, but from the upper levels of the atmosphere with the rise of morning and the departure of the final aircars beyond the security perimeter still being enforced.

"This'll teach us not to wear our robes," Reeft whispered mournfully.

Garen could only nod as when any hope that he still might have been mistaken with regard to Obi-Wan's condition was dismissed as their friend finally lifted his head at their arrival and Reeft's touch. Garen knew his own eyes would look as bloodshot as Reeft's, but you could barely make out that Obi-Wan's even had irises. Red shaded both his tears and his sclera.

"Oh, fuck, Obi," Garen sighed and drew himself into a kneeling position that he might steady their friend. Wishing that Bant was still with them, he quickly ran his hands over the trembling body before them to see if he could feel any further injury, while also praying not to invoke any significant flinch. Not only did he regret not having a robe that they could bundle Obi-Wan within and raise the hood to try and shelter their friend's currently over-sensitive eyes and ears, but he also condemned himself for so quickly dismissing the last medic off with the others and, even more so, for not commandeering the medic's aircar for their own needs.

They were miles away from their own healers and the Temple. While they might be able to commandeer one of the security units still involved in the above investigations, Garen was concerned that in being so out of uniform, they might be pegged as the terrorists themselves or at least pulled in for questioning. And a prolonged discussion or temporary incarceration while things got properly sorted out, would not do Obi-Wan a bit of good.

Could actually do quite a bit of harm.

They couldn't even call for a private air car, at least not yet. Not until they moved up at least a handful of levels to where their personal comm-units might be working again – assuming any of them had remained undamaged from the blast that had fried most of the other electronics in the buildings surrounding them.

So more likely up to where they could find a working communications post. Except none of them were carrying the money for its use.

Nor could they use the Force to influence another to loaning them their vehicle or even driving them, not without creating even more agony and potentially permanent damage to Obi-Wan. Even traveling by public transit would be dicey; yes as Jedi they could travel for free, but they'd have to be damn convincing considering their current appearances to get a driver to agree to even let them board.

And he didn't think they could really wait for whomever Bant or Siri would have contacted, not even for Qui-Gon, assuming Obi-Wan's master was as aware of what was going on as Garen hoped.

"Reeft, help me get him up. We're going to have to go up a couple of levels and catch a public transport."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth and Garen thought he might have begun to say Qui-Gon, but no real sound came out, and Garen didn't give him the chance to strain anything more.

"Buddy, even if your master left the instant after the explosion, it will be almost an hour more before he'd be here, then almost two hours to get back. I'll make sure the driver contacts the Temple and lets them know were coming in. It's not like we won't be stopped mid route if so commanded by a Jedi Master."

Reeft was nodding and gently pulling Obi-Wan upright. Although Obi-Wan paled distressingly and swayed even with their supporting hands, he seemed to control what was likely a case of vertigo and subsequent nausea. He stood passive but alert, which encouraged Garen to think that the shock, which was significant enough, was Obi-Wan's only injury of concern.

"Ah, if we're going to interact with the public and hope not to get stopped or ignored, we'd better see if we can clean up a little," Reeft suggested just as Garen was about to get them moving.

Although Obi-Wan's eyes were closed and his face was nearly as caked as theirs', Garen was pretty sure he saw a wry grin twist the other's lips momentarily -- in match to his own. When they had all been young initiates, Reeft's constant concern was for food; his species having a much higher metabolism than humans even though they moved slower. Over the subsequent years Reeft had finally gotten his diet properly regimented (although Garen was sure he'd be eating as soon as the Dresselian got his hands on something, given the extra exertions of the past fifty minutes), and instead of whining about being hungry, now Reeft focused obsessively on his appearance and general cleanliness. Not enough to be compulsively washing his hands ever few minutes, of course, and not enough to disturb his friends or affect his abilities to do his duties, but just enough to remind them that no matter how they aged and grew apart, certain absolutes of personality would remain true: Reeft's odd yearnings and dogged loyalty, Bant's dedication and concern for others, Siri's arrogance and brilliant wit, Garen's own steadfastness and occasional bewilderment. And Obi-Wan's charm and wisdom.

Even when being nearly incapacitated by psychic shock.

"You both still have your jackets on?" he asked in a quiet croak.

Reeft and Garen exchanged glances, not following what seemed a total non-sequitor to the conversation.

Wondering if Obi-Wan's injury might have addled their friend's wits more than they suspected, Garen whispered, "Ah, yeah?" upon realizing their nods would not have been seen. (And that his normal speaking voice was causing difficulty from its volume.)

Even the women had been wearing jackets, as that was the only way to carry their lightsabers inconspicuously.

Absolutely sure this time of Obi-Wan's patient amusement and, whereas he never really bridled at his shortcomings being so pointed out whether from his friends or his master's words, this time Garen was deliriously happy to sense the gentle mockery, as he could take heart from Obi-Wan being able to give it.

"If we take off our jackets, our shirts underneath are not as dust covered," Obi-Wan continued slowly, in little more than a whisper. "And we can use the insides of the jackets to brush off the rest of us, then just fold the dusty side inward and over our arms …"

When Reeft looked as if he might protest the treatment of a jacket that cost more than their yearly allowance, Garen reached over and gently cuffed him across the ear. It was an efficient and elegant solution; clothes could be cleaned or replaced. Reeft's was probably already too far damaged to save anyway. Although none of the three of them were physically injured with any significance, Reeft still had blood on his hands and a splash across the front from his assisting Bant.

A broken water main took care of the blood and cleaning up their exposed skin. And for once their padawan haircuts proved useful as by the time they were ready to cross the courtyard and find a lift that was still working, all but their braids were already dry, and the spikiness of their uncombed tops simply looked stylish. Well, stylish on Obi-Wan. And at least on Garen and Reeft, it looked intentional.

There was nothing they could do about Obi-Wan's eyes, but then Obi-Wan wasn't really up to having them open for the damage to be seen anyway. Garen was also worried that even through his closed eyelids, the light of day, the call kiosks and the transport itself would be too much. Not to mention the growing level of noises they'd be exposed to as more of the city woke up.

At least the migraine did not seem to be making Obi-Wan too sensitive to being touched. Although their friend was determined to keep up as they needed to take a couple of sets of stairs before finding a lift that hadn't been turned off by the security patrols, Garen didn't expect Obi-Wan's current adrenaline boost to last long enough to get him home unassisted. Slipping him some extra energy through the Force was right out, of course …

He stayed next to Obi-Wan, a hand cupped under the other's elbow as they waited in a shadowed doorway for Reeft to call the next open transport to their location.

*******

Reeft was sorely tempted to let the first transport go on without them and hope for something better in the second. But one look toward Garen and Obi-Wan and he didn't need to use the Force to read Garen's concern.

Or Obi-Wan's difficulty for all that their friend was gamely staying on his feet.

Unfortunately this was not one of the transports utilized primarily by folks ending their night shifts in whatever endeavor and returning home to sleep. Instead it was filled with workers and students eager to start their day, and was set up with bright, artificial sunlight and cheerful, innocuous, and just a little too loud music to encourage those who might need an additional boost to their systems.

Before they'd moved much beyond the steps into the transport, Reeft could see blood tears once again glittering beneath Obi-Wan's lashes. But somehow he kept them from falling and just leaned heavier against Garen as they threaded their way toward the back and, hopefully, a quiet section. Reeft stayed up near the driver, waiting until the two had passed far enough away that his little Force-trick of levitating the driver's transit license proved at least he had a modicum of psychic ability. A flash then of his lightsaber and instructions to the driver to contact his dispatcher that they in turn could contact the Temple on three padawans' behalf, got them their free passage.

To Reeft's dismay, he easily caught up to Obi-Wan and Garen while they were still working their way through the other riders, arriving in time to hear a less than flattering comment about his two human friends' sexuality by one of the anti-authority youths that many of their charges had attempted to portray though their dark clothing had been artificially dirty and artistically torn. Even on planets as prosperous as Coruscant, there were those who turned from help or even from helping themselves, preferring to live amongst the shadows and to take instead of earn. To Reeft’s eyes these were the marginal ones, perhaps having homes yet, but preferring the company of on another. And preferring to cause trouble.

Garen was growling in response to the taunts, drawing himself into that impressive state of intimidation that he, like Reeft's own master and Obi-Wan's (and every other ridiculously tall Jedi), seemed to enjoy cultivating, yet would only enflame the situation here. Being part if not the leader of the gang of toughs, the speaker wasn't likely to let himself be intimidated, especially not by someone who was clutching his smaller friend even closer to his body in full protective mode.

Before Reeft could step in to diffuse the situation, however, someone else spoke up.

"Oh, why don't you drag your knuckles back to your little outer rim home and leave them alone," came a laughing voice from a human female with short dark hair except for a splash of blonde dipping down toward one eyebrow, who was sitting next to a tall, willowy blonde with a braid down her back even longer than any of their padawan braids. "I would have thought your mamma taught you that such outdated notions on sexuality have no place here, and that by expressing them all you've done is told the rest of us here you've never gotten any from anything other than your own hand and so don't even know what its all about, much less what gender or species you want to do it with." She then pulled on her companion's braid and drew her down into a kiss that Reeft could tell was simply meant to provoke or draw away attention from Garen and Obi-Wan despite the enthusiasm shown by both women.

