Obi-Wan reached out along the bond he shared with his Master, holding his breath, waiting. Immediately, he sensed his Master’s mind, and the quietness of his signature. His Master was asleep.

“Okay. We’re ready. Bant and I are going to take our post outside his room, and Kerge, you’re out in the common room.” He kept his voice to a whisper.

“But Bel-San’s out there. We’re going to wake him up.”

Obi-Wan frowned for a moment, wishing Slade had been able to stay; Slade always seemed to have a backup plan in mind. His Creche Master had picked him up several hours ago. Fortunately, Bant had been able to take his place, and Obi-Wan was glad to be in her presence again, since they hadn’t seen each other much lately. “Bel-San won’t wake up unless you make a lot of noise, and you won’t. Just stay out of sight and keep your lightsaber with you. You’re the only one who’s allowed to carry one, so that’s why you should be by the main door.”

Kerge gave a quick nod, and patted the lightsaber on his belt. “I still can’t believe my Master let us all stay here tonight. You’d think they’d be onto us already.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “They’re all thinking about Master Yoda. They’re not even paying attention to what we’re doing.” Since the newsfeed earlier in the evening, his Master had barely said a word to him, and hadn’t even stopped by his room to tuck him into bed. He swallowed back his hurt feelings; he knew his Master had more important things to worry about than his Padawan right now. Which is why he needs my protection, Obi-Wan thought.

“What if. . .someone does come?” Bant whispered, her large eyes blinking quickly.

Obi-Wan put his comlink in his pocket, facing his friends. “We will protect my Master, and the Force will protect us. Right?”

“Right.” Kerge stood, his long legs tensed to move. “I’ll be in the common room if you need me.”

Obi-Wan gave the older Padawan a small smile, thankful for his assistance. Even though Kerge had nearly injured his Master during their first meeting, Obi-Wan knew he could trust Kerge. Kerge credited Master Qui-Gon as the one who talked Master Payter into taking him as a Padawan, and although Obi-Wan knew Master Payter had done things on his own, he didn’t bother to correct Kerge.

Kerge moved out of the room silently, and Obi-Wan turned back to Bant. “You ready?”

Bant nodded, picking up a blanket for them to sit on. “We’d better take one to keep warm with. It’s very cold in here.”

Obi-Wan sighed, helping her move the blankets into the corridor. “I know. My Master thinks this is perfect, but I think he was raised on an ice planet.”

The Mon-Calamarian girl stifled a quiet giggle, and she spread out one of the quilts outside of his Master’s door. “So what do we do now?”

Obi-Wan sat down, and patted the ground next to him. “We sit here and guard the door. And we don’t fall asleep.”

Bant blinked again, her mouth slightly open. “All night? I never stayed up all night before!”

Obi-Wan pulled one of the blankets around them both, ducking underneath so even his head was covered. Bant followed his lead, and Obi-Wan thought they must look like a two-headed Jedi. Pressing his lips together to remain serious, he leaned against the slide door to his Master’s chamber. He couldn’t fall asleep; he had to stay alert in case anyone came. Whether or not the dream was true, he knew that he couldn’t let his Master leave his side, or he was sure something bad would happen. Whomever had come after Master Yoda might try to get his Master too.

Bant started to yawn, and Obi-Wan nudged her with his elbow. “I’m awake,” she whispered back, indignant.

“I know. But don’t let me fall asleep either.” Obi-Wan didn’t want to have any more dreams, especially now. What good were dreams if you didn’t know they were just dreams or visions from the Force?

“I won’t,” she promised, drawing the blanket more closely around herself. “Obi-Wan?”

“What?”

“I missed you.”

Obi-Wan squeezed her hand under the blanket, and he smiled. “You too.”

***

Qui-Gon yawned, stretching his stiff arms behind his back. He hadn’t slept well; he couldn’t stop the clouds of worry and frustration from swirling through his mind. Slipping on his robe, he scrubbed a hand over his face. He still needed to trim his beard; he was probably getting to look a lot like Payter.

The apartment was still dark, since the sun wasn’t even up yet. Palming the slide door open, he suddenly stopped in midstep, looking down at the floor. Strewn across several blankets, the sleeping forms of Bant and his Padawan lay outside his chamber on the floor. Somewhat confused, Qui-Gon stepped over them, walking down the corridor. He didn’t even remember Bant arriving last night. Yawning again, he moved quietly through the common room, where Bel-San sprawled on the couch, snoring quietly. His apartment was quickly becoming a hostel.

