.                      Bonds of Choice #4
                  Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series
                         by HiperBunny
                        (message 5 of 7)
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Swed was more than happy to take in the Temple's resident stray of the
day.  It was, in fact, something of a boon.  Over the years, Obi-Wan had
earned a reputation as a very comfortable guest to have.  He was clean,
quiet, frequently absent and could cook.  His belongings and needs were few
and he came with a capacity to give that frankly astounded most, especially
considering his meager resources.  On one very notable occasion he had
masterminded and implemented a plot to throw the blowout party of the year
for Corubia's 19th nameday.  In just five hours he had collected on every
favor he was owed.  He then immediately indebted everyone to him again by
providing a scene of Padawanian debauchery and indulgence unrivaled by any
social function since.  All this despite the fact that he had not credit
one to his name, no room of his own and the leisure time of your standard
issue overtaxed apprentice.

Qui-Gon had never heard a word about it.  Neither had any other resident of
Temple, as evidenced by the continued good health of all involved.

So when Obi-Wan Kenobi turned the Poor-Pitiful-Me look on Swed, there was
no contest.  A waive in the direction of the sofa, a short flurry to clear
a small bookshelf and Obi-Wan was ready to launch his counterattack on the
Allocations office.  He dialed up the staff on Swed's vid, recognizing
Rigger as the Kat's sharp, dark face flickered into existence; his ears
perfectly centered and forward.  "Allocations main desk."

"Hi there.  Obi-Wan Kenobi.  I just thought I'd let you know that my room
is vacated.  When can I come down to start working on getting a new one?" 
Obi-Wan was perched on the edge of the desk, cross-legged, and leaning back
slowly.  It was a very surreal thing to do to someone on a vidphone.  If
you could keep your balance, you just slowly disappeared from view.

An unreadable look flicked across Rigger's face for a moment before he
composed himself.  "Your new room assignment has already been made.  I'll
transmit it to your location," Rigger informed him with a small smile
before disappearing, to be replaced by readout.

"All right, Kenobi!  The Force is with you for once."  Swed was genuinely
happy for his friend.

"Yeah, for once."  Obi-Wan scanned the document for the pertinent
information, lost his balance and hit the floor hard.  "I don't believe
this."  He was back on his feet and calling for a hardcopy in a flash. 
"Swed, I'll be back.  I have to go see to something."  He snatched up the
printout and went looking for his master and some answers.

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

"Good day, Obi-Wan. I was wondering when you'd be along.  Where are your
things?"  Qui-Gon was just clearing up the dishes from his late lunch.

Obi-Wan stepped in and took over the task, "at Swed's.  He's letting me
crash with him."  A little terse, that, but at least he hadn't shouted.

"Well, no need for that.  I just moved a few things into storage, and the
second room will do nicely for you," Qui-Gon went to sit at his desk in the
sunny alcove beyond the common area.  "That's what it's there for, after
all."

"I know what it's there for."

Qui-Gon gave his Padawan a hard look, resisted the urge to use the Force to
see what was wrong.  Digging the facts from the boy's mind would only be
counterproductive.  "Good.  Then it should come as no surprise to you when
I install my Padawan in the room designated for Padawan installation."

Obi-Wan folded his hands behind his back.  He took a deep breath.  He
reminded himself that he still had a lot to learn in the arts of
diplomacy.  Only then did he allow himself to speak.  "What brought this
on, Master?"

"Lrakin Rilka was telling me about all the warm bodies she had to shelter
and the fact that there just wasn't enough rooms to go around anymore.  I
thought about that.  It's a tough job, dealing with all the needs that must
be met within the confines of the Temple.  Then I figure, 'Oh, you're one
to talk.  You're one of the biggest problems she has.' They've been having
to find boxes and closets to cram my Padawan in for, what, nine years
now?"  Qui-Gon pulled up a file on the dataset.  "Look at all these
applications you send in.  Clothes, food, housing, all of these things are
in my allocation, you know.  I'd be more than happy to help you with all
that.  Having your allotment put on card access must be incredibly time
consuming."