A round of laughter and applause followed this display, some of it probably not so much in support of sexual equality as it was in appreciation of the titillation provided by the sight of two women kissing. Even a couple of the tough's companions were laughing, which Reeft was pretty sure wasn't a good thing for all that it gave Garen the opportunity to get moving without being further harassed. Reeft followed quickly, keeping a surreptitious eye on the whole gang, but not before acknowledging the assistance the two women had provided, and smiling his gratitude.

Catching up yet again, Reeft could sense that Garen's slow-to-rise anger was in full force, and he wasn't surprised to see a couple of travelers quickly move as Obi-Wan was led toward the seats engineered for some of the larger species like Wookies or Codru-Ji. Garen planted himself sideways, twisting so that his back was blocking most of the window before drawing Obi-Wan to him so their friend could hide his face and eyes against Garen's neck and shoulder. Reeft slid in next to Obi-Wan, taking both of the other padawans' jackets so that Garen could also then use his free hand to cup around Obi-Wan's head and further block Obi-Wan's exposed ears. It was indeed an intimate position, but had nothing remotely sexual about it.

Reeft felt a sudden tap on his shoulder and whipped around, as much from embarrassment in being so caught up in his friends instead keeping a look out as he should have, as from his discomfort that because he was not using the Force, he could be so surprised. It was the blonde with the impressive braid, with a look of concern on her face.

"Is your friend alright?" she mouthed, not knowing, of course, the full nature of Obi-Wan's distress, but obviously observant enough to have noticed Obi-Wan's reactions to sharp voices.

Reeft shrugged and shook his head slowly although he gave her another appreciative smile. "He will be," Reeft mouthed back. Certainly hoping it would be so. "We're taking him home."

She nodded and gave an answering smile of her own, then turned and gestured to the dark haired friend and yet another, younger woman with the appearance of a student to leave their seats and come toward the back. The three took seats nearby but not directly in front, staying far enough away that beginning any conversation with the Jedi would be awkward, and seemingly content not to continue with any of their own out of consideration for the Jedi's situation.

Another woman and her young daughter also moved seats, taking those directly across the aisle, both of them wearing headphones and engrossed in their data slates instead of conversation with any neighbors or each other. Then one more changed seats, a woman traveling alone, obviously one of the many ubiquitous government workers who thrived on Coruscant. She glided back to take up the row two seats behind the Jedi by spreading out paperwork, her briefcase and her padd bag to discourage someone else from insinuating themselves nearby.

Without asking or any direct encouragement, the three Jedi were effectively ringed and protected by well-meaning citizens, at least for the moment.

Not that Reeft relaxed his vigilance again. He kept his left hand against Obi-Wan's back, all too able to feel the other's reaction to every twist and turn, every stop and start the vehicle submitted them to in its journey, and he had to talk himself out of using the Force for just an instant anyway -- to push Obi-Wan into unconsciousness. But he wasn't actually sure that even with Obi-Wan's debilitation, he'd be able to override the other padawan's will, just as he wasn't sure that it wouldn't somehow make matters worse.

Instead Reeft removed his lightsaber from his jacket and tucked it beneath the stack of leathers across his lap so that it was closer at hand. With the young punks showing no inclination of departing at any of the stops and continuing with too loud and still quite rude remarks, he kept a close eye in their direction.

The government worker was the first to make her way forward to depart. She gave Reeft's shoulder a little squeeze as she passed by, and then a sad smile as he acknowledged her compassion, before weaving her way through the sudden obstacle course of long legs jutting across the floor to impede her progress. Immediately Reeft stood and took his own step forward, but the punks pulled back and let her finish passing unmolested.

At that Reeft traded a scowl with Garen before the other turned his attention back to Obi-Wan and continued his slow murmurs of whatever manufactured and totally outrageous tale Garen was making up to distract their friend with. Reeft didn't sit down again until the government worker was gone from the transport. His attention was then sought by the young mother, who, with an urging from her daughter, was reaching across the aisle and offering a sealed container of water.

While inclined to decline the offer on general principle (in having been well trained to serve others instead of serving himself), he decided instead that Obi-Wan might indeed appreciate the liquid, as their only attempt to clear their throats had been with the brackish water from the broken main. He found himself searching through the pockets of Obi-Wan's jacket, knowing the other padawan always had some little trinket or something to hand out to children when he was out of the Temple, and so traded a small, delicately cut, glass drop for the bottle. The girl looked enchanted, the mother pleased, both for the trade and that he hadn't discounted such a heartfelt offer from her daughter. And Reeft found himself almost able to relax before giving thanks to the generosity of others instead of dwelling on their intolerance.

In yet another example of how aware he was of his surroundings despite his tall-tale weaving, Garen gestured with the hand he'd been using to keep Obi-Wan from pulling away for Reeft to take a drink first, then took a healthy swallow himself as it was passed over. While they both would have given up a day of free-time to drink more, neither took more than was necessary, which left a good two-thirds for Obi-Wan.

Who barely had enough energy and wherewithal to swallow, much less protest or refuse without more equally sharing.

"How much farther?" Reeft mouthed to Garen. Reeft had horrible time and direction-senses without being able to call upon the Force. Nor was he apt to explore the club levels of Coruscant on his own, and so hadn't really known where they'd been other than being able to feel the directional pull of the hundreds of other Jedi minds in the Temple previous to Obi-Wan’s injury.

Garen twisted his head over his shoulder to get his bearings, then held up four fingers. Reeft had to figure he meant forty minutes instead of four kilometers, since direct distances had little meaning on Coruscant when vertical distances were just as valid as horizontal ones. Of course a transport like this that needed to stop at set locations would take longer than had they hired a private vehicle.

Maybe five more minutes passed before Reeft's passive sentry duty was disrupted by Garen twisting again to look outside, an expression of distress abruptly clouding the other's features. Reeft raised his brow and looked himself, able to discern only that they'd changed directions but having no idea if that was a good thing or bad. But several other riders seemed to be getting agitated themselves, and so he had to figure this was not the scheduled route. He rose in consideration of heading forward to check on what was happening, but stopped after only taking a step as the public address system engaged.

"Noble sentients," started the announcement, "we apologize for this unscheduled delay. Due to a medical emergency, we need to divert from our route and are taking you to a debarkation station where you will be given assistance in transferring to other transports. You will also be given refund passes to utilize on some future trip. We predict only a thirty or forty minute delay for some of you."

Amidst the mutterings -- both good-natured and hostile -- Reeft heard their adversaries placing the blame on the undisclosed Jedi. Reeft had to wonder if they were right, or whether this was the result of yet another situation with someone else in even worse straits than Obi-Wan. Garen lifted his chin toward the front and Reeft nodded; a forty minute delay could prove disastrous. He'd need to check out their own transfer possibilities and see if he could contact the Temple for direct assistance instead.

The transport was already dropping to a landing pad as he began making his way forward -- or attempted to. A jungle of legs were thrust out before him, one of the young toughs actually going so far as to try and kick him directly, but which Reeft sidestepped deftly.

"Leave off," he warned the puffed-up punk while signaling to Garen to stay seated with Obi-Wan, not even having to look to know that the other two were rising in his defense. "I don't want any trouble, I'm just going to find out if there is any more information on what's going on, or if there is anything I can do to help."

"Maybe they don't want your help, mudboy," came from one of the previously quiet toughs.

At the same time their leader rose to his feet and stepped directly in Reeft's way. "Maybe you've found trouble any way, gooder," he then spat.

Reeft stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "Do you really want to lose even more time by having to talk to the authorities?" he asked, keeping his tone reasonable. "I know I have better things planned for the day, and I'm sure you would rath--"

The other pushed against his shoulder. Reeft took a step backward, yet didn't contain his sigh this time. One of the first things young Jedi learned was how to ignore such petty posturing, those lessons sometimes even coming from actual experience and their fellow initiates, as Obi-Wan would be the first to acknowledge given his history with the not so lamented, former padawan and now deceased, Bruck Chun.

"Oh come now," and Reeft tried to put more tolerance in his tone. "You truly don't --"

This time he didn't break off because of what the punk was doing, but because the young daughter who had given them the water had slipped away from her mother's cautioning arms and was running up the aisle in what he feared was well meant, but ill-conceived support. This brought the mother up to her feet, and then the other three women, as well as more of the gang members. Reeft could see this becoming antagonistic, and had a moment's regret that he'd left his saber behind on his seat under their jackets; the sight of a lightsaber in hand had a way of commanding attention.

He debated calling it to him despite what such a use of the Force might do to Obi-Wan, figuring it couldn't be that much worse than an extended delay since to do so would take only seconds. But suddenly had his hands full trying to wrest the young daughter away from the gang leader before she successfully managed to kick the tough.

"You little sckrel --"

Reeft turned, letting the daughter go so that he might intercept the slap another of the gang had been aiming her way. He then needed duck under a punch, and in mere seconds the confrontation exploded into a physical altercation. The mother blocked yet another strike against her daughter before following it up with a well executed jab into the attacker's gut that had him doubling over and that bespoke of her having some form of security or military training. Then the other women waded in, as did several more passengers -- all against the belligerent punks.

