.                      Bonds of Choice #10
                  Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series
                         by HiperBunny
                        (message 3 of 4)
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"All Masters take all Padawans with that knowledge.  It was never a
realistic consideration with you, Obi-Wan.  That's part of the reason why
we decided he should have you.  Master Yoda fought us, after a time, on
that one but finally even he had to concede the point.  There was no other
Master fit to train you, not to mention one or two other factors.  One of
lower intellect would only hold you back.  One of less activity would fail
to keep you busy, bore you.  One of lesser moral standards could ruin you
completely.  One of stricter Code interpretation might have never seen your
Potential to fruition out of narrow-minded thinking.  And then there was
your particular attributes to consider." Kourt turned his cup between his
hands, deciding how much to tell and how much to hide.

"Qui-Gon suffered terribly after the failure with Xanatos.  Even though he
knew of the possibility, he really believed he had succeeded with the boy. 
It was Yoda that saw the hidden flaw and his plan that exposed the
irreparable weakness.  Qui-Gon needed someone who would not be so … well,
bad for him.  We needed someone faithful, resilient, mild of temperament,
high in capability and with a bent towards caretaking.  Qui-Gon needs an
awful lot of looking after, recently."

"I noticed," Obi-Wan smiled.  "I like taking care of him.  It makes me feel
like I'm doing something worthwhile with my life, not just waiting around
to take the Trials."

"And that was another thing to recommend you for him.  He had things to
offer you that could be found in no other.  Your Potential frankly scared
the socks off most of those available to take a learner at the time.  He
was fearless…I wish you could have seen it.  The fact is, you two were just
about made for each other.  You just mesh well. Some people are like that. 
It took us a while to convince him that you needed him as much as he needed
you, but once we got the point across he was absolutely unstoppable.
 
"The others, Teril and Jayden have found similar relationships possible
with their students.  The Order generally take a great deal of interest in
the trainers who are allowed to work with the High Potentials.  I believe
it is because the three pairings were given a great deal of thought,
consideration, much testing, before they were formed." Kourt held out his
now empty cup and Obi-Wan filled it.

"And it's just coincidence that almost everyone in my training group was
taken on by someone in your little club, right?  What about Corubia?  Why
didn't you find a Master for her?  I know she and Torlamin got along, but
they were nothing like Jenji and Ar'thapa.  What happened?"  Obi-Wan forced
himself to sit back in the seat.

"We did find someone.  The Council did not allow our choice to take her
on.  So did Torlamin, blast her.  At the time I was rather fixed on getting
you and Qui-Gon together.  Corubia came up for consideration, but I never
thought Torlamin would… I didn't even know she was looking for another
Padawan." Kourt looked down. "If anything, I thought she might try for
you.  Certainly there was no interest expressed in Corubia before it was
made very clear to Torlamin that she would not have you.  And when she
did…I was caught by surprise, on several points."

Obi-Wan considered that in light of what he had learned from his files. 
"Who would have been Corubia's teacher?"

"Oh, come now, Obi-Wan.  You can work this one out for yourself, can't
you?" Kourt made a little toasting gesture with his teacup.  "Why, I would
have.  And now, finally, I get my chance.  Now that a certain amount of
stubbornness has been allowed to wreck havoc on too many lives, I will get
to say 'I told you so'.  It's not nearly as satisfying as one might think. 
Especially in a case where one so precious might have been caused much
damage."

"I don't know.  She's pretty resilient in the area of trauma shock,"
Obi-Wan opined.

"Yes, that's true.  She is.  Still, there are some tests yet to run and I
think you might do well to help us run them. Do you agree that this might
be for the best?" Kourt was deadly serious.

"It would keep Corubia from feeling accused, anyway."

"If we call on you to test, would you be willing?"

"Of course, Master Crowe."

