“Sleep now,” Payter said softly, giving his padawan’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Qui-Gon sensed a wave of the Force pass out of Payter and into Kerge, and the boy’s eyelids drooped suddenly, his body slack. In moments, he knew the boy slept, his chest rising and falling slowly, an antipode to Payter’s, which heaved as the large Jedi struggled to control his breathing.

Pouring a glass of cold water from a pitcher by Obi-Wan’s bedside, Qui-Gon reached out, offering it to his friend. “Here.”

It took Payter several moments before he looked up, meeting Qui-Gon’s gaze. “Thank you,” he said softly, taking the glass between his shaking hands. He took a long drink, and finally settled the cup on the tray beside him. Payter released a ragged sigh, and then waved at one of the stools beside Kerge’s bed. “You should sit.”

Qui-Gon eased into the chair, leaning his elbows on his knees. He watched as Payter took a seat himself, his broad shoulders finally ceasing to tremble. There had only been one or two other times in all the years he’d known Payter that he’d ever seen his friend quite so disturbed. For his diplomatic training, he wasn’t sure what to say.

Payter scrubbed a hand down his long face. “You cut the link with Slade, didn’t you?”

“Yes, once we got in the Infirmary.” The link between them had finally been severed, and although Qui-Gon worried for the other boy, he knew that Obi-Wan was beyond exhausted. A thick headache had already banded itself around Qui-Gon’s mind, but he paid it little heed. It was worth any discomfort to have Slade in the safety of the Temple again.

“Where is he?”

Qui-Gon turned in the direction of the corridor. “He’s still with the Healers. They’re trying to counteract the effects of the drugs they were pumping into him. But he’s going to be all right.” Letting out a slow breath, Qui-Gon met Payter’s gaze. “We did it.”

Payter nodded, his expression passive. “I know.”

“I wasn’t sure we were going to make it in time.”

“We almost didn’t,” Payter said. “If they’d been professionals, we would never have seen him again.”

Qui-Gon shuddered, running a hand through his hair, which now hung in disheveled pieces around his shoulders. “But we saved his life.” It still sounded strange in his ears, even though he knew that Slade was in the room beside theirs.

Payter scoffed, closing his eyes. “We brought him back alive. There’s a difference.”

“Yes, there’s a difference,” Qui-Gon said quietly. “Obi-Wan didn’t lose his best friend. Our Order didn’t lose a Jedi.”

“You don’t get it, Qui-Gon. Yes, that’s one saved. And I’m thankful. But if you had any idea--it’s barely a drop in the bucket,” Payter said, his tone suddenly edged with a laser’s sharpness.

“What do you mean?”

“This is the third one for me this year.” Payter dropped his gaze, his hands limp in his lap. “And Slade is the only one I brought back.”

Qui-Gon said nothing for a few moments. As it had always been where Payter was concerned, silence was preferable to any sort of platitude. Still, he couldn’t remember the last time when he’d heard his friend sound quite so defeated.

“When they came to you, to ask you if you wanted to do this, why did you say yes?”

Payter looked up suddenly, his haggard expression changing to slight wariness. “Because I knew I could do it.”

“You could do a lot of things, if you tried.”

“Yes, but I knew I had the right profile for the job. I had the necessary qualifications.” Payter seemed to grow frustrated with their conversation. “You know all this. They asked you too; you know what they were looking for.”

“Yes. But I wouldn’t have been able to,” Qui-Gon said, shaking his head. For a moment, he thought Payter might correct him, but as he initially suspected, Payter nodded back. “I know.”

“I’ve never seen you on a mission like that before. It was something unlike anything I’ve never experienced,” Qui-Gon said, choosing his words carefully.

“Don’t mince words, Qui-Gon. You’ve known me long enough. I know exactly how I acted, and it’s exactly how you have to be to get the job done. I’ve learned that over the years.”

Qui-Gon eyed him evenly. “You walk a very fine line. Between dark and light. I never knew how fine.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know,” Payter said, his tone unyielding. “You chose not to know. And you’re better off for it. But I know the difference. I’ve never chosen the Dark path.”

Qui-Gon nodded slowly. Although his friend’s actions over the past day had disturbed him, he knew the truth. “I know.”