For an instant Reeft lost sight of the gang leader as he was bowled over by someone else. A cry bellowed from somewhere up above him, then the sound of a much stronger strike against flesh between two fighters, cluing Reeft into the fact that Garen had joined in the fray. Reeft found himself looking around for Obi-Wan, quickly finding the other padawan trying to direct the daughter behind him and away from the danger but her unwilling, as well as seemingly fascinated by the sight of Obi-Wan's damaged eyes instead of being repulsed.

Nor did she seemed scared about the escalating battle.

A glancing blow across his cheek redirected Reeft's attention back to his own difficulties. He rolled away from his opponent, but his curiosity had slowed him in gaining his feet, then cost him even more -- perhaps too much more. Sudden agony stole his breath and, despite his training, he couldn't stop the instant rush of fear as from the corner of his eye, he watched a vibro-blade being withdrawn from his side.

It hurt, yet what pained him even more was realizing that his crumpling wasn't causing the fighters to step back in shock, that no one else had really even noticed that a weapon had been drawn and used. No, someone had. For abruptly the gang leader was flung back away from the scuffle in what could only have been the Force. Reeft forced himself to move his head Garen's direction, opening his mouth to stop his friend from causing Obi-Wan's collapse too. Blood drowned his words and throat, however, and in any case Reeft’s attempt proved worthless; it hadn't been Garen who'd noted and reacted so precipitously to his stabbing.

Guilt overrode Reeft's pain and increased his tears from the effort he needed to call upon to twist his head back toward Obi-Wan. His only solace was that Obi-Wan's audacious action had created the reaction his own trouble hadn't -- for a moment all participants in the brawl froze.

Reeft had little confidence this pause in the fighting would stand, however. Especially as Obi-Wan's effort on Reeft's behalf was now obviously a one-time thing, the other padawan's knees buckling despite the daughter's attempt to keep Obi-Wan upright.

That sight burned into the back of Reeft's eyelids as they involuntarily closed and he felt himself being turned to his side. He was unable to keep another flood of tears from escaping, or a low-throated cry despite the gentleness of Garen's touch. When he began to feel a warmth that could only be Force energy being applied directly to his wound, he cried out again and tried to pull away, only to be stopped not only by the fingers, but by a voice so unexpected that Reeft's eyes flew back open.

"Lie still, Padawan."

Not Garen, not even one of the women who'd championed them since their arrival. Somehow it was his own master who was kneeling behind him and, even more gently than her work to stop his bleeding, she was insinuating her presence into Reeft's mind, coaxing him to thin his shields and encouraging him to reach out to the Force to surrender his pain and panic.

"It's okay my valiant one," the Trianii soothed with her feline rasp. "Qui-Gon has already taken Obi-Wan to the medical transport and they are awaiting my ministrations to get you stable enough to be moved," she answered his unspoken concerns.

Reeft tried to blink away his tears and his confusion for now seeing that no one else stood or sat within his narrowed range of view, not Obi-Wan, not the daughter or her mother, any of the gang-bangers or even any of the other passengers. But --

"Silly, you passed into unconsciousness," she laughed in her lisped Basic. That bright and comforting sound helped Reeft as much as her shared energy and his own reaquataince with the Force. Surely she wouldn't be laughing if he was dying.

If Obi-Wan or Garen were. Or had.

But still he had to ask. "The others, Master? And the civilians?" For they too had risked their lives for no other reason that Reeft could think of other than they followed the Light no less faithfully than the Jedi.

"A few bumps and bruises amongst them -- any of them. The worst even the aggressors suffered was a broken wrist and a few of his fingers -- the one who attacked you."

Reeft wasn't surprised, except perhaps that Obi-Wan hadn't done more damage, especially with as erratic as his control would have had to have been. "And Obi-Wan?"

A furred hand brushed against Reeft's cheek, one of the things his most loved about his master -- the softness of her fur and the silkiness of the pads so at odds to his own leathery skin. "He didn't look good," she said with the honesty that had always existed between them. "But he seemed to be coming around with Qui-Gon's arrival and I'm sure his master will be able to help him."

Reeft didn't know whether to be happy or sad to hear this, and so let his own problems again take the forefront of his thoughts. Another soft touch and gentle infusion of energy came from his master before she shifted her hand underneath Reeft's neck and redirected the one that had been steadily pressing against the wound on his lower back to grip him just below his elbow.

"Ready to try and sit up, Padawan?"

Reeft sent a wave of affirmation across the training bond and braced himself for what was to come.

"I suppose their lover's bond is what led to us getting here in time," she was continuing after a shared grunt in getting Reeft started upright; although significantly taller than Reeft, being Trianii, her weight totaled less than half of his own.

Because even with the Force she would have had difficulty in completely supporting his weight, at least through the confining access through the transport, Reeft further steeled himself to rise the rest of the way on his own. Only to find his master was not the only one who had been behind him. A third hand was suddenly gripping Reeft's other elbow. Garen then lifted him to his feet and now the Dressellian could see Garen's master was also nearby.

With help from all three of them, Reeft made his way to the front of the transport and out to the landing pad, his face flaming a deep charcoal when as the door opened, they were greeted with a round of applause and cheers. It looked as if at least a third of the passengers had foregone their own business to assure themselves of Reeft's well-being, the three women and the mother and daughter waiting in the very front.

"And you thought they were there just out of concern for Obi-Wan?" Garen laughed in his ear, then laughed harder when Reeft blushed yet again to near the color of the tarmac now beneath their feet. Reeft never got the girl -- especially the human ones -- despite his care and attention to his appearance. In truth, Garen didn't often either if Obi-Wan was with them, despite the fact that Obi-Wan did prefer men. Well, one man. Now and for forever, Reeft suspected.

He just hoped forever would be a long, long time to come.

********

Although Qui-Gon had gathered up Obi-Wan's robe before departure, that wasn't the one Obi-Wan was now wrapped up and hidden within as he rested against Qui-Gon. No, Mace Windu was currently holding Obi-Wan's robe, along with the padawan's jacket and the coats belonging to the other two padawans now in the diagnostic bay of the medical vehicle. Even more disconcerting however, was the fact that Mace also held all three of the padawans' lightsabers.

And the fact that he wasn't confident that he'd be returning two of them.

Ever since becoming a member of the Jedi High Council, Mace had been awaken more times that he could keep track of with some sort of emergency. As one of the senior councilors for the Order, Mace was the one usually commed first, especially when the emergency involved members of the Galactic Senate. Siri Tachi’s involvement, however, had led to Adi Gallia being informed before him, however, only for the both of them to find Qui-Gon not only already prepping to leave, but fully involved in what was going one because of his unprecedented link with his own padawan.

Qui-Gon had already asked Mace’s assistant, Jamevelyn D'Kallette, to take the piloting duties, leaving Mace to contact Reeft and Garen’s masters, along with one of the Master Healers before the six of them left to speed toward the club. Adi had gathered a cadre of other masters, including Bant’s to meet their padawans and the injured at the medical facility exclusive to the politicians and Senators who made Coruscant their home.

From Qui-Gon's on-going edginess Mace figured that Obi-Wan had subsequently become injured, yet had only the supposition of seriousness given by how fiercely Obi-Wan seemed to be shielding his condition from his Master, and the franticness in which Qui-Gon had then redirected their route away from the club. The dispatch eventually passed onto them by the transport company had given little more information, only where the padawans were, and where they were heading.

So to board after intercepting the vehicle and find Padawan Muln first, his expression and aura dark with anger, his light saber in hand and held against nine civilians --

To find two more civilians down on the floor of the transport with their own injuries --

To find Reeft surrounded by a pool of blood and three women frantically trying to stem its flow from a wound that had to have pierced a kidney if not also a bowel --

And to finally find Obi-Wan bowed over his own knees, shaking from the easily sensed waves of agony tearing at his mind, seemingly oblivious to the little girl and the one who was likely her mother kneeling to either side, oblivious to everything --

Swift as an avenging angel out of the folklore of Mace's birth tribe, Qui-Gon had swept past the other two padawans and fell to his knees, pulling Obi-Wan up into his arms. Although each master moved immediately to assist their own, Mace had had a moment's wonder if Qui-Gon had even seen the state of the other two padawans, but then he’d caught sight of the red-stained tears Obi-Wan had lifted and knew instantly the reasons for Qui-Gon's preoccupation and haste.

Psychic shock; Obi-Wan's third such incident in less than three years.

By Qui-Gon's quick actions and even quicker removal of Obi-Wan from the transport, Mace’s fellow master had not only safeguarded his own padawan but also the other two, who could now be assisted in whatever fashion necessary by their own masters and the Force.

Mace had moved to Master Riken's and Padawan Garen's side even as Master Glo'ena and Healer Vance moved to her padawan. From Garen he needed to hear first hand the reasons a Jedi was threatening civilians. Additional witnesses were more than willing to brief him also, and even with the disparity of stories, soon he had only commended Garen and his master for the padawan's handling of the situation, and praised the lad directly for not giving into his heightened emotions.

Mace had next moved toward the fallen padawan, but not only was his presence dismissed, so too was the healer's, as Glo'ena invoked a master's privilege to care for her own padawan. And so Mace had had little to do but see to the final evacuation of the rest of the passengers, insisting that even those who'd apparently actively sided with the three padawans vacate the shuttle so the Jedi could finish dealing with the immediate situation.