Qui-Gon shook his head and entered the kitchen, opening the cooling unit to retrieve some juice. In the light thrown from the unit, he saw what looked to be a pair of feet underneath his kitchen table. Still holding the juice, Qui-Gon used a slight amount of Force energy to turn up the lights. Kerge sat at the table, his head resting on his arms as he slept, his lightsaber in hand.

Qui-Gon knew better than to stand close to an armed, sleeping Jedi. “Kerge,” he whispered, and the boy’s eyes leapt open. He pushed back from the table, stumbling to his feet, assuming a sloppy ready stance.

“Kerge, what are you doing out here?”

The dark-haired boy looked from side to side, taking in his surroundings. “Oh. Um. I was thirsty, and I came to get a drink.”

“And you fell asleep at the table?” Qui-Gon rubbed his temples, unsure if he was truly awake yet.

“Um, yes. I guess I forgot where I was.” Kerge slipped his lightsaber into his belt, yawning. “I’m going back to bed.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Just sleepy. G’night.”

Qui-Gon stood alone in the kitchen, drinking his juice silently. It seemed like everything had been turned on its head since his Master passed away. There were times he had lay awake for hours, and other times he didn’t want to leave his bed. His apartment was full of kind faces, but he still felt alone. Filling his cup again, Qui-Gon idly wondered who would be sleeping on Obi-Wan’s couch when he died, making sure Obi-Wan took care of himself.

Shaking off such dismal thoughts, he walked back into the common room, hoping Bel-San might have awakened at the sound of Kerge going back to bed. From the sound of the other man’s snoring, he knew he hadn’t. Mildly frustrated, Qui-Gon cleared his throat, trying again. Bel-San slept on.

Qui-Gon rubbed his eyes, sighing. “Bel-San. Wake up.”

His friend groaned, and turned over, nearly falling off the couch. “Ugh. Qui-Gon. What is it?”

“How many people are sleeping in this apartment?”

Bel-San closed his eyes, finally blinking them open. “Five. You, me, Obi-Wan, Bant, and Kerge.”

Qui-Gon sat in a nearby chair, fingering his juice glass. “How is it possible that you could know that and I didn’t?”

“Because you’re distracted and you haven’t paid attention to anything but the newsfeed for the last ten hours.” Bel-San yawned, sitting up. “I can see I’m not going back to sleep, am I?”

Qui-Gon started to get up, but Bel-San help up a hand. “It’s okay.”

“I found Obi-Wan and Bant sleeping outside my door, and I found Kerge asleep in the kitchen, armed with his lightsaber. What is going on around here?”

Bel-San shook his head, grinning slightly. “I have no idea. Why did we sew the hoods shut on Master Yoda and Sy-Mon’s robes?”

“Because we could.”

“There you go.” Bel-San flipped a wayward flop of curly hair back from his forehead, eyeing it critically. “But that’s not what’s really bothering you.”

Qui-Gon drained his juice, slightly annoyed and slightly relieved Bel-San knew him well enough to know when he was skirting an issue. “It’s Mace.”

“What about him?”

“I think I need to go to him. I think we need to talk.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

“You know there’s going to be a diplomatic meeting between the Jedi and the radicals. I want to be there.”

“I’m not so sure the odds are very good on that one.”

Qui-Gon sighed. “I know. But I think I need to be there, and the only way to do that is through Mace.”

“But you threw him out of here. He generally doesn’t appreciate that sort of thing, you know.”

“But why should I apologize? He’s the one that--”

“Don’t take offense, Qui-Gon, but you’re sounding like Obi-Wan now. You can’t blame Mace for something that he didn’t cause.”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. He knew Bel-San was right; his friend was generally right about these sort of things. Bel-San had always managed to get along better with Mace than either he or Payter, even when they were young. “Okay. I get it. I’m going to go talk to him.”

Bel-San craned his neck, staring at the chronometer on the wall. “It’s not even six in the morning. You’re going to wake him up.”

“I doubt very highly he’s sleeping either.” Qui-Gon pulled on his boots.

“Point taken.” Bel-San slid back under the blankets, yawning. “Good luck. I’ll hold down the fort, okay?”

“Now there’s a formidable sight. Bel-San: the mighty sleeping Jedi. No one will dare take on such a frightening foe.”