“I don’t regret what I do. Because it has to be done.” Payter rubbed a hand across his forehead, taking a quick breath. “But it was harder this time. Harder than it ever was before. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Qui-Gon rested a hand on Payter’s shoulder for a moment, then dropped it to his side. He looked down at Kerge, who slept peacefully beside them. “They make things a lot more difficult.”

“There are times I look at him, and I see a Jedi Knight, someone completely capable and fully trained, ready to take on the galaxy. And then I look again, and I realize, he’s thirteen. He’s a kid. And I’m throwing him in front of blaster fire.” Payter gestured with his hands, finally clenching them into fists.

“But you’re training him to avoid that. When you’re through, there won’t be a laser he can’t dodge.”

Payter looked down at the bacta patch on his padawan’s arm. “He got lucky today. But what if--”

“You don’t have to say it. I know, believe me. Because I would rather die a hundred times than to have anything happen to mine.” Qui-Gon felt his voice start to shake with the force of his words, and he swallowed quickly to cover his lapse.

“They tell you to train this kid. Be an authority figure. They don’t tell you when you sign up for this, how much. . .” Payter stopped, shaking his head. “If I ever see Rian again, I will not be held responsible for what happens.”

“He wasn’t ready. He had no idea what he was doing,” Qui-Gon said softly. Payter crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t care. He deserves to be stripped of his rank and dropped on an Outer Rim moon herding ton-tons. That’s after I beat him senseless, of course.”

“Of course.” Qui-Gon rose to his feet stiffly, a wave of dizziness passing over him, and he suddenly realized how much the day had taken out of him. “You all right?”

“I will be.” Payter’s gaze fell back on his sleeping padawan. “Go check on your boy.”

Qui-Gon nodded, walking slowly across the room to where Obi-Wan lay curled, his blankets in disarray at his feet. Easing onto the bed, he arranged the blankets over the boy, finally settling himself beside him. Weariness tugged at his mind, urging him into sleep, but he swept a hand over the boy’s hair, thankful the boy slept easily. Obi-Wan stirred slightly, instinctively moving closer to Qui-Gon. He sensed a wave of relief pass through their bond, as if Obi-Wan hadn’t been able to fully rest until he knew his master could as well. Smiling slightly at the small boy, he planted a light kiss on his forehead, inexplicably grateful. Darkness draped heavily over his eyes, and finally he succumbed to the glorious pull of unconsciousness.

***

Even without any windows in the Infirmary room, Obi-Wan knew as soon as he opened his eyes it was the middle of the night. In the dim light of the room, he watched his Master sleep beside him, his breathing deep and even. For a moment, Obi-Wan almost closed his eyes and went back to sleep, but then he remembered why he’d woken up in the first place: Slade.

Moving very slowly, he untangled himself from the sheets and climbed to the floor, pulling up the blankets to make sure his Master wouldn’t get cold. He worried that his Master might wake up, but he could tell through their bond that he was completely drained. Looking across the chamber, he saw Knight Payter sitting beside Kerge, and both of them were asleep as well. Obi-Wan stepped quietly across the cold tile floor in his bare feet, rubbing his arms with his palms, trying to ward off the chill.

Blinking against the bright lighting of the corridor as he walked from the room, Obi-Wan moved down the silent hallway. He wasn’t sure where Slade was exactly. Reaching out to the Force, he tried to gain a sense of his friend, but his mind wouldn’t quite obey.

“Obi-Wan?” He turned to see Charr’a behind him, walking quickly up the hallway. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

He took a deep breath, shrugging. “Um, Slade needed me.”

She knelt beside him, placing her warm hands on either side of his head. “Does your head still hurt?”

“Not that much,” Obi-Wan said quietly. He wanted to see Slade, and he knew if he told her how he felt, she would send him back to bed.

“I can imagine it would,” Charr’a said. “And you need to rest. It’s very late.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan mumbled, turning his gaze to the floor.

Charr’a stood up, holding out a hand. “How about we make a deal? I’ll take you to see Slade for a few minutes, because I think he’d like to see you too. But then you have to go back to bed, all right?”

Obi-Wan took her offered hand, nodding. “Okay.”

They walked down the long corridor, passing through a set of large plastiglass double doors. “We’re almost there,” Charr’a said softly, giving Obi-Wan’s hand a squeeze.