He had little doubt that the Temple would be receiving visitors over the next few days, not just the remarkable women and young girl, but also others who would want to make sure their own version of the events were individually recorded while also hoping to see or at least find out the status of those injured. It wouldn't be the first time the public's response to such Jedi vulnerability emboldened or frightened them out of their complacency.

Nor, Mace feared, was this the last such an attack against Jedi from folks otherwise uninvolved in the type of troubles Jedi generally found themselves in opposition to. The Republic was vast and the Jedi few in comparison; with misunderstandings, rumors and out-in-out lies beginning to take tighter hold in the public's consciousness instead of the truth and reality.

Feared too much, or not feared enough, the Jedi mystic was wearing thin.

As was the healer's patience currently with Qui-Gon -- or more likely the other way around -- Mace abruptly discovered in returning his attention to his surroundings instead of dwelling within his troubled remembrances. He looked up to see Healer Vance with a neural white noise regenerator in hand, trying to pull Obi-Wan's hood back, and Qui-Gon resisting. Both masters were trying to stay quiet for Obi-Wan's sake, and were, of course, refraining from using the Force -- on each other, Mace had a giddy moment of fear in thinking. Neither were accomplishing much more than getting frustrated, however.

Mace rubbed restlessly at what he suspected to be a sympathetic headache to Obi-Wan’s, and could only be thankful that if this had to happen, it had happened to Obi-Wan instead of Qui-Gon. Not only was his own mental connection much stronger with the master than the padawan and so his pain would be more than just a shadow from empathy, but as skillful in the Force as Obi-Wan was -- was becoming -- Mace was pretty sure he'd have two cases of psychic shock to be dealing with instead of one had Qui-Gon been the one initially stricken. Indeed, he suspected only Qui-Gon's greater years and resultant experience had allowed him to keep from being caught up in sharing Obi-Wan's pain, given how deep the two of them were now mentally bonded.

But even in the throes of shock and burrowed about as deep within Qui-Gon's embrace as he could be, Obi-Wan was obviously not able to keep from feeling Qui-Gon's rising irritation; something Qui-Gon had yet to notice himself as he continued to fight with the object of his irritation.

Mace rose to his feet to pull the two masters apart, with a gesture for the healer to return to the medical bay, or go somewhere -- anywhere else, then raising his hand in warning when the other balked. Yes, no doubt the conflict between the two was as much Qui-Gon's fault as the other master's, but right now fault didn't matter and could be sorted out later.

Unfortunately Vance was as graceless in his acquiescence as he'd been in trying to command Qui-Gon to give Obi-Wan over to him. Mace sighed, knowing he'd be dealing with a belligerent healer if not a formal complaint against Qui-Gon -- and possibly himself -- before the day ended, and so followed the indignant healer out of the waiting area.

"Just how much have you bothered to study that pair's history?" he rounded on Vance after pulling him into the cockpit upon deciding that Reeft, Garen and their masters didn't deserve to have to listen to what was coming. Mace knew he shouldn't be displaying such a quarrel in front of Jame either, but he knew her discretion was on par with any Jedi's, and as a friend of both Qui-Gon and especially Obi-Wan, she perhaps had a right to be a witness, if not also have a say.

"I read that they have the highest number of missions resulting in time spent in our care out of the entire Order, especially over the last several years.” Vance’s accent was even more formal than Obi-Wan’s, giving Mace to think that the healer had probably never been off Coruscant.

“In the boy's case, I would almost assume criminal neglect or willful abuse were Master Jinn other than a fellow Jedi and the small detail that the two are … together," the healer then added with an audible sniff that immediately had Mace grinding his teeth. "There are also notations from nearly every healer they've had, about how difficult either man is when the other is a patient, a claim Master Jinn confirmed within the first seconds of my arrival to see to his padawan."

"Is that all?"

Vance seemed taken aback by the flatness of Mace's tone, but the healer still drew himself upright to show that he stood by his opinion even in the face of a Councilor's displeasure. Until he then undermined it all by expressing his answer as a question.

"I believe that is quite enough?"

"Actually, I am afraid it isn't, Healer Vance," Mace said a bit more harshly than was probably prudent. "Surely you know by now that any facts taken out of context can be used to support a presupposed conclusion?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Said with a coldness that would do fellow Councilor and former King, Oppo Rancisis, proud, Vance’s response also served to check Mace's emotional retort just as Rancisis' would have. He swallowed and took a deep breath, then another, knowing he was hardly impartial himself in his opinion regarding those two.

He just had a completely opposite opinion.

"Healer Vance, had you more time to review their history, you might have been able to see that the two of them also have completed more missions than any current team based out of Coruscant," he started again in a much milder tone. "Actually, more than any field team we currently have anywhere and, completed them with the highest success rate, I must add, although to their detriment, I fear the Council sees too much of the latter and so encourages the former. Now, personally, I don't care for statistics when talking about people – especially about our people – and so I cannot tell you if their percentages of injuries per missions are correspondingly higher than other teams." He gestured for the Healer to take the navigator's seat and propped his hip against the co-pilot's chair.

Jame was doing her best to stay busy with her controls and shaving off every second possible in returning to the Temple; something that might have alarmed Mace more had he actually be looking at how she was flying instead of concentrating on the Jedi before him.

"Perhaps if you had spent less time being insulted by the relationship between them, you would have also had time to note that they have a telepathic bond -- a very deep telepathic bond, which I suppose could account for the relationship, just as their relationship could account for the closeness of their bond." He chose not to mention the bond was actually one of Fusion, something beyond even the intertwining of a life or soul bond. Few even on the Council truly understood Fusion, or what it would ultimately mean for the two. Fusion was so uncommon as to be practically unknown, with the pairing of Nomi Sunrider and her mate, Andur being the only publicly acknowledged predecessor. And those two had died thousands of years ago.

Mace didn't want to think about what might happen should death come early to one of the Jinn-Kenobi pairing as it had for the Sunriders.

Vance frowned. "So the white noise generator would have incapacitated them both. And furthered the boy's condition instead of aiding it."

Mace heard and ignored yet again Jame's snort at Vance's referring to Obi-Wan as a boy instead of by name, just as he bit back his own reaction to the petty slight. Abruptly something else came to mind, however, and he cocked his head toward the other master. "Healer Vance, have you ever taken a padawan yourself?"

"I am afraid my duties and my research have not lent themselves to time to find a suitable candidate to apprentice."

Mace almost smiled. "Perhaps you should reevaluate that and see if you can find the time."

"Is that an order, Councilor Windu?"

This time he did smile. "Not at all, Healer Vance. Just a suggestion. But I do have to wonder if your focus on research has honed your tendency to judge things by statistics and basic generalities instead of seeing the individual components involved. I’d also have to guess that you’re more a following of the Unified side of the Force, than the Living,” he offered with an even more open expression.

“If you were to talk to other Jedi before they become your patients, I expect you'd discover that most field teams have difficulty with any healer's priorities that discount the importance of their partnership,” Mace continued. “And perhaps you'd also discover that the incidences of conflicts with patients decrease if the attending healer has a padawan of their own. Indeed, in your eagerness to make your contribution to your calling, I have to wonder if you might have forgotten your own relationship with your master."

The other stood up immediately, but instead of being insulted and leaving, as Mace feared for an instant, the other simply moved in front of him then dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

"Forgive me Master, and thank you for your wisdom. I will consider what you have said. And strive to learn more about my patients than their charts."

More than a little embarrassed by how abruptly penitent Vance had become, Mace cleared his throat. "Yes, well, we all have certain blind spots, even Councilors," and he turned so that he couldn't see Jame's wide grin from the corner of his eye. "Surely the only failed Jedi is the one who fails to learn from that blindness."

The healer rose with an expression of earnest resolution on his thin face. "Have you any suggestions as to how I can help Master Jinn and the -- and Padawan Kenobi?"

Fortunately for Mace, the tower containing the misnomered Healers Hall as it took up almost twenty levels of the Jedi Temple, was now visible through the front viewport, and growing larger with every hesitation and breath. "We're here," he said without being able to completely contain a small sigh of relief. "At this point I imagine the greatest assistance from you would be running interference for Jinn and Kenobi with your peers. As you now understand, in this instance the longer they are bothered, even by those like you only wishing to aid, the longer their trouble will linger. If you could distract the emergency personnel and direct them to young Reeft's presence instead --"

"As you say, Master Windu. It will be done."

"From pompous to fawning in less than five minutes. I don't know how you do it, Mace," Jame laughed as she ran through the final shutdown procedures and once the healer was well away from the cockpit.

"Never you mind that right now, girl. We have our own duties to attend to."

"Yeah, well, if Obi starts throwing up again, this time you get to take out the bucket."

Light words, which, surprisingly, brought more good memories than bad from the mission where Jamevlyn D'Kalette had first met Obi-Wan Kenobi. The same mission where Qui-Gon's padawan had first been stricken by psychic shock, due in fact by Mace's own actions to keep them all alive. Somehow, being experienced enough in this to be joking didn't exactly relieve Mace's own concerns, yet he wasn't about to reprimand his aide for her own way of coping. The best way for them both to release their current fears would be by assisting Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan in whatever capacity that involved.

Even if that meant carrying and rinsing out contaminated waste receptacles.