One hand poked out from beneath the blanket, his index finger pointed at the door. “You’re one wisecrack away from the other finger.”

Qui-Gon snorted. “Promises, promises,” he said, walking through the main door and locking it before he turned down the corridor towards the turbolift.

***

The door to Mace’s chamber slid open, and Qui-Gon took a quick breath to compose himself. Mace stood inside the doorway, his head tilted slightly to one side. “Well. I was wondering how long it was going to take.”

“I think we need to talk.”

Mace rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head. “Funny, but I thought I tried to do just that several days ago, and I nearly got thrown into a wall for my pains.”

Qui-Gon dropped his gaze to the floor, folding his hands in front of him. “You came to me at one of my lowest points thus far, Mace. That doesn’t excuse me for speaking to you as I did, but I want you to understand that I am never going to be the same after what’s happened.”

Mace folded his arms across his chest, letting out a sigh. “If you had just. . .there are things to you need to know. Things that would have changed your situation dramatically. But you threw me out, and you turned your back on the Council. I don’t take either of those things lightly.”

Qui-Gon felt his temperature rising, but he forced his voice to stay calm. “Do you think maybe we could discuss this inside?”

“Do you have a problem with the hallway? Are you afraid of what others might hear you say to me?”

Qui-Gon raised his hands, displaying both palms. “I am not here to argue with you, believe it or not. You and I have never agreed on many things, but at this moment, that doesn’t really matter. We are Jedi, and through the Force, we are brothers.” He clasped and unclasped his wrists, pausing. “I will say this to anyone who’s willing to listen. I came here to seek forgiveness. I am sorry for the way I treated you. I spoke out in anger and pain, and I blamed you for something that wasn’t your fault.”

Mace shook his head. “You blamed me for something that didn’t happen.” His friend’s voice had grown quiet. He gestured inside, stepping to the side. “Sit down.”

Heart pounding, Qui-Gon sat on the edge of a chair, unable to relax. “What did you just say?”

Mace checked the lock on his door, sealing the room. “This is what I came to tell you the afternoon after you returned from the Infirmary.” He pointed a finger at Qui-Gon, his expression solemn. “And if you think this was an easy choice, then you are gravely mistaken.

“The rumors you heard are true. Master Yoda was poisoned, and his presence did indeed leave us approximately twenty-four hours later. But, he is merely in stasis. Master Yoda is not dead.”

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, covering his face with his hands. He had wanted to believe this with all his being, but there had been no hope. He felt as if there was something breaking in half inside him. “But. . .I can’t feel him. How can this be?”

Mace slid into a nearby chair, as if breaking the news had drained him as well. “None of us can. With his body in hibernation, even his mental connections are withdrawn. It’s as if he merely--”

“Disappeared.” Qui-Gon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He felt himself tremble. “I don’t understand. Why. . .why would you do this? What is going on?”

“This wasn’t an attack on the Temple, Qui-Gon. This was an attack on the Republic. The Jedi are the keepers of the Republic; if you want to wound an animal, you strike its heart. But the only way we could discover our attacker was to allow them to believe their threat had been carried out. Now that they know Master Yoda is dead, for all intents and purposes, they were willing to come forward, and they have.”

“But. . .” Qui-Gon started, fumbling for words. His breath came fast. “You lied. To us all. Even the children, they all believe--”

“We did what we had to do. Deception is sometimes necessary to control a situation.”

Qui-Gon dropped his head, looking away from Mace. “I have been driven nearly mad with grief. The Temple is in pain; can’t you feel it? It’s pressing in on all of us! This situation is way beyond your control.”

“Would you rather we let the radicals know their attack failed? So they can try again? Maybe next time they’ll target the children instead. Or the Padawans.” Mace’s voice held a dangerous edge, but Qui-Gon was ready to meet it.

“You have given the radicals the diplomatic advantage. They now believe they have power over us. We need to take it back. And I want to be there to see that justice is upheld.”

Mace stared at him, incredulous. “You’re asking to meet with them? Absolutely not! You’re barely in control of your emotions now; imagine putting you in front of the men and women who nearly killed your Master.”

“You’re in way over your head, Mace. You know how to lead, and you know how to designate, but you don’t know diplomacy.”