"It will not just be Corubia we test.  I want you to understand that.
Torlamin is not a lost case…well, officially she isn't.  We have a duty to
try and save her, though I personally think there isn't much to be done
with her.  There are many things yet to try, some of which require the
strength of many to effect.  It may bring stress to your weakest places,
though I rather doubt it.  At least, I'll try to keep any discomfort to a
minimum." Kourt's eyes now held something in them that made Obi-Wan believe
that every single horrifying story about him was true.

"I know the name of my Weakness, Master Crowe.  And I know it can be
defeated as long as I do not try to face it with my strength alone."
Obi-Wan wrapped his right hand around his upper left arm.

"When your Master awakens, please have him contact me.  We'll both need to
make reports to the Council before we can go any further.  I'll want to
speak with him before that report is made.  And now, if you'll excuse me, I
must go and speak to other friends.  I asked Corubia where she wanted to
stay.  She doesn't want to be in her quarters for obvious reasons.  She
asked if she could stay here with you and Qui-Gon."

"I will give him the message.  She will be more than welcome here for as
long as it takes us to heal her."

"Thank you. Padawan Kenobi.  And your confidence is reassuring." Kourt put
his cup down and stood.

"Corubia can handle this.  It is possible that she has already handled
worse." Obi-Wan stood to see his visitor out.

"Yes, I suppose that's true.  But I meant your confidence in yourself.  It
is good to see you improving so well. Good day." And the door slid shut
behind him.

*********************************  

"Ow ow ow. Shit," Obi-Wan swore, tugging his innermost shirt off. "How did
I miss THAT?"

"Good question, Padawan.  You didn't feel it?" Qui-Gon was leaning against
the bathroom wall, balanced on one foot.  His other ankle was still a bit
tender. 

"Nah.  I think I felt something on the way home, but … it doesn't look too
bad." Obi-Wan twisted his body around, looking at the palm wide burn from a
couple of different angles. "It trashed those robes for sure, though."
Obi-Wan picked up a washcloth and soaped it up under the tap. 

"Here, let me help," Qui-Gon slid up onto the counter and took the cloth
from Obi-Wan.  He cleaned the wound as gently as possible, then covered the
burn with his hands. "Just try to hold still."  

Obi-Wan relaxed under the familiar feel of his master healing a lightsaber
burn.  This one was deeper, not like what he occasionally received in
practice sessions.  This one had been given with purpose.  He blanched,
looking at the placement. A few inches to the left and the blow would have
spilled his guts all over the desert sand.  Obi-Wan shuddered at this
realization.  

It wasn't often that Jedi engaged in true saberfighting.  There weren't
many weapons like a lightsaber, so learning to defend oneself from an
opponent who bore one had become more tradition than anything else. 
Obi-Wan had used his skills with a slingshot more often than he had his
dueling technique.  But learn and learn well did each and every Jedi, how
to disarm and kill anyone armed similarly to themselves. Generations had
spent hours and years learning skills that they had never used in a
real-life situation.  Centuries of tradition and expertise had gone into
the techniques taught to everyone who bore the title ''Jedi".  All with the
thought that, should the Sith rise again, whoever faced them would be
ready.  Or, should one of their own turn to the Dark Side, he could be cut
down and destroyed by the warriors of the Light.  

And now it occurred to Obi-Wan that he was the final product of all those
years of training.  Everything known by the Jedi, everything they stood
for, collectively and as individuals, had come together in his action of
defeating Darth Maul and imprisoning Rue Torlamin.  In his mind he could no
longer call her 'Master'.  That spoke of her as a true and faithful Jedi,
which she clearly no longer was.  And the fact that he had not really
needed his 'saber at all was truly ironic.  He wondered if he would have
been touched at all, had he used his preferred weapon.  Then again, what
foreknowledge had been available indicated that he might not have survived,
had he used his lightsaber.