*******

Footsteps approached with too heavy a tread to belong to Master Windu or Jame, and Obi-Wan found himself tensing again as the steps slowed. But even before Qui-Gon could growl yet again and scare someone away, the steps started up and departed, the well-meaning if clueless healer thankfully heading off to see to his other patients.

When Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon relax, he did so himself and leaned a little more into his master although they were already close enough that he could almost crawl underneath Qui-Gon's skin instead of where he hid underneath his master's robe. The only thing he wanted to hear -- could stand to hear right now -- was Qui-Gon's heartbeat directly beneath his ear, and the low noises of reassurance and love that were offered each time something outside the circle of protection that he was surrounded within triggered a new spasm or spike of pain.

At least now he only felt like clawing his eyes out and puncturing his eardrums instead of begging for the total lobotomy or beheading he'd preferred earlier. Qui-Gon's arrival on the transport had triggered his first easing of pain, and now that they were touching, Obi-Wan actually had hope that it wasn't ultimately going to kill him.

Another wave of comfort and affection flowed into him even as he knew Qui-Gon was using the Force no more than any of the other Jedi out of consideration for his debilitation. This was something relatively new between them, something almost primal and something he -- they -- were beginning to experience in spite of a lack of Force or too much distance between them for their Force bond to be effective.

A few months ago a mission's consequences had needed them to separate, with him returning to Coruscant while Qui-Gon flew from one Outer Rim planet to another. Upon landing there, Qui-Gon had become critically injured and, in part due to the fact that they had parted from one another quite angry, Qui-Gon had allowed despair to overtake him to the point of giving up. While Obi-Wan still wasn't sure if simply knowing he'd needed to forego completing the journey to Coruscant so he could get to Qui-Gon in a matter of long hours instead of long days, or if it had been this previously undiscovered ability to connect mentally with one another despite the distances still involved which had enabled him to lend Qui-Gon strength or hope -- for whatever reason, thank the Force, Qui-Gon had survived long enough that Obi-Wan had reached him in time to successfully begin to treat his master's injuries.

Thinking of that moment, however, remembering again the horror not only of Qui-Gon's injuries but also the utter wretchedness he'd felt as they'd argued -- and afterward as they'd tried to figure out how they even could disagree so strongly given the empathy that was now always between them, sent Obi-Wan's thoughts on another tangent. Several years ago he'd had Master Jolenine teaching one of his philosophy classes. That master had been nearly as in tune to the Unifying Force as Qui-Gon was connected to the Living, and she had theorized that the Will of the Force was absolute, that every significant occurrence was connected to another on a cosmic scale. Something Obi-Wan, in abstract, more or less believed himself from having his own strong connection to the unifying aspect of the Force.

But the thought of what it was about his own destiny might be that needed him to experience that disagreement -- or yet again another bout of psychic shock …

Yes, the almost geometrically growth in his mental and Force abilities was heartening in that it was helping him become a more equal partner to Qui-Gon, but frankly he'd have rather picked up the skills the more natural way, through time instead of accelerated experience.

"So would I," he felt more than heard whispered from Qui-Gon.

Before Obi-Wan could gather up enough energy to try and reply, they felt the ship begin to slow and descend. In preparation for the coming jolt, he burrowed deeper within Qui-Gon's embrace and comfort, but the transport kissed the tarmac with a touch so deft that it could only belong to Jame or Garen, the latter of whom he knew was in the medical treatment bay with Reeft.

Which meant he would only have the invasive hands and minds of the emergency personnel to endure until Qui-Gon could get him away instead of another incident with Healer Vance. Yet even in that, the two of them were pleasantly surprised upon hearing the Master Healer directing his associates toward Reeft and the other Jedi, and not mentioning Obi-Wan at all.

Unsure of the reason behind the other's change of heart but more than happy to take advantage of it, Obi-Wan pulled out of Qui-Gon's embrace and began to struggle awkwardly to his feet. For a moment he just stood there, wavering a little as he tried to find his equilibrium. He knew he must look a sight, hidden with the folds of Qui-Gon's robe like a child for all that he had reached his full growth a couple of years ago. But the too long sleeves hid his trembling hands as the hood did his damaged eyes. And with Qui-Gon's assistance, he'd be able to maneuver through the corridors regardless --

Except he wasn't going to be allowed to do so. Or to so worry.

Before he could find Qui-Gon's arm to steady himself, he was swept up into them as if he was still that child initiate. And caught between a padawan's embarrassment and a lover's delight. However, it was the pain and the resultant realization that he'd be unlikely able to walk off the ship, much less all the way to his quarters, that had him acquiescing with no further protest than an initial stiffening.

"I think your pride will survive," Qui-Gon breathed softly against his ear as Obi-Wan automatically turned his head in again against his master's chest. He wasn't sure if Qui-Gon could see beneath the drape of the hood, the hint of a smile this drew, and so Obi-Wan reached up to tucked his hand just under the fold of his master's outer tunic that he might also convey his appreciation with his touch as well as the feelings welling up within his heart and soul.

"But no matter, this is to cement my own reputation as a terribly romantic and caring lover, instead of someone so totally bewitched by the houri that accepted him as has been going around since our return from T'ias,” Qui-Gon then continued.

That surprised a muffled laugh out of Obi-Wan, though he needed swallow a moan from the tremors and ache that laughing exacerbated. Instantly Qui-Gon was bending over, nuzzling his cheek against the side of Obi-Wan's muffled cheek. "Sorry," was mouthed, but Obi-Wan knew Qui-Gon was only apologizing for the reaction he'd provoked, not for the loss of his reputation as a stoic, no-nonsense Jedi master seduced by his much younger lover.

But it turned out that neither of them needed to worry about their reputations at least in this instance. With Master Windu and Jame out ahead as Obi-Wan was carried to their quarters, they ran across no one despite traversing through some of the normally busiest corridors of the Temple. So quick and painless was it, that the councilor was overriding the lock and preceding them into their home before Obi-Wan had even figured out they'd arrived.

Now surrounded by a darkness only livened by a faint crack of sunlight peeking through the curtained transparasteel that was an entire wall of their living room, Obi-Wan could carefully pushed the hood away so that he might be able to look up his lover, wanting -- needing -- to soak up not so much the other's inward and outwardly expressed concern, but the utter pleasure and sheer comfort Qui-Gon's mien had inspired within him from their first days together as master and padawan. He had always thought his master uncommonly handsome, even when he'd not felt any desire for him, perhaps not so much the physical looks although those were more than pleasing enough, but from the commanding and confident manner in which Qui-Gon had always conducted himself. Qui-Gon Jinn had been Obi-Wan's ideal of what a Jedi Master should look like, even before he’d come to also know his master was his ideal of what a Jedi master should be like.

"Let me get the bed turned down for you," Jame began but then hesitated, although only for a couple of seconds before moving past them and opening up the doors to what had previously been Qui-Gon's bedroom alone.

With a faint blush, Obi-Wan realized that the last time she'd been here with a thought to what lay beyond the common rooms, had been before he and Qui-Gon had become lovers. Had been, in fact, while he and she had been lovers; the two of them back then had only rarely retreated to the smaller bedroom that was now only a workroom and study, preferring instead the cockpit of whatever flying craft they could get access to for their assignations.

Such thoughts and his growing embarrassment got a rumble of amusement from Qui-Gon.

"She's a remarkably smart woman."

And Obi-Wan wasn't exactly sure if Qui-Gon's was praising Jame's realization that he was now sharing Qui-Gon's life as well as his bed, or if his master was making some sort of teasing comment about his and Jame's significantly changed relationship. It hadn't taken any of them long to figure out he and Jame made better friends than committed lovers -- or even the occasional sex partner.

As Qui-Gon followed her, again Obi-Wan had no need to worry about hiding his eyes; the only light in here came from beyond another door leading into the bathing room. From which Master Windu then came out of, holding some of the candles he and Qui-Gon both had a guilty pleasure of enjoying almost as much as the fragrant oils they also indulged in using. Immediately Jame took up several of them from the councilor's hands and the two of them began placing the candles into nooks from which most of the glow could be even further defused.

"How did I get so lucky to have the three of you in my life," he whispered to Qui-Gon, quite overwhelmed by the care and love being shown him.

"Many cultures measure a man's worth by the caliber of his friends, my own," Qui-Gon breathed against his lips before then kissing them gently. "You deserve all that we can offer."

Obi-Wan blushed under such tender regard, the flush then extending throughout his body as he pushed back up into the lips before they could be drawn away. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself forever within their warmth, but had little to offer more than a passive involvement. The energy he was drawing up now was Qui-Gon's, and he'd already been shamelessly drawing upon that strength for too long.

"The only reason I don't carry you forever is because you don't need me to," was then breathed against his temple as they parted.

Despite such a pronouncement, Qui-Gon crossed the rest of the steps toward the bed still cradling Obi-Wan to him, before lowering Obi-Wan carefully down then easing off the robe. Master Windu and Jame then moved next to them to assist, each starting by loosening and drawing off Obi-Wan's boots while he was kept upright and leaning against Qui-Gon's chest. The feel of Qui-Gon's arms more than made up for the loss of his master's robe, especially as they reached around him and began unbuttoning the cuffs and front of the silk shirt that was plastered against Obi-Wan's now chilling body.

