Qui-Gon inhaled slowly, eyes closed, focusing his thoughts on the Force. Each breath filled his senses with the extraordinary quiet of the Garden and the clean, sweet scent of blooming astraviolets. He could feel his own mind reaching out, joining in the harmonious blend of life signatures that crisscrossed the Garden. Kneeling on the soft carpet of grass, he let a wave of calm pass over his consciousness, filling the core of his being with the tranquil peace from soothing meditation.

Then he felt a hand brush the sleeve of his robe.

�Master,� Obi-Wan whispered.

He exhaled and opened one eye. �Padawan, what have I asked you about speaking during meditation?�

Obi-Wan�s chin drooped. �I know you said not to do it but it�s been a really long time and I don�t want to bother you but. . .I�m hungry.�

Qui-Gon sighed. �Just a few more minutes. This is the time for you to be quiet and center yourself with the Force.�

�I know that but--�

�Padawan.� He kept his voice quiet.

�Yes, Master.�

Qui-Gon reached out to the Force again, aware of its presence all around him. The Garden always managed to still his anxieties as no other place in the universe.

He felt Obi-Wan shift beside him. The boy wasn�t nearly as well-behaved during meditation times as Qui-Gon knew he could be, but then, Obi-Wan was only six. His birthday had been several weeks ago, but he really didn�t see much of a difference beetween five and six yet. He tried to ignore his Padawan�s restlessness, but finally he opened his eyes, unable to concentrate.

�Obi-Wan.�

The boy�s large blue eyes peered up innocently at him as he rocked back and forth on his rear end, knees tucked up around his chest. �Yes, Master?�

�We don�t sit down when we meditate. We kneel, remember?� He tried not to sound displeased, but he wanted Obi-Wan to understand the importance of Jedi practices.

Obi-Wan nodded. �But my feet fell asleep and they were pricking me and I couldn�t sit like that anymore so I had to move.� The boy stood up slowly, rubbing his knees. �I�m sorry, Master. But we were here for a long time.�

Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes, stretching stiff muscles. �We were only here for�--he checked his chrono--�Oh.� He couldn�t believe it had been more than an hour; usually he didn�t mediate with the boy for more than a half hour at most. His six-year-old attention span could barely take twenty minutes. No wonder he�d been fidgeting. �I�m sorry, Obi-Wan. . .you�re right, we�ve been here a while. You must be starving.�

Obi-Wan nodded, a pathetic expression on his face. �I am. It�s been years since we had lunch.� He rubbed his stomach emphatically. �My stomach is growling louder than Payter.�

Chuckling, Qui-Gon stood, walking towards the door. �Come on. Let�s get something to eat.�

Obi-Wan ran up beside him, taking his hand. �Are you cooking? Maybe Bel-San wants to come cook. He cooked last week, remember?�

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes, sighing. �Everyone�s a critic.�

***

�So what are you making?� Obi-Wan peered over the kitchen table, his gaze lingering on several large kufruits sitting in a bowl in the center.

Qui-Gon shrugged, looking through the pantry and frowning. �Slim pickings. Apparently I need to stop by Provisions tomorrow. Hmm.� He drew out a large red box, shaking it to make sure there was sufficient mix inside. �How about we have pancakes?�

Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose. �You always want breakfast, Master.�

�I thought you were hungry,� he said, starting to put the box away.

�I am! I am! Pancakes are great!� Obi-Wan nodded emphatically. �Um, can you put the kufruit in too?�

Qui-Gon smiled. �We can do that. I thought you didn�t like them.�

�I changed my mind.� Obi-Wan shrugged. �I do this week.�

�Okay.�

After adding the powdered mix into a large bowl and pouring in some water and eggs, he set the bowl on the table and handed Obi-Wan the spoon. �Here. You want to help?�

�Yes.� Obi-Wan grasped the spoon with both hands, making little grunting noises with each slow movement through the batter. �See? I�m strong.�

Trying not to smile, Qui-Gon nodded seriously. �Yes. Very.� He reached out and swiped the inside of the bowl with a finger, tasting it.