“Ki-Adi-Mundi and Plo Koon are more than capable--”

“Of getting us all screwed.” Qui-Gon stood shakily to his feet, looking down at Mace. “If there was ever a time to be afraid, that time is now. We have an enemy with the skills to reach into our home and strike down the best of us.” He sighed, rubbing the sides of his aching head. “Jedi spend most of their lives running away from fear, thinking it will sink into them and taint them. Our enemy no longer has reason to fear us, now that they believe they can kill us. That is our advantage; we need to remind them why they should be afraid to cross the Jedi.”

“Nicely spoken, but that doesn’t get us any closer to a solution.” Mace closed his eyes, and Qui-Gon saw for the first time the deep lines etched in his friend’s forehead. He supposed he wasn’t the only one wishing for Master Yoda’s council right now.

“Who are these radicals, anyway?”

“They’re a group from the Outer Ring, near Telaxio. They’re from assorted tribes on the planet Lieyl, and they hate the Republic. Whenever we send diplomats, they generally return weeks later worse for the wear.”

Qui-Gon couldn’t contain his frustration. “And we’re just now doing something about this?”

“If you had any idea how many anti-Republic communities exist, you wouldn’t be talking as you do. We’ve got problems enough.” Mace steepled his hands, looking at Qui-Gon intently. “The radicals from Lieyl are strong. They’re passionate about their cause, and they are willing to kill to get what they want.”

“And what’s that?”

Mace sighed again, shaking his head. “We’re not sure.”

Qui-Gon bit his lip to keep from letting a sour laugh escape. “And you think you’re ready to negotiate with them?”

“What makes you think you’re going to suddenly have success when we’ve been trying for years to reach these people?”

“Because I don’t think I’m smarter than they are. But I do have more at stake than they do, because I have a Master’s honor to uphold, and I have the future of a Padawan to secure. And that’s more than enough incentive for me.” Qui-Gon held out a hand. “So the question now is, who’s driving?”

Mace narrowed his eyes at him, but clasped his hand in return. “You’re a cocky bastard, do you know that?”

“Then I guess I’m in good company.”

***

Obi-Wan palmed the slide door open, setting down his bag by the door as he always did. The apartment seemed quiet. Somewhat nervous, he reached out to the Force to locate his Master.

“Obi-Wan, is that you?”

“I’m home, Master,” he called out, following the sound of his Master’s voice to the bedrooms.

He stepped into his Master’s room, and suddenly the floor dropped out from under him. He was in a faraway circular chamber, and a shrill buzzing filled the air. It burned his ears; he tried to scream. His Master fell to his knees, writhing in pain, and he tried to run to him, but his legs didn’t work. Nothing worked.

“Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan, please!” He heard his Master’s voice, and he felt his Master’s arms supporting him, keeping him from falling.

Obi-Wan gasped as if the wind had been knocked out of him, clinging to his Master’s shoulder. This one had been longer than the last. He wasn’t sure he would ever get enough air inside him again.

“It’s okay, Little One, I’m here. I’m here. Are you all right?”

He nodded, dimly aware of his Master searching his signature and feeling at his pulse. Obi-Wan felt tears spilling down his face, soaking into his Master’s robe. Looking over his Master’s shoulder, he suddenly saw traveling bags on the bed. “Where. . .” He gasped again, panting for breath. “Where. . .are you going?”

He felt his Master’s hand smooth over his head. “Oh, Obi-Wan. . .there is so much I need to tell you. But I need to leave for a few days.”

Obi-Wan gripped his Master tightly, forcing the words out of his mouth. “You can’t go. Bad things will happen if you leave.”

“I know you’ve had bad dreams and visions, but you can’t rely on them to predict the future. The future is always in motion.”

He bit his lip to keep from sobbing. He couldn’t let his Master go on his own. If he did, he would never see him again. “I know what I saw. And I know you can’t leave.”

“I promise you I will explain everything as soon as I get back. Bel-San will take care of you--”

“No! You have to listen to me! I’m your Padawan!” Fresh tears sped down his cheeks, dripping in his mouth.

“Padawan, you need to be brave for me right now. Please trust me enough to let me do this.” His Master’s voice held no anger, but he knew better than to argue with him. “Can you do that?”

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered, burying his face in his Master’s tunic.

“I’m going to be fine, I promise.” He rubbed Obi-Wan’s back, and Obi-Wan could sense his Master’s concern for him seeping into their bond.

You’re going to be fine, Obi-Wan thought privately, because I’m coming with you.

TBC