*Paradox of prophecy.  And I guess I'll never know the answer to that
particular puzzle.* Obi-Wan smiled to himself.  *I'm just grateful to have
my skin more or less intact.*

"There, all done," Qui-Gon pulled his hands away from Obi-Wan's side.  The
skin was pink and touchy, but whole once more.  Obi-Wan dusted bits of
charred skin away and undressed for a shower. 

The shower was long overdue.  He hadn't felt like bathing when he came in
and the urge had only decreased as weariness set in.  It wasn't until
Master Crowe left that he realized he was still in his filthy uniform and
probably carrying a rather strong odor.  Then Qui-Gon had awakened and
Obi-Wan had helped him finish up healing his shoulder.  Finally, though,
the warm water flowed over him, washing away salt and sand, not to mention
substances of an unknown origin that he'd just as soon not think about.

When he stepped out, Qui-Gon handed him a towel. 

"Did you just stand there and wait to do that?" Obi-Wan squeaked.

"Yes.  Well, no.  I also wanted to do this." Qui-Gon held out a bottle of
rose oil.

"Master, if you wanted a massage you needn't stand and wait for me to
bathe.  I would have done it before I came in here," Obi-Wan took the
bottle from his master and gestured for the door.

Qui-Gon led the way to Obi-Wan's room, saying "I wait as I will, young
Padawan."

Obi-Wan bowed his head, "Yes, Master." He set the oil down on the bedside
table and knotted the towel more firmly about his waist.

"What are you waiting for?" Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan shrugged and reached out to undo Qui-Gon's tunics. "I just thought
you might like to lay down."

"It would be a very difficult thing to give you a massage if I was lying
down."

Obi-Wan jerked his hands back as if burned.  He shook his head slowly, eyes
going round in consternation.  Qui-Gon would not be swayed.  He put on his
most stern expression and pointed to Obi-Wan's bed.  The younger man knew
that resistance would be pointless.  He drew on his memories of Qui-Gon's
skills as a masseuse, wonderful experiences to the last, and wondered what
had brought all this on.

He stretched out on the bed and relaxed under the careful ministrations of
his master's hands.  When no explanation was forthcoming, he gathered his
courage and whispered "why are you doing this?"

"Because you just saved my life and the lives of countless trillions all
over the galaxy, from what I can tell.  I think having a real live human
being see to your hurts is the least that should be offered to you."
Qui-Gon found a particularly achy place under Obi-Wan's right shoulder and
began using light touches of the Force to relax the knots.

"Please, Master.  There is nothing wrong with me that some deep meditation
and sleep won't fix.  Besides, surely you have better things to be doing." 
Obi-Wan realized that his master was only indulging his student and tried
to rise from the bed.  If Qui-Gon had been wanting something … but no. 
There was none of the fire in his eyes that Obi-Wan had come to associate
with desire.

"I do not.  And neither do you.  Don't make me pull rank just to be nice to
you." There was honest pleading in Qui-Gon's voice that could not be simply
brushed aside.

Obi-Wan settled back down.  With every touch, he thought of all the things
he should be doing.  Despite his master's words, there was much that needed
seeing to.  Their laundry needed to be sent out, he had promised to help in
the Temple library when he came back on planet, something had to be done
about returning the Kho'la'bo.  It was sitting in the corner.  Obi-Wan
hadn't wanted to touch it since the battle.  He'd thought to leave it on
the Gannet, but made himself carry it as far as his rooms, perhaps trying
to prove something to himself.  The fact that it and not his lightsaber had
struck the fatal blow against the Sith had been sitting wrong with him for
hours now, but he hadn't had the time to analyze the feeling.  He needed to
meditate on that as well.  His stomach drew up in knots when he remembered
that he should have told Qui-Gon to call Master Crowe by now. Perhaps he
thought Obi-Wan had touched the Dark Side.  Would he know it if he had?

Qui-Gon stopped his massage suddenly. "You know, you're not even trying to
relax.  Tell you what, let's just get something to eat instead.  You're too
wired up for this to have any effect."