Obi-Wan dropped the spoon, nearly splattering batter all over them both. �Master! Don�t do that!�

Qui-Gon stood staring, finger in his mouth.

�Master Tuni said if you eat eggs raw in batter then you get really really really sick and then you know what? You die. You turn green and you die.� He pointed a sticky finger at Qui-Gon. �You don�t want to die, do you?�

Qui-Gon shook his head, somewhat perplexed. He knew you weren�t supposed to eat batter, but he did a lot of things you weren�t supposed to do. Like indulging six-year-olds. �Okay. I get the message. No more batter for me.�

Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest. �You promise?�

Lifting a hand, Qui-Gon said, �Cross my heart and hope to. . .not eat batter anymore.�

The boy gave a quick nod, and then continued stirring with great effort. �Well good.�

�You know, Master Tuni was just telling me the other day about what happens to people who don�t clean their rooms.� Qui-Gon concealed his smile.

Obi-Wan gulped. �Um, I think this is stirred enough.�

The door chime sounded a clear note, and Obi-Wan set down the spoon, tearing out of the kitchen at top speed. �I�ll get it!�

�No running!� Qui-Gon shouted after him.

A few moments later, Obi-Wan stomped back across the carpet to the kitchen, a scowl on his face. �It�s for you. It�s Teacher Bel-San.�

Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes. �Did you let him in?�

�Yes, Master.� He crossed his arms over his chest, sighing. �I thought it might be Slade.�

�Bel-San! We�re in here.�

The curly-haired Jedi popped his head through the doorway, grinning. �You left me all alone, Obi-Wan!� Qui-Gon knew the sarcasm would be lost on the boy; it generally was.

�Sorry,� Obi-Wan muttered, leaning against one of the cupboards.

Bel-San sniffed dramatically, walking across the room to where the preparation tray was heating up. �Hmm. Something actually smells good in here. Obi-Wan, you�re cooking, aren�t you?�

The boy smiled slightly, nodding at the bowl. �I stirred it and everything.�

Qui-Gon watched his friend and his Padawan with a bemused expression. Bel-San quickly dipped a finger in the batter, sticking it in his mouth. �That tastes good!�

�No!� Obi-Wan cried, his tiny forehead wrinkling in despair. �You�re not supposed to do that or you�ll turn green and die! Don�t they tell you this when you become a Jedi Knight?�

Qui-Gon stifled a laugh, and turned to Bel-San. �Yeah, Bel-San, you�d better listen to him. He�s very adamant about this.�

Bel-San lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. �I concede.� He backed away from the bowl, and Obi-Wan relaxed again. �So listen, are you going to invite me to dinner or what?�

�So did you want to stay for dinner?� Qui-Gon started pouring the batter on the tray. �If you feel like being helpful, you could cut up those kufruit there.�

Bel-San smiled, chuckling. �I was hoping you were going to ask me that. Especially since you really can�t screw up pancakes. At least not with me around.�

�So are you just over here to mooch as usual or do you have some other pressing reason to visit?� Qui-Gon winked at Obi-Wan, who was observing the exchange with a slightly confused expression.

Deftly slicing up the fruit, he slipped Obi-Wan a wedge as he spoke. �Actually, I wanted to know if you got that message from Mace.�

Qui-Gon checked underneath the sizzling pancake to make sure it wasn�t burning. �Message? From Mace?�

�I guessed as much. I think it�s still blinking on your wall. But listen to this: so you know how they have a Choosing day every other quarter? Well, guess who the Council put in charge of the next one.�

�That little. . .�--he eyed his Padawan, who was sucking all the juice out of the kufruit-- �weasel.�

�And, in typical spirit of our dear friend, guess who has enlisted our help?�

Qui-Gon flipped the pancake. �What a surprise. And fortunately for him, we don�t have anything else to do.� He rolled his eyes. �So when is it?�

�Tomorrow.�

�What?� Qui-Gon jabbed the air with the spatula. �You know, I can�t just rearrange my schedule. . .and Obi-Wan! He has classes.�

�Nope. Classes are canceled tomorrow, Master. I forgot.� Obi-Wan touched the first pancake, still cooling on a plate. �Ow! That�s hot!� He stuck his finger in his mouth.