Obi-Wan reminded himself about the diplomacy thing again.  "Yes, Master."

"Yes Master what?"

Yes, Master it is incredibly time consuming.  That is why I do it on my own
time.  Do you suppose you'd have time free to help me go down and replace
my boots?  These are done for."

Qui-Gon glanced down at the date, mentally shuffled through his schedule
and offered "Thursday, after lunch?"

"Um, sorry, they'll be here tomorrow.  I put in the request when we got
back from freeing slaves again.  Besides, Lrakin Rilka has changed the
system now.  I'll not need your help with these things in the future."

"You're being very difficult.  I most heartily do not approve."  Qui-Gon
stood and went to the window.  "These are all things that you could have
brought to me, Obi-Wan.  You come to me so readily for learning.  Why don't
you want my help in living?"  His tone was very slightly hurt.

Obi-Wan double-checked his shielding before mentally screaming *BECAUSE
YOU'VE NEVER GIVEN A DAMN ABOUT HOW I LIVE!*  He clamped down on that rage,
calmed his mind, calmed himself.  Breathing.  Breathing is good.  "I don't
know, Master."  Tone even, properly deferential. 

"Well, think about it while you go get your things.  You are moving into
your quarters.  Now.  This is not a suggestion."

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

Swed said not a word when Obi-Wan came to collect his things.  He just gave
a wave of encouragement and turned back to his studies.  When he walked
into Corubia's quarters, he handed her the reassignment slip, went to get
Dauhge and came back for the damnable document.  She read over it a second
time, then let out a low whistle.  "Took him long enough."

"This isn't funny, Cor.  I can take care of myself."  Obi-Wan retrieved his
paper.

"And so could Oruban before she got moved in with Melik," Corubia pointed
out.

"Yeah, but Rilka MADE Melik do it.  Look, it says on the assignment slip
'At request of the Master'.  I doubt Oruban's did." Obi-Wan asked.

"Actually, it said 'By order of Lrakin Jackee Rilka'.  Apparently Rilka
made the change, then badgered and threatened until it was carried out.  I
helped Oruban move, and she was griping about Rilka in six different
languages.  You're just being stubborn at this point.  You didn't ask to
stay with Qui-Gon because it was too petty.  Okay, thin, but acceptable. 
He never offered because you always kept the situation quiet.  Fine, you
knew it wouldn't last forever.  Nine years is a good, long time to pull the
wool over a Master's eyes.  He's been in those quarters for how long now? 
It was going to come up sooner or later.  You've finally been invited, so
accept.  It's not like you have a real choice in the matter.  It's your
quarters, too, now.  You have the paperwork to prove it.  No big deal.  No
hassle, no stress and you can stop eating out of the common room caterer. 
No more life on a credits card.  Do you know how silly that looks?" 
Corubia asked.

"What looks silly?"

"You, running around like you do, Padawan braid flapping for all the world
to see but living like you don't have a friend to lean on.  What you're
doing here is what the Knights curse loud and long about.  You'll have
plenty of time to develop your lone-man lifestyle after you take the
Trials.  That's at least three years from now.  Shouldn't you be enjoying
what time you have, knowing somebody is looking out for you?"  Corubia took
his face in her hands.  "They're the only family we get."

"What is it about women and this whole family thing?" he laughed.

"What?"

"La'Karata Nurian said almost the same thing to me, not a month ago. 
'Qui-Gon may be the only family you have.'  I know better than to ask for
what I won't get."  The bitterness in his voice was ugly, sickening.  "Why,
under any sky you name, would Qui-Gon treat me like I'm family?  And what
would I know about having a family anyway?  I'm nobody.  When the time it
takes to look out for me starts outweighing the work I can do, he'll hate
me.  He'll resent being burdened with me and then there won't be anyone in
the galaxy I can even pretend holds me in their heart."  The sob caught him
by surprise.  Breathe.  "I have to go."