Obi-Wan sighed and got up.  "Let me get some pants on and I'll put
something together for us."

*********************  

Obi-Wan had soon made himself busy in the kitchenette.  The Master just
boosted himself up onto the countertop and watched the flurry of activity.
He wondered if Obi-Wan was aware of the fact that he was quite naturally
using the Force to enhance his every motion.  *Probably not, which is a
good thing, * he decided.  Obi-Wan kept throwing looks his way, then
started cooking even faster, muttering all the while.  It took Qui-Gon a
few moment's concentration to realize his student was chanting 'stupid,
stupid, stupid' as he worked.

It was the opportunity Qui-Gon had been waiting for.  Too bad the timing
was so lousy.  *Why are his revelations always so inopportune?* Now would
be the moment he could see exactly what was going on with his Padawan's
emotions, see what was fueling this debilitating sense of worthlessness
that had taken such strong root in his Koateleu.  Qui-Gon stood and took
the spatula from Obi-Wan. "Go meditate. You're all wound up and I need you
to relax."  He said this as harshly as he could and carefully watched
Obi-Wan's reactions.

An emotion-spike of shock, then anger which was promptly squashed and
replaced by guilt. "AHA!" he crowed, then handed the spatula back to
Obi-Wan.  He hopped back onto the counter and crossed his arms, grinning
broadly.  "Your fishcakes are going to stick."

Obi-Wan reached out through the Force to flip them, refusing to take his
eyes off his master.  "Master, will you please explain that 'AHA'?" 

"Umm, maybe. Yes, I think I will.  Eventually. Mind lunch."  Qui-Gon's grin
broadened and he allowed himself a quiet chuckle.

"I thought I was supposed to be meditating," Obi-Wan pointed out.

"Plenty of time for that later." Qui-Gon went to the caterer and started
flipping through the juice selections.  He was on the verge of relieved
giggles, a thing he doubted Obi-Wan would appreciate.

"Master, please, I don't feel like doing the twenty questions to
enlightenment bit.  Just lay it on me so I can get to the mind-bending
contemplation part while I slice the fruit, okay?"  Obi-Wan's mouth snapped
shut.

Shockangerguilt. Just like that. Qui-Gon sighed in relief, tried to reign
his excitement in.  "I saw it.  I don't believe it, but I see it and you're
going to see it and Kourt will say 'I told you so' and I'll never be more
glad he did.  Fishcakes, Obi-Wan.  I swear.  How can you do the multiple
levitation-Suggestion-movement-balance patterns if you can't cook lunch and
talk at the same time?" Shockangerguilt.  Qui-Gon shook himself mentally. 
He could see that the exchange was taking it's toll on Obi-Wan, so he
waited until lunch was safe in the warm box before he began his
explanation.  Obi-Wan had a solid grip on his emotions by then, sitting
safely at center.  He'd probably decided his master had gone mad and was
waiting for some sort of rescue to arrive.

Qui-Gon settled himself into a kneeling pose and waited for Obi-Wan to take
a lotus position before him.  "Padawan, it has long been my concern that
you are somewhat emotionally…unstable.  Are you aware of the instability
you labor under?"

Obi-Wan traced the pattern of his tattoo with one finger, considering. "For
a long time I thought… I was pretty sure there was no way I was supposed to
be a Padawan.  It seems a little strange, knowing what I know now.  And
really, if I had thought about it, I would have realized I was on par or
ahead of the Trainees I was grouped with.  I never checked my grades much,
didn't compare them with the others, but I know I didn't fail any classes I
took.  My records…I was passing classes and lessons at quite a clip as a
Trainee."

"You continued to do so as a Padawan.  Lessons I was prepared to spend
months and years instructing you on were mastered in weeks.  The more I
showed you, the faster you learned.  I was ready for you to be a quick
study, I knew your background.  Still, it was something of a surprise to
watch you swallowing up my lifetime of experience in a matter of years, I
must say.  Well, maybe not that, I still have SOME things to teach you,"
Qui-Gon grinned.  "But I know you were not aware of what was happening. 
Tell me about your inner feelings."