Qui-Gon looked at Bel-San. �What�s that old saying about the brilliant with no common sense?�

Bel-San shrugged. �I don�t know. But anyway, are you going to go? He wants you to manage one of the sparring groups. I think for a group of twelves or something.�

Qui-Gon groaned, and then realized the next pancake was burning. �You�ve got to be kidding. The twelves are. . .well, kind of desperate. Doesn�t that man have any sense of decency?�

Bel-San swiped the spatula out of Qui-Gon�s hand. �Thank you. You�ve been officially relieved of cooking duty for the night on account of mental stress. And the fact I�m starving and I�m sure your boy is too.�

Qui-Gon sighed. �I think it�s abominable the way they work this crazy system. Do you know how many talented, worthy Jedi candidates we�ve sent off to the Agri-Corps to farm for the rest of their lives on account of that year thirteen rule?�

�What�s Agri-Corps?� Obi-Wan asked, still sucking on his finger.

�Be thankful you�ll never have to join.� Qui-Gon caught an accusatory glance from Bel-San, and he stopped his tirade.

�Well, what would you rather them do? Keep every kid in the Temple around forever? Eventually they grow up and we don�t have enough. . .well, they can�t all be trained. At least that�s what they told me.� Bel-San expertly flipped the pancakes and started to create a steaming stack.

Qui-Gon shook his head. �But that�s what we promise them. It�s practically deception. Even you. . . well, I�ve only been at one Choosing day in the last few years since. . .but, it was torturous to have to watch those poor kids vying as if their lives depended on it. . .and to know that I couldn�t--�

He looked down at Obi-Wan, who had come up beside him. He felt the boy�s hand tug his own.

�Master?�

�Yes?�

�Can we eat now?�

***

Obi-Wan held tightly to his Master�s hand as they walked down the long corridor to one of the larger Arenas in the Temple. Jedi of all sizes and descriptions crowded in around him, each one headed for the Arena.

�Are you okay, Obi-Wan?�

His Master looked down at him, a faint smile on his face, and Obi-Wan nodded. �Why are there so many people here?�

�It�s always like this on Choosing day. Just stay close to me; I don�t want you to get lost.�

�Okay.� Obi-Wan stared up at the curved ceiling of the dome, which gave an incredible view of the cityscape and dazzling sky. Colorfully decorated signs indicated the separate age groups, and his Master followed through the Arena towards the area marked for the twelves. Although the faces around him seemed to blur into a sea of nameless images, one suddenly came into sharp focus.

�Qui-Gon! I knew you�d be here. I�m glad you got my message.� Mace grinned.

Obi-Wan hung back behind his Master as the two Jedi shook hands. �Well, I guess you didn�t leave me a lot of time to change my mind about helping you out.�

Mace tossed off a laugh, and then he looked down at Obi-Wan. �So are you here to watch?�

�Yes, Master Mace,� he said softly, finally looking up to meet Mace�s dark eyes.

�It must be strange for him,� Mace said, shifting his gaze away from Obi-Wan. �He never had to participate in a Choosing, but all his friends will.�

Obi-Wan bit his lip to keep from speaking. He really didn�t like it when his Master�s friends talked about him right in front of him, as if he was a baby who wouldn�t understand. But Mace was his Master�s friend, and he didn�t want to get his Master in trouble with his friends.

�He�s not the only one to ever be Chosen early,� his Master replied, and Obi-Wan thought that his Master sounded a little angry.