Before they entered the room, Obi-Wan felt Slade’s presence faintly, and he began walking faster than the Healer, pulling her along. “He’s had a very rough day, Obi-Wan,” Charr’a said, holding Obi-Wan back for a moment. She opened the door, and Obi-Wan stopped, looking at the familiar form lying on a bed, several machines arranged around him, their lights blinking in the low light of the chamber.

Obi-Wan stepped closer but was unwilling to let go of Charr’a’s hand. “The machines aren’t hurting him, are they?”

“No. They just help us make sure he’s okay.” Charr’a approached the bedside, gently smoothing a hand over Slade’s forehead. “Slade?” His friend’s large purple eyes opened slowly, and Slade lifted his head, turning to look at them. “Hey, sweetie. I knew you were still awake so I thought you might like to see somebody.”

“O...Obi-Wan,” Slade whispered.

“Hi,” Obi-Wan said, releasing Charr’a in order to climb into the seat beside his friend.

Obi-Wan stared at his friend, wincing. His face looked swollen, with several thin cuts gracing one of his cheeks. His scales were dull, and it seemed like it was hard for him to breathe. “I’m glad...you came.”

There had been so many things he’d wanted to tell Slade, but now that he sat across from him, it seemed like they’d all flown from his mind. He bit his lip, thinking hard. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was really worried.”

“Me too.”

“I missed you.”

Slade closed his eyes for a moment, nodding slightly. “I missed you too.”

Obi-Wan folded his legs under him, trying to sit up higher. “It would be bad if you didn’t come back. You’re my best friend. I don’t want another one.”

A brief smile passed over Slade’s lips, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. “Have you seen...my master?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. He hadn’t seen Knight Rian since they’d entered the hotel, and after that, he wasn’t sure what had happened to him. “No. I don’t know where he is.”

“I thought he might...come to see me.” Slade swallowed with some difficulty, looking away. “Before he leaves.”

Obi-Wan looked up, confused. “Why would he leave?”

“He’s not going to be my master anymore.”

“But...he’s your master. He can’t leave. It’s against the rules.” Obi-Wan finished off with a sharp nod.

Slade turned away, and Obi-Wan suddenly saw his friend’s eyes shone with tears. “He didn’t bond with me. I wasn’t good enough.”

“No,” Obi-Wan whispered. “It wasn’t your fault. You’re one of the best Jedi I know, Slade.”

Slade shook his head, a miserable expression on his face as he brushed his hands over his eyes. “No. I’m not.”

***

Qui-Gon stumbled from the room into the corridor, using the bond to locate his Padawan. He knew where the boy had gone, but he didn’t want him to have to be alone. Charr’a met him outside the door to Slade’s room, clucking her tongue at him.

“You and your padawan are more trouble than you’re worth,” she said quietly, shaking her head at him. “I let them be for a few minutes. Slade hasn’t said anything to us, and I know he needs to talk to someone.”

“How is Slade doing?” Qui-Gon rubbed at his aching temples, forcing himself to let the pain pass through him.

Charr’a raised up her palms, shrugging slightly. “It’s hard to say. Physically he’s going to be fine, but he has asked for his master. Do you know what’s to become of him?”

Qui-Gon sighed, looking away from her earnest expression. “I don’t. But they’re not going to let him train Slade. Not after this.”

“They will find him another master, though,” Charr’a said, a question in her tone. “Yes. I can’t see why they wouldn’t.”

“He’ll be cleared to leave the Infirmary in another day or so, once his system has settled down from the effects of the drugs. They were paralyzing in nature, and he’s still not able to get up by himself yet.” Charr’a paused. “So where’s he going to go?”

Qui-Gon scrubbed his beard with one hand, silent for a moment as he watched the two padawans from the small window of the door. “I’ll take him.”

“Thank you,” a low voice said, and Qui-Gon turned to see Rian standing behind them.

Qui-Gon drew a quick breath, already stepping between the door and Rian. “About time you showed up. He’s only been asking for you all night.”

Tight lines of pain gathered around the corners of Rian’s eyes, and for a moment, Qui-Gon felt a sliver of pity pass through him. “Is he going to be okay?” Rian asked, his voice hoarse.

Charr’a eyed Qui-Gon, then turned to face Rian. “He’s going to live, yes. I will be back in a few minutes to check on him.”