"Jame, could you get me a warmed washcloth?" Qui-Gon quickly asked in only a slightly louder voice than he'd been using just for Obi-Wan.

She nodded and disappeared beyond their presence, this time with no hesitation at all. Outside of this particular room and the changes to what had been Obi-Wan's, she was quite familiar with where things were stored. Certainly more so than Master Windu who, although once Qui-Gon's lover and still one of his master's closest friends, Obi-Wan well knew no longer had the time to spend here as he had those twenty years and two sets of living quarters ago, long before Obi-Wan had arrived in Qui-Gon's life, and before Master Windu had become a member of the High Council.

"How in the Force did you get these pants on, Obi-Wan?" Mace asked suddenly, though in a voice just as quiet as Qui-Gon's. After a single tug on the leg hems, the councilor stopped and took a half step back when all his effort had accomplished was to try and slide Obi-Wan out of Qui-Gon's arms.

"I think he has to use the Force," Qui-Gon snorted, although Obi-Wan was well aware that his master no longer minded the tightness of them since he knew Obi-Wan wasn't wearing the leather to attract anyone else's attention.

"Actually, it's a Hoth-field of talc," Jame giggled as she rejoined them at the bed. "They chaff otherwise, even if he could wriggle them on otherwise." She then laughed outright at Obi-Wan's muttered 'thanks, a lot' as he leaned further back against Qui-Gon that he might twist his head and stick his tongue out at her.

A quick wink at Obi-Wan, then, "Is there anything else I can do to help, Master Jinn?" She'd brought with her not only the requested cloth, but also a twin to it, along with a small bowl that had steam rising from it, and a couple of large towels thrown over her shoulder.

"Tea," Obi-Wan requested as Qui-Gon finished removing his shirt and laid him back. "The blackthorn, please."

"You should be concerned only with your own recovery," came the mild chastisement as Qui-Gon gave him a fond, yet slightly exasperated smile. To which Obi-Wan simply let his lips quirk up; blackthorn tea was one of Qui-Gon's favorites, especially when his master was feeling stressed.

"Even when I'm one with the Force, I'll not stop looking out for you," Obi-Wan offered up hoarsely in his own defense when Qui-Gon kept looking at him.

"And some Wallin spice, please, " he added, his words ending in a sigh as Qui-Gon finally relaxed and placed the first damp cloth over Obi-Wan's eyes.

This mild exchange of stubbornness had Master Windu chuckling as he moved around the end of bed, apparently deciding to leave removing Obi-Wan's pants to Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan heard a snap of cloth then felt the fringed edges of the quilt Tahl had crafted for the pair as a bonding gift brush against him, only to then feel it drawn away. Before expressing his confusion, there was a different material being draped over him. Qui-Gon's robe again, discernable by its feel, but even more by the sense and scents of his master.

He sighed again in a feeling of pleasure that went beyond touch or comfort. Immediately he drew one of the folds between the fingers of the hand that Qui-Gon was not drawing out from under the rich, nubby material. A whisper of water rippling, then the second damp cloth was placed up near his shoulder and drawn slowly up and down his arm before being wrapped around each finger individually, cleaning away the sweat and dust. And tension.

Even more than the wonder of feeling clean, Obi-Wan appreciated the distraction that such care was offering. He gratefully submerged himself into a moment that was only touches, though he had enough presence of mind to recognize Master Windu's added brush of fingers across his forehead. Which he should acknowledge, along with the return of Jame with what smelled not only like the tea, but possibly fruit and some sort of bread. While the thought of eating only served to accentuate his nausea, at least their scents didn't bother him. And, he suspected, they were more for Qui-Gon anyway, and would be needed, given how much energy Qui-Gon had expended on his behalf even before they'd met up in the transport.

"We'll go check on Reeft and Garen."

Master Windu's words demanded a response even more than his and Jame's actions, yet Obi-Wan could barely rise above the lassitude and pain that was swiftly becoming his only awareness outside of Qui-Gon.

"Can you please also find out about Bant and Siri?" he managed. He should also be asking about the civilians, should actually be giving his debrief since he had a councilor present and Senators had been involved. But Qui-Gon had returned his attentions to Obi-Wan's arm and hand, this time using fingers and palms instead of water and the soft wash cloth.

"I'll leave a message on your commset," Mace promised with another soft touch across his forehead -- and a kiss that had to have come from Jame -- before two sets of footsteps began receding. "And I'll take care of clearing your schedules and finding substitutes to take your classes."

With Qui-Gon now beginning a serious massage of his fingers and palm, all thoughts of Qui-Gon's ethics classes for fifth and eighth year padawans, or Obi-Wan's own turn at teaching the fitness classes with the initiates disappeared. He wasn't really even too concerned with how the Chancellor would manage without his master's testimony in a senate subcommittee hearing scheduled for tomorrow, though he knew he probably should be. He and Qui-Gon had spent their entire lives in service to the Chancellor and his predecessor, including foiling more than once assassination attempt on Valorum's life. Surely they deserved a couple of days for themselves?

"All that and more," Qui-Gon promised. He carefully set Obi-Wan's arm back under the robe and reached across Obi-Wan's body for the other one.

With both of them rather adept at this type of work because Tahl suffered from migraines ever since the mission that had caused her blindness -- the same mission that had nearly driven Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon apart forever, almost before they'd even become master and padawan, Obi-Wan had a pretty good idea of what Qui-Gon would be doing, and nearly melted at the thought of such thorough attention being given to him. Yet he was surprised to feel the laces of his pants being loosened, then the tight material being slid down his legs, especially when Qui-Gon's hands were still quite involved with Obi-Wan's second arm.

"Gratuitous Force use, Master?" he murmured.

"Would you prefer I stop this?" was the response and Obi-Wan had to bite his lip to keep from shaking his head no as he felt Qui-Gon's own bared body sliding in next to his own. In spite of their mutual state of undress now, there was little sexual in what Qui-Gon was doing, in what was being offered. Obi-Wan had a long way to go before the pain would recede enough that he might find pleasure in his own or Qui-Gon's body. But he was a sensualist, lived on the outer skin of his body and Qui-Gon could always distract him by simply touching even when the intent was not sexual.

His legs and feet were taken care of next, the sweep of Qui-Gon's robe bunched up now about Obi-Wan's groin and that caused a mild stirring despite Obi-Wan's exhaustion and distractions. But that tension, pleasant though it could be, was swept away, first by the gentle washing that started at his heels, then the firm fingers that knew every muscle and bit of scar tissue, that had shaped and molded him as a Jedi well before exploring him as a lover.

Shaking, purring, Obi-Wan even thought he might be crying again as Qui-Gon now carefully rolled him onto his stomach and began working out the tensions and aches across his shoulders and back. Although his headache flared in just that brief movement, once again he was taken away from his misery by the skill of his master and oh so generous lover. Sleep was finally becoming a possibility; something to look forward to instead of avoiding, as he knew the migraine would have followed him even into his dreams. And when Qui-Gon finally began ministrations to his neck, thumbing away the pounding and constrictions, then moving to run the blunt tips of his fingers behind his ears and begin a gentle scratching manipulation of his scalp, Obi-Wan was finally able to let completely go.

Love -- his for Qui-Gon, Qui-Gon's for him -- engulfed any rational part left in his mind and shepherded him into blessed darkness.

*******

Although Qui-Gon would quite happily spend the rest of his life watching Obi-Wan sleep, he had a number of things that needed his care, although at this point he'd need to handle all of them from within their quarters and find someone to assist him with any that might not be so managed. After insuring himself that the traces of pain were finally smoothing out from Obi-Wan's face, he deepened his lover's sleep with the Force and rolled Obi-Wan out of his arms so that he could lift himself out of the bed without disturbing Obi-Wan. He grabbed up a lounging robe, then also the tray that Jame had prepared for them but that neither of them had ended up partaking from before Obi-Wan had fallen asleep.

Qui-Gon drank the tea now and set the tray down near his desk. Although no messages were currently on his comm unit, no doubt Mace would be calling soon, as would Obi-Wan's friends once the information of what had happened made its way through the padawan and knight ranks. And he really should contact Valorum directly. If he worked now while Obi-Wan was sleeping, he should be able to draft an affidavit that could be accepted in his place, at least initially in the first days of the hearing.

Of course, even if it wasn't acceptable, the Senate – and Valorum -- would just have to be disappointed. He was not about to leave Obi-Wan until he was sure his padawan was fully recovered; previous such occurrences had altered the bond's stability and he wasn't about to revisit their first days on Coruscant following the mission on T'ias where they'd actually harmed one another by separating in their ignorance. As this was the third time for them in dealing with psychic shock, Qui-Gon expected the bond would stabilize quickly, but as far as he was concerned, that stability was something only the two of them could determine, not the healers, the Council, or especially the Senate.

Seeing to a more substantial breakfast than tea and a couple of pieces of fruit, Qui-Gon wandered through their quarters, extinguishing some of the candles, but also simply moving a few of the longer lasting ones into the bathing room. Even out from under the influence of the migraine, Obi-Wan's eyes would be sensitive to bright lights for hours, possibly even for more than a day. Nor was there any guarantee that the migraine would fade completely upon Obi-Wan's awakening.