�Well, not every Master works like Yoda does. If it wasn�t for Choosing day, I might not have gotten picked. Or Bel-San either. . .he was a twelve, you know.�

His Master sighed. �I know. I was there, remember?� He cleared his throat. �So what exactly would you like me to do with these kids?�

Mace shrugged. �You probably know better than I do; that�s why I asked you. The twelves are going to be the first to get observed; they deserve the first chance to get Chosen. Pair them off, and when the Masters come around, you�ll be referee. That�s about it, unless one of the Masters has a special request or something.�

Obi-Wan looked around at the group of older children that stood near the brightly lit Year 12 sign. Most of them were humanoids, but a few came from farther reaches of the galaxy. He locked gazes with a black-haired boy; he could feel the other boy staring at his Padawan braid. Obi-Wan stepped behind his Master�s formidable shadow. He wasn�t sure what was going to happen to the year twelves, but from what he could figure out, not all of them were going to be Padawans. Biting his lip, he reached out to the Force, relieved when its warmth washed over him. He couldn�t make sense of all the emotions in the room--far too many to distinguish one from another--but he knew that the group of older kids were very afraid.

A tug on his hand caused him to look up at his Master. �Obi-Wan?�

�Where are we going?�

His Master led him to a place behind the thin, luminescent barrier cable that marked off the sparring area. �You need to stay here, behind the cable, okay? I have to go talk to the twelves first, and then I�ll come back and join you until the Masters arrive.�

Obi-Wan nodded. �But Master, can I ask you a question?�

�Yes.�

�What�s going to happen to those kids?�

His Master sighed, and stooped down to rest a hand on his shoulder. �Today is the day when the Masters without Padawans come and see if they want to take a new Padawan. But after age thirteen, a student at the Temple can�t become a Padawan. So today is the last chance for some of these boys and girls. That�s why this is a very important day for them.� His Master stood up, ruffling his hair. �Just be good and stay here, all right? I won�t be long.�

He watched the tall form of his Master walk over to the other kids, and Obi-Wan touched his braid. He could see the black-haired boy looking at him again, and he dropped his gaze to the floor.

***

�Welcome, Masters. I am Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and I will be officiating the Year 12 demonstration today. There are nineteen young people here today, and they will each display, to the best of their ability, what they have learned at the Temple.� Qui-Gon felt the words catch in his throat. Despite his many years at negotiation, he never felt quite so false as he did when jumping through the Council�s hoops. �Thank you for your attendance today. We will begin in a few moments.�

He counted off the sizable group of Masters: twenty-eight. It was possible for all of the twelves to walk away a Padawan, but the odds were still not in their favor. Most Masters, especially the older ones, liked to Choose their padawans before they turned ten. Qui-Gon understood why; he himself had Chosen all his padawans, save one, at a younger age.

�Gilla and Vi-Denn, you�re first.� He waved the first pair into the sparring area, and he watched them bow respectfully to each other.

Once the sparring began, his job was not nearly so taxing. For the most part, the twelves were well-seasoned in the rules and techniques for basic sparring, and he had to call very few fouls. He knew they were all trying very hard not to foul, as it looked especially bad in front of the Masters, and he did his best to allow moderate leeway, only calling when a blatant foul move occurred.

Occasionally he looked over at Obi-Wan, the tiniest form in that area of the Arena. He peeked under the luminescent cable, watching each pair with great interest. It was slightly odd to think that Obi-Wan might have had to participate in a Choosing day; that seemed like such an impossibility from his perspective now. He remembered talking to Bel-San right before coming in the Arena several decades ago, when Bel-San had nearly developed an ulcer from worrying about being Chosen. His birthday had been only two months away, and that had been his last chance.

Each pair only received five minutes, so it didn�t take long for the list to exhaust itself. Checking his datapad, he called out the last two names.

�Yil-Lis and Kerge. You�re up.�

A thin human boy with thick, black hair pulled into a ponytail stepped forward, but the other child did not emerge.

�Which one are you?� Qui-Gon asked, looking around.