Rian’s shoulders shook for a moment as he watched her leave, but he composed himself quickly. “I put in my resignation. They don’t need to tell me what I already know.” He met Qui-Gon’s gaze, unchecked sadness visible in his eyes. “Look, just take care of him. It wasn’t his fault. I’m leaving the Temple; there’s no need for me to be here. I can’t be here anymore.” His voice grew thick, and he cleared his throat. “Just tell him I said goodbye.”

“No.” The force of Qui-Gon’s tone gave Rian a start. “No. You’re going in there, and you’re going to tell him that yourself. That is the very least you can do.”

Rian said nothing, but turned away from them, pushing the door to Slade’s room open. Several moments later, Obi-Wan emerged, his eyes wide with confusion. “Master? What’s going on?”

Qui-Gon reached down and drew Obi-Wan into his arms, holding him close. “Slade needs to talk to Rian for a few minutes.”

He felt Obi-Wan’s arms tighten around his neck. “I didn’t think Masters could leave.”

“They usually don’t. But it happens sometimes.” He rubbed Obi-Wan’s back, sending him a wave of comfort through their bond. “And I’m sorry it happened to Slade.”

“You’re not going to leave me, are you?” Obi-Wan pulled away, looking Qui-Gon in the eye.

“No. Never.” He hugged the small boy tightly, shaking his head as he rocked him in his arms. Recalling Payter’s words, he smiled faintly. They could prepare you for training, for mentoring, but they didn’t tell you about this part of the job. “I love you, Little One. And don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t,” Obi-Wan said softly, breathing a sigh into Qui-Gon’s shoulder. “I love you too, Master.”

He rested his cheek on the top of Obi-Wan’s head, swaying slowly as he looked through the window at Rian and Slade. All of the air seemed to have left the room, and both master and padawan looked to be painfully gasping for breath. It was like watching a death.

Several minutes passed, and he heard Obi-Wan’s breathing finally slow as the boy slipped into sleep. Using a small amount of the Force to deepen his Padawan’s slumber, he adjusted the boy against his chest, thankful that Obi-Wan could rest.

The door opened, and Rian stepped out, his face pale and stricken. “Qui-Gon,” he said, taken slightly aback. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

“Did you tell him?”

Rian nodded reluctantly. “He knows. There’s not much else I can do, except go.”

Qui-Gon sighed, shaking his head. “Why didn’t you come to me? If I had known--”

“Because I didn’t want your help.” Rian looked away, adjusting his robes. “And now it’s too late.”

“I’m sorry for that,” Qui-Gon said softly, surprised by his lack of venom. Somehow he just didn’t have the energy to condemn the other Jedi. From the look of it, Rian would do that all on his own.

“Not nearly as much as I am.” Rian started walking away from him, his shoulders bent as if he carried a heavy pack. “Take care of him, Master Jinn.”

Qui-Gon said nothing, but turned instead to the door of Slade’s room. Moving inside quietly, he could hear Slade’s labored breathing.

“Slade?”

He crossed to the boy’s bedside, gently arranging Obi-Wan at the foot of the long bed. Slade wiped at his eyes fiercely, looking away from Qui-Gon. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

Slade closed his eyes, a single tear running down his cheek, and he brushed it away roughly. “I’m fine.”

Qui-Gon leaned over, reaching for Slade’s cool hand. “I know it doesn’t seem so right now, but it’s going to be okay.”

Slade resisted his touch at first, but his hand finally relaxed within Qui-Gon’s. “It’s never going to be okay again. I ruined everything.”

“Slade, look at me.” He waited until the large purple eyes opened, watching him. “Obi-Wan and I would have crossed the entire galaxy for you, even farther if we had to, to get you back. Because you are that important to us.”

“I don’t know why,” Slade muttered, shaking his head.

“Because we love you,” Qui-Gon said simply, pulling the blankets up around the young boy.

“Oh.” From the sound of the boy’s voice, Qui-Gon wondered for a moment if that had been the first time anyone had ever told him that.

“And we want you to get better very soon. So you need to get some rest. Do you think you might be able to sleep, or should I get Charr’a?”

Slade shook his head quickly. “I don’t need her. I’ll be okay.”

Qui-Gon moved away from Slade, checking to make sure Obi-Wan had enough covers. “Where are you going?” Slade asked, a fearful tone in his voice.

“Nowhere. I’m staying with you,” Qui-Gon said, settling into a chair beside both of them. “Is that okay with you?”

Slade nodded, closing his eyes. “Yeah.”

TBC