It was a question Qui-Gon had not often asked his Padawan.  Of all the
Masters Obi-Wan knew, Qui-Gon afforded his student the most privacy.  He
did not constantly call Obi-Wan to account for his feelings unless they
represented some danger to the younger man.  "My feelings… it's hard to
explain.  I know you must think I've been struggling under the weight of
low self-esteem or something, but that's not really true.  I know the name
of my Enemy. It is "Unworthy".  That doesn't define my existence though. 
When I'm working, when I have something I need or want to be doing, you
know I never falter or waver with self doubt."

Qui-Gon nodded his agreement.

"It's only when I'm not doing anything, if I'm alone or bored that I feel
that way.  Sometimes I think about the life I lead and it seems like there
is nothing else in the universe that I could ever want more.  Then there
are times when I think about myself, the things I wish I was and it all
changes around somehow.  I feel like I have so much left to do before I
count.  I'm between worlds, not really Jedi, not really citizen, just a
Padawan, which you have to admit isn't much in the Order.  I…there are
times when I just can't imagine having any value whatsoever, Master."

"And you felt that just now, when I spoke harshly to you, yes?"

"Well, yes.  Yes, I did.  Now, objectively, I would say that there is no
reason for me to have felt that way.  You gave an order and made a couple
of really lousy jokes, but nothing DIRE.  You weren't upset with me, I
could have felt it if you were," Obi-Wan's eyes had been fixed on the
floor, but were starting to dart back and forth.  "I mean, I can usually
tell what you're feeling, even if I'm not trying.  It's just there.  You're
always calm, mind and heart just as still as a frozen pond.  I can't
remember you ever being angry AT me.  In fact, I can't remember you
actually feeling ANGRY." 

Obi-Wan's fingers were tracing his thumbnails, one side, then the other.
"I've felt people get angry.  Politicians, folks on missions, the civilians
around the Temple and so forth.  It seems so…chaotic.  You've never been
like that.  You lose your cool, get sad, maudlin, indignant, like that…but
I've never made you angry.  I never realized that before.  Not even that
'righteous indignation' most Masters get instead of angry." Obi-Wan put one
finger in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.  "And I felt it
again, after I spoke sharply to you.  I felt stupid and worthless for
having been so disrespectful towards you." Obi-Wan stilled his hands once
more and turned an expectant look towards his master.

Qui-Gon smiled, proud of his student's ability to be mindful of his own
feelings. "Correct.  To my knowledge, I have never been angry with you. 
Exasperated and tried beyond all patience, yes, to be sure.  But never
angry.  And yet you responded to my suggestion and jokes as if I had
injured you in some way, purposefully.  Then a moment later you were just
as angry at yourself for something else, then a moment later you were back
to worthless.  Did you happen to pay attention to the pattern your emotions
took?"

Obi-Wan centered himself.  He rested his hands on his knees and touched
finger to thumb, letting time fall away as he calmed his thoughts.  It was
almost reflex at this point in his training to be able to look back on his
actions, study his course of thought and reaction, match them to the
corresponding emotion.

He remembered Qui-Gon's words, the tone and his own shock at being spoken
to that way.  Then anger at Qui-Gon for being so rude, for speaking harshly
when gentleness would have served as well.  There. Right there.  Guilt.  A
swelling in the chest, poisonous, killing the anger in a wash of
self-depreciation for feeling anger, much less wanting tenderness for
himself.  He had used that guilt to stop the craving for affection,
kindness or any number of things he felt he would never, never deserve.
Hard on the heels of that guilt came the hollow call of unworthiness, that
comfortable ache that let him know he had survived whatever pain he had
felt.

Except that there was no pain.