�I�m Kerge. I think Yil-Lis got Chosen earlier today.�

Qui-Gon nodded. He wasn�t sure who to pair the child off with; all of the other twelves had fought already, and he didn�t want to double anyone up. They had already had one turn to perform, and it would be unfair to offer that advantage to only one of them. �Well, would you mind sparring with me?�

Kerge�s green eyes grew large, but he shook his head quickly. �No, Master Jinn.�

Qui-Gon walked over to where the Masters had gathered. �There�s a bit of a change in plans; Kerge and I will be sparring together.�

A murmur worked through the crowd, but Qui-Gon turned away. He hadn�t intended to spar with one of the twelves, but it couldn�t be helped.

Taking off his outer robe, he pulled his lightsaber from his belt and then stepped into the sparring area. �Are you ready?�

�Yes, Master Jinn.� Qui-Gon thought the boy looked like he was going to throw up, but he took the boy�s word.

�Begin.�

They both ignited their lightsabers, and Qui-Gon held back, waiting for Kerge to make the first move. When he was a Padawan, he had been renowned for always making the initial advance, but now that he was a Master, he found it more interesting to see who would give in and attack first.

Kerge took the chance. He leapt forward, and Qui-Gon easily parried his attacks, meeting each blow with very little effort. Reaching out with the Force, he could anticipate the boy�s next move, but rather than end the bout quickly, he simply met the blow or dodged. He figured Kerge deserved the time to display his skill. The boy�s signature seemed somewhat off to him, but he knew the combination of nerves and fear of not being Chosen could wreak havoc to the most calm Jedi student.

Pressing forward, he pushed Kerge into a corner. The boy swiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of a hand, and then somersaulted high into the air, landing behind Qui-Gon. Raising an eyebrow, Qui-Gon smiled slightly. The boy had acted very intelligently. He knew he couldn�t fight his way out, so he had put himself back in a position of power.

Kerge took advantage of his newfound location and launched a barrage of attacks, coming in hard and fast. Surprised at how strong the boy was, he continued to block the thrusts, parrying them away from his body. His senses quickening, Qui-Gon observed the boy�s form more intently. There was something different about his lightsaber. He felt the slightest flash of warning through the Force, and he raised a hand. He needed to end their bout. �Hold!�

But Kerge did not stop. Already thrown forward by his momentum from the previous attack, Qui-Gon realized the boy was about to strike him.

Suddenly, Qui-Gon felt a rush of air sweep up around him, surrounding his entire body with the Force. Kerge slammed into the wall of air, falling to the floor. His lightsaber fell from his hand, rolling across the floor and slicing into the tiles.

The wall of air vanished. Qui-Gon felt an intense pain cross the bond he shared with Obi-Wan, and he ran over to the boy. His Padawan knelt on the floor, his hands splayed out on the floor to hold him up. �Obi-Wan! What happened?� He knelt beside him, rubbing the boy�s back reassuringly, feeding a little of his own energy into him. �Are you all right, Little One?�

Obi-Wan nodded, finally looking up. �His lightsaber was funny. He was going to hurt you.�

Qui-Gon shook his head, unsure of what exactly had happened. Somehow, it seemed Obi-Wan had managed to call up a Force wall, but that required an advanced manipulation of the Force. And how had Obi-Wan been able to anticipate what was going to happen? He stood to his feet, picking up his trembling Padawan. He read the boy�s signature carefully: Obi-Wan had drawn up a surprising amount of power, and it had weakened his system. Fortunately, it was nothing a little rest and calm wouldn�t fix.

One of the Masters came over to him, a concerned expression on her face. She held out Kerge�s lightsaber. �Kerge turned up the power on his lightsaber. He tampered with the crystals. It made his blade stronger. See that hole in the floor? It�s a good thing you called up that wall or you could have been seriously hurt.�

Qui-Gon nodded, a twist of sadness for the boy moving across his mind. This would destroy his chances at becoming a Padawan; no one would take him now. �Is he all right?�

A voice sounded from behind, tremulous. �Master Jinn, I just want to apologize. . .�

Qui-Gon turned to meet the red-streaked face of Kerge, whose hair now hung in wet, knotted pieces around his neck. �Do you realize what could have happened?�

Kerge dropped his gaze, wringing his hands in front of him. �I was wrong. I never should have tampered with my lightsaber. . .I never meant to hurt you or anyone else. . .I just wanted to win today. I am so sorry, Master Jinn. I know there is no excuse for what I did. I don�t deserve to be a Jedi.� He gulped back a sob.