Seeing to a few more things to make Obi-Wan's ordeal as manageable as he could, Qui-Gon finally returned to his desk. Unfortunately, ordering his thoughts on security ramifications for imposing sanctions against the Trade Federation took much longer than it should have, as his mind kept straying to the bond to check on Obi-Wan. Instead of dwelling on the possible threats the Neimodians could pose, he wondered whether there was indeed a pattern to Obi-Wan's incidents of psychic shock, but only found anger and regret that with each instance the effects during the incident seemed to be worsening instead of lessening as the healers had first supposed.

The first shock had been triggered because Mace had forced a link with Obi-Wan so that the two of them could repulse the hand-held rockets that had been launched at the councilor's transport. At the time it had been assumed the damage had been more because their two minds were not particularly compatible than something more portentous, and after a few heaves and a couple of hours of sleep, Obi-Wan had recovered with minimal difficulties.

Although there had been a marked jump in Obi-Wan's ability to access and manipulate the Force after this, again it was assumed to be because of Mace's involvement. There had even been some discussion with intentionally creating temporary connections between senior padawans and masters other than their own, in stressful, albeit controlled simulations to see if similar results could be recreated. But that plan had fallen by the wayside when the next two padawans succumbed to their own bouts of psychic shock from similar circumstances and, while thankfully they'd recovered with no detriments, neither had there been a measurable positive change in their Force abilities.

Obi-Wan's second incident had been more dangerous as well as more difficult. And now that Qui-Gon thought about it, he had to wonder if the first had in fact led to the second, both the good and the bad of it. Had Obi-Wan not experienced such a growth in his abilities, it was unlikely he and Obi-Wan could have remained directly linked with one another and within the Force for over forty-eight hours which had almost single-handedly enabled their escape from the T’iasian troops that had been hunting them. The need to separate after such closeness had nearly pushed Qui-Gon to the dark even as it had led to Obi-Wan second bout of psychic shock. And this one had had mental as well as physical ramifications. But even then Obi-Wan had been able to continue the mission after only a little rest despite that not offering him full recovery. Indeed Obi-Wan had saved Qui-Gon's life upon returning to T'ias, and it was only after they were safely away on the Chancellor's personal transport that Obi-Wan had needed to deal with the effects he'd pretty much held in abeyance once they’d been reunited.

It was after this incident that they had found their bond significantly changed along with their relationship, and it had been those differences in the bond that had kept them grounded from field duty for almost a month, not the psychic shock. It was also the bond that was credited for yet another jump in Obi-Wan's Force and psychic abilities once the healers found out Obi-Wan could make use of Qui-Gon's own energy, just as if they had a life-bond.

Again, now, Qui-Gon had to wonder if that had been right, however -- or the only reason. The incident on O'omeal seemed to establish that in some ways Obi-Wan now had exceeded Qui-Gon's mental acuity and strength, which made little sense if the bond was the cause as Qui-Gon had not experienced any significant change in his own abilities. With Obi-Wan having needed to call upon Qui-Gon for energy and assistance just scant hours before to mitigate the damage at the club, still the shock had not rebounded to so affect Qui-Gon.

Was it somehow not Force related? Perhaps a mental ability outside of the Force, that might have occurred even had Obi-Wan not become a Jedi? If this was two separate yet connected manifestations, a growth in Force and mental abilities --

Whether from the Force or from some other new psychic ability, Obi-Wan was awakening even though his padawan should have slept for many hours longer just to make up for the night's rest he'd missed in assisting Siri, never minding the compulsion Qui-Gon had placed in Obi-Wan's mind.

Qui-Gon reached out carefully, mindful of how using the Force thusly might still affect Obi-Wan, and made sure his padawan was subconsciously aware of his nearness. This gave him time to log out of the work he'd been pretending to finish so he wouldn’t need to leave Obi-Wan again to repeat that which he had managed. He set the untouched Wallin Spice tea back to heating before returning to the bedroom and sliding in next to Obi-Wan just as his padawan finished fighting his way to wakefulness.

And found Obi-Wan not as aware -- or pain free -- as he'd hoped. Eyes closed, yet still Obi-Wan turned toward him instantly, and he returned the hug then brushed his lips across the crown of Obi-Wan's head before drawing back just a little that he might have visual as well as mental cues.

"Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan simply burrowed deeper into Qui-Gon's embrace, his "Master?" in response almost completely muffled.

At least his speech didn't seem slurred. But there was still an aura of confusion about him that wasn't solely due to his unrelieved fatigue, causing Qui-Gon to think maybe a trip to the healers was still going to be necessary beyond the follow-up testing they would want to conduct as before, after such an incident.

"Let me in, Padawan," he requested and relaxed his own shields to better induce Obi-Wan to do the same. Obi-Wan had been shielding since the start of the initial explosion, blocking all that he'd been feeling except for the one instance of needing Qui-Gon's help to bolster the Force shield he'd erected against the shattered ceiling.

Still there was resistance, but Qui-Gon was somewhat heartened to feel it more out of trying not to share or even broadcast Obi-Wan's continued distress, instead of the cause being that Obi-Wan couldn't lower them. Fervent over-protectiveness was something Qui-Gon was used to from his padawan, and not beyond his means to overcome.

"Trust me to determine how much I can handle," he said dryly, but reached out both physically and mentally to soften the rebuke -- and to also offer a little of his own energy, but for his own means instead of Obi-Wan's. His padawan might be approaching or even exceeding his own measure of Force abilities, but had nowhere near the experience or even half the number of tricks Qui-Gon could call upon to deal with mental pain or physical fatigue.

The shields came down and Qui-Gon was instantly inundated with equal measures of stubborn pride and shame, the very essence of Obi-Wan too often in his duty to his master. Qui-Gon knew that Obi-Wan knew he had no call or need to worry so, yet Obi-Wan had done so even at their first meeting, before they'd paired as master and padawan. Overall -- and surprisingly at least to a few of the members of the High Council -- Obi-Wan was actually getting better about recognizing his worth and growing parity between them now that they'd become lovers, instead of it being worse as others had feared – had expected.

Sifting very carefully through Obi-Wan's emotions, Qui-Gon could find no trace of the migraine any longer, but he could see that Obi-Wan feared loud noises or bright lights would trigger its return. He also found that the residual tiredness caused earlier by the level of pain had drastically increased Obi-Wan's more ordinary exhaustion brought on by lack of sleep in over thirty hours. But as Obi-Wan had already proven resistant to Force-induced sleep as well as that which should have naturally continued, Qui-Gon wasn't sure how best to deal with it this time.

Until he noted additionally that his padawan ached all over as if he'd been physically sick for days, or had overextended himself in katas or combat instead of most of his exertions being mental. That, at least, could be dealt with, which might also relax Obi-Wan enough again for true sleep. Qui-Gon had already filled their near pool-size, sunken tub that outside of their bed, was the most obvious evidence that these rooms had not been initially configured for a species as small as humans.

"Help me medit-tate," came a mumble that made Qui-Gon shiver as Obi-Wan's moist breath tickled against his bare skin. "S-still feel like I'm channeling the Force," he then heard more clearly; Obi-Wan having finally turned his head to now lay with his ear pressed against Qui-Gon's chest instead of pressing lips. "S'like I haven't really let go of the debris and all of this –you -- are just my mind trying to distract itself from the task." The soft sigh that accompanied this confession had Qui-Gon closing his own eyes in sorrow.

Feeling so strongly connected to the Force even after letting it go was a common occurrence after any intense use. Similar to any extraordinary feat of mundane concentration -- such as working with numbers or code -- even a Jedi's brain occasionally continued the effort during dreams or tasks requiring lesser focus. Meditation was indeed an acceptable way of reordering things.

Qui-Gon was worried however, about Obi-Wan's confusion as to what might be real. His padawan had always been prone to visions, but he normally awoke knowing what had been a vision, and what had been simple dream or nightmare. Yet since his recent experiences during Plo Koon's death, in sensing the event as if he'd actually been there and as if all but the very end had happened to him instead of Plo then the subsequent recalling of that vision for the Council to also witness, the frequency in which Obi-Wan had visions had increased. As had the blurring in his mind between what was vision and reality.

The crisis on O'omeal had exacerbated this no less than subsequent bouts of psychic shock had altered his other Force abilities. By needing to consciously direct memories so that Qui-Gon experienced them as reality while his mind and body had been suspended so that he might survive until Obi-Wan's arrival, Obi-Wan had done a lot more than blur a line -- he had actually recreated memory until it was reality -- for them both.

Even Yoda had been surprised at that trick, but the actual ability and any potential consequences had been basically forgotten, as the next few days had Qui-Gon recovering from his physical injuries and Obi-Wan spending all of the time not at Qui-Gon's side, working to disprove the accusations directed against Mace and Jame that they'd discovered on O'omeal. There'd also been their personal conflict upon learning of the charges against Jame that had brought out Qui-Gon's pettiness and jealousy to deal with, which had seen much more important than what Obi-Wan had done to allow them to have that conversation. While Qui-Gon's near fatal injuries had led Obi-Wan to forgive him even before they'd discussed what had happened, Qui-Gon had not been about to let something like that stay between them even in the background of their memories, and so they had mended their relationship instead of explored a bond or Force driven ability.

"Sex then," came another, somewhat desperate suggestion as Obi-Wan was following Qui-Gon's thoughts. "Sex with you is always real."

Realizing his own tendency to worry a question from all angles was not serving Obi-Wan's current needs, Qui-Gon mouthed an apology against Obi-Wan's forehead. Then, with full regret, "We're not going to tax your recovery by having sex."

"Trust me to determine how much I can handle," was instantly thrown back at him with the same level of dryness, the same inflection.

With Obi-Wan still keeping his eyes closed, it didn't really matter that Qui-Gon's scowl came out as a grin. Nor should he be hiding his relief that Obi-Wan was alert enough to so confront him, even if it was with something suspiciously close to defiance.

"Meditation, yes," he said in full sternness before completely undermining his own cause by running his hands down Obi-Wan's back and cupping his lover closer to him. "Meditation and a good soak. Do you think you're up to doing both together?"

He felt Obi-Wan's nod, again feeling uncommonly aroused by the brush of Obi-Wan's hair against his skin. Knowing that sex truly was the last thing on his mind, he concluded it was more Obi-Wan's desires he was being influenced by and not his own. But even as Obi-Wan put his arms around Qui-Gon and pressed closer, Qui-Gon could feel that Obi-Wan had no erection, just desire. Qui-Gon grinned again to himself. Either Obi-Wan was extremely confident in his own recuperative abilities, or he was expecting quite the miracle from Qui-Gon.

But they'd already had their miracle in Obi-Wan's survival and should ask for no more, even if there were still a few questions to be explored and the fullness of his recovery to get through.

Qui-Gon disengaged from Obi-Wan and rolled away to sit up with his feet firmly against the floor before pulling Obi-Wan into his lap. Once Obi-Wan secured his arms around Qui-Gon's neck again, Qui-Gon stood, one hand under Obi-Wan's thighs and the other offering support just below Obi-Wan's shoulders. While his lover might have hoped to reach Qui-Gon's height when he was younger, just for such instances was Qui-Gon glad he had not.

It was only a matter of caution and a little judicious calling upon the Force to get them across the room and lower them both into the steaming bath without having to part. Qui-Gon then encouraged Obi-Wan to straddle his lap and kneel in the water lapping against them at chest height.

Leaning into each other and simply feeling the water, the warmth and their closeness should have started to relax Obi-Wan, but instead he moved quite deliberately against Qui-Gon, rocking his hips forward. Qui-Gon raised his head from next to Obi-Wan's and prepared to gently dissuade, but that only gave Obi-Wan opportunity to claim his lips, his mouth, pressing then thrusting his tongue inward almost frantically.

Qui-Gon's body couldn't help but respond; yet notice his lover's was not, which quickly dampened his own arousal. And so the master reached up to use his hands to do what Obi-Wan was preventing from being said with his lips. Still Obi-Wan only clutched him closer, almost trying to breathe through Qui-Gon -- or stop breathing entirely.

*No, Obi-Wan, enough,* he commanded through their link, needing to pull away, to pull Obi-Wan away. *I am here, my love. This is real.* Refusing Obi-Wan's questing lips, he cradled Obi-Wan's head instead in both hands, spanning his fingers around the back and brushing his thumbs at the point just behind Obi-Wan's ears, the one digging gently through his padawan's braid.

Obi-Wan's moaned in protest at first in being denied, but then his breath caught and he couldn't help arching back to increase the contact of Qui-Gon's touch. Yet his eyes were squeezed together too tightly, a furrow of pain or uncertainty still lined between them, blood filled tears still caught on his lashes.

"Obi-Wan -- padawan, open your eyes. See me, know me. Find your center."

The eyes snapped open in direct response to his master's order, but Qui-Gon could tell that Obi-Wan saw nothing that was actually present before him for reasons that had nothing to do with the red that filmed them over.

*Padawan, ground and center!*

*H-help me?*

With a groan for acting outside his better judgment, Qui-Gon closed his mouth over Obi-Wan's even as he moved one of his hands from Obi-Wan's head and dropped it down before reaching under his lover, having to hope that the therapeutic oils in the water would be enough to ease his finger's passage. "First koan of the initiate's catechism," he growled into that sweet and yielding mouth, taking Obi-Wan back to what had been learned in the crčche. "Justice," he ground out in the same instant he breached Obi-Wan's body.

A choked breath before Obi-Wan pulled away and drop back his head to bare his neck too temptingly. "J-jedi are the guardians of peace in the galaxy," he stuttered from the effort. Or the burn. "Jedi use their powers to defend and to protect, never to attack others."

"Enlightenment!" Qui-Gon withdrew his finger entirely before lifting Obi-Wan up within the water then thrusting in deeply again, reaching for and finding Obi-Wan's prostate.

"Know … knowledge over ignorance," Obi-Wan cried out. "A Jedi seeks to improve themselves through knowledge and t-training. When a master learns from his apprentice the m-match is true," he then added outside of the koan with a sob.

"Devotion," Qui-Gon demanded although his tone softened and his heart clenched in seeing the tears now falling. Another thrust with his finger that brought electric pleasure and a definite surge of Obi-Wan's arousal finally, both mentally and physically.

"Jedi respect … all life, in any f-form." Despite the hitches in his voice, Obi-Wan's words were coming stronger both in voice and in mind. "Jedi serve others, rather than ruling over them, never putting his own needs before another's and for the good of the galaxy."

"Ideals." A second finger now, after a quick shift of his grip. Qui-Gon scissored them almost roughly and opened his mind fully to their bond so that he might feel what Obi-Wan was and make sure he was not making things worse.

"There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge."

Curling his feet under and floating on his heels, Obi-Wan could now drive Qui-Gon's fingers deeper, could direct the fingers even as he was denied the fullness his body was demanding. "There is no passion; there is serenity. There is no death; there is the Force."

"An initiate’s understanding of the Force," Qui-Gon insisted next, ignoring the wordless plea that broke from his lover. His third finger, while he pressed and then edged his thumb against Obi-Wan's perineum, holding his lover open and providing the fullness but no longer the thrusting.

Caught between desire and obedience, Obi-Wan was forced to turn more of his concentration to the moment to find his way out of the dilemma Qui-Gon had presented him. As a child of the unifying aspect of the Force, Obi-Wan's entire life was comprised of patterns and rituals, those both general to all Jedi and also those specific with meaning only to him. His was also a mind well disciplined and well trained, although the latter had much more to do with Obi-Wan's own ability and desire to learn than the skill of any of his teachers Qui-Gon felt, himself included.

Even as Obi-Wan started on the words, Qui-Gon could sense as his mind began to remember and believe.

"The Force is an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together. Even when unable to access the Force, it is ever there, a part of life and living and so we are never truly alone."

Just one more wondrous product of their bond of Fusion was that Qui-Gon not only could anticipate the responses of that well-ordered mind, but could actually observe the thought patterns as they were being formed. He found himself falling within the beauty of what was as much Obi-Wan's essence along with the glowing aura of energy and life that filled his padawan.

No longer able to stand keeping himself apart from that beloved soul, Qui-Gon rewarded them both by replacing his fingers with his cock. *A padawan's vows?* this time he more asked than commanded, thrusting yes, but keeping it slow, keeping it a gentle, rocking motion as if they were both extensions of the water cresting around and caressing them.

"I will dedicate myself to becoming a Jedi knight," Obi-Wan breathed deeply. "To improve myself physically, mentally and spiritually to achieve that goal. I will be my master's student, accepting instruction with joy, praise with humility and correction with grace."

Obi-Wan was rocking now too, no longer frantic, no longer seeming as confused, as if the burn of Qui-Gon's presence in body and mind was also burning away the disarray of Obi-Wan's thoughts and emotions.

"I will honor my master, who speaks with the Council's voice. I will serve my master and always strive to be a credit to him." He dropped his arms from Qui-Gon's shoulders, relaxing them upon the waves lapping around them as he continued his words and his movements. "All these things I swear to do until the Force shall fade, or my master releases me from my vow, or I am made a knight."

As his words ended, he leaned forward for a kiss that Qui-Gon was happy to grant. Desire still filled them both, but lust was now subsumed to love, the coupling an augmentation to the closeness between them instead of being an end in and of itself.

"I will guide my padawan, teach him what I can and find others to teach what I cannot," Qui-Gon began his own response to Obi-Wan's joyous reaffirmation of his vows, also keeping them together in his embrace. "I will provide for his sustenance." Another kiss that had them both smiling as they doubted it was quite the sustenance that Udan Orr would have meant.

"I will offer praise often and correction when necessary, but I will always be his advocate before others. I will remember my padawan is in my service but not my servant. All these things I swear to do, upon my honour as a master, until the Force shall fade, or I release my padawan from his vow, or he is made a knight."

As his vows ended, they were both coming and this was something tender and all the more profound and precious for being without the thunder and blinding lightning.

There is no passion, there is serenity. But sometimes passion could be serenity. Just as blood tears could signify transcendent joy. And love could be as infinite and everlasting as the Force.

Love that fuses two into one,
Where we think the same thoughts,
Love the same things
Live as one.
Feel as one.
Breathe as one.

Loving you is not a choice
But it gives me purpose
Gives me voice to say to the world:
This is why I live
You are why I live.

-- Finis --

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