Smoothing a hand over Obi-Wan�s head, Qui-Gon sighed as he looked down at the horrified, miserable expression on Kerge�s face. �What happened today never should have. A Jedi doesn�t rely on his equipment in battle, he relies on the Force. You didn�t do that today.� He dropped one hand to his side, reaching out and resting it on Kerge�s shoulder. �But I know how badly you want to become a padawan. You�re right, it�s not an excuse. But I understand that. I wish you hadn�t put that passion into breaking the rules in this case, though.�

He felt the older boy�s shoulder shake through his tunic. His voice was barely a whisper. �I turn thirteen in two weeks. This was my last chance.�

As the Masters dispersed, some of them now paired with one of the twelves, Qui-Gon felt genuine sorrow for the boy. Sometimes breaking rules in the Temple made for benefit and a show of ingenuity, but when it came to Choosing day, such tactics rarely made for anything but a contemptible display. Kerge had known the risk, and now he faced the penalty, which he might very well have to live with the rest of his life.

�I�m sorry for that, Kerge.� Qui-Gon walked the sniffling boy over to where one of the Year 12 group leaders stood. �I wish I could help you.�

***

�Do you want one scoop or two?�

�Two!�

�Are you sure?�

�Yes.�

Qui-Gon doled out two scoops of frozen chocolate cream in a bowl for Obi-Wan, and then scooped out some for himself. Since they�d been at the Arena, there had been no time to go to Provisions. He figured it had been a rough day for both of them. Sometimes one needed chocolate for dinner, although he knew Heri would be horrified at the lack of nutritional value of the meal. He put the cream back in the freezer unit, and then sat down at the table across from Obi-Wan, who was already dribbling chocolate all over his chin. �How are you feeling?�

�I�m okay.�

�Your head doesn�t hurt or anything, does it?�

�No. I�m okay.� Obi-Wan shoveled in another mouthful, licking his spoon. �You asked me already, remember?�

�I know. I just wanted to make sure.� Qui-Gon toyed with his bowl, pushing the melting cream around. �You know that you might have saved my life today.�

Obi-Wan looked up, his face a comical mishmash of pale skin and wet chocolate, but his expression was serious. �I didn�t want you to get hurt. So I stopped him.� Obi-Wan stirred his frozen cream. �But why did he do that? He was so sad.�

�He wanted to be a Padawan. But he tried to cheat to win. That�s not what a Jedi does.� Qui-Gon ate a mouthful of chocolate, hoping it would make him feel a little less rotten about what had happened. It didn�t.

�So now he can�t be a Padawan? What will happen to him?�

Qui-Gon shrugged. �It�s hard to say. It depends on where the Council sends him.� He sighed. �Kerge never should have done what he did, but I hate to see someone his age. . .well, he never should have cheated.� Qui-Gon spun the spoon around in his bowl. There was nothing he could do to change the situation, but he couldn�t help the pricking of guilt in the back of his mind on Kerge�s behalf.

�I never saw you use a lightsaber before, Master.�

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow, realizing the truth of his statement. �I guess you�re right.�

�Are you going to show me how to do all that?�

�It�s going to take some time, but yes, I will teach you everything I can.�

�Because that�s what a Master does.�

�Yes, that�s what being a Master is all about.�

The boy nodded, and then picked up his bowl, licking out the inside with great relish.

He looked at the child across from him, up to his eyes in messy dessert, and he tried to picture him as a Jedi Master. It didn�t work. �Obi-Wan?�

Obi-Wan slurped the last of his melted cream out of the bottom of the bowl very dramatically, a stained, dripping chocolate smile on his face. �Yes, Master?�

Qui-Gon shook his head, unable to fight the urge to smile. He handed him a napkin. �Wipe your face.