The door slid shut.  Corubia lifted the comm link out of her robes.  "Did
you get that?"

"Loud and clear.  Thank you, my dear girl."

"My pleasure, Master Qui-Gon.  Anything for that boy.  Skies above know,
he's worth it."

"Now we just have to get him to think so," Qui-Gon chuckled.

"See, now, that's your job, Master.  I'm just a lowly little Padawan here."

***********

Obi-Wan thumbed the suite door open and stalked into his new room.  It was
clean.  It was carpeted.  There was a window.  Heaven.  It had Dauhge's
tank burbling on the shelf next to the desk.  A note was attached to it,
saying "Welcome home".  Obi-Wan recognized Corubia's handwriting.  *I'm
going to kill her.*

He dropped his pack next to the dresser and started putting things away. 
Each article placed was like a coal on his pyre.  He took his box of
not-all-that-valuables to the shelves that ran floor-to-ceiling in several
rows and columns behind the desk.  Oh boy, this was going to be sad.

He put his Feathers of Heaven box on a topmost shelf, out of harm's way.

He set a holo projector base at eye level.

He put the pale green cluster of crystals that Qui-Gon had given him on his
eighteenth birthday on a shelf towards the middle, where it would catch
sunlight.  They warmed up quickly and began the soothing hum and ring for
which they were so prized.  This was his only true 'valuable'.

He put Dauhge in his tank and fed him.

He took his toiletry bag into the bathroom.  Toothbrush in holder, shaving
kit in cabinet, sundries in sundry places.  Back to the bedroom.

Boots off, beside bed.  Lightslate on desk, lightsaber on bedside table. 
That was it.

"I told you to bring your things here and move in."  Qui-Gon was standing
in the doorway.

Obi-Wan kept his back to him.  "I did."

Qui-Gon made a slow circuit of the room.  He paused to tap on Dauhge's
tank.  He smiled at the crystal.  He opened each drawer of the dresser to
check the contents.  He turned to face his Padawan.  Obi-Wan briefly
considered turning his back on his master.  He settled on staring at the
floor.

"Didn't you used to have some kind of gravity maze?"  Qui-Gon asked,
referring to a physics puzzle Obi-Wan had been fascinated with some months
before.

"Traded it."

"For ..."

"Jenji does really good work, but she never works for free.  So I ..."  It
was too humiliating to try to explain.  He went to the bookshelf and
switched on the holoprojector.  Qui-Gon came to look at it.  It seemed to
be an image of the Spiral Stone garden on a moonlit night.  A miniature
Obi-Wan was making his way up the spire in perfect form.

Flick.

A sunny path in a garden, Corubia sitting beside it with a lap full of
blossoms.  She slowly looked up, smiled and waved at the viewer.

Flick.

A swirling blue background, Obi-Wan standing, hands on hips, an exasperated
look on his face.  He looked frustrated, lonely, tired and very young.  He
looked just like he'd done three all-nighters and was headed for a fourth. 
A figure came in from the background and wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan's
waist.  They hugged, both facing the viewer.  The weariness faded from
Obi-Wan's features and gave way to a contented smile.  Qui-Gon was
transfixed by the image of himself hugging his Padawan.

"When was that?" he asked softly.

"During the final round of the obstacle competition a few months ago.  You
remember there was all that aerial stuff I was having a hard time with? 
Well, Jenji was watching me trying to work it out and caught that.  I had
to have it.  I just ... had to."  Obi-Wan switched the holo off.  "She does
really good work, so I traded her my puzzle for it.  She added the other
two for my nameday."

"This is everything?  All that you have?"

"Yes, Master.  Everything in the world that I care about is in this room."

Qui-Gon didn't miss the implication.  "I think it's time we discussed the
nature of our relationship."

"Yes, Master."

"I have to see Master Gallia this evening, but tomorrow morning we WILL
have this conversation."

"Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon left for his appointment.  Obi-Wan took a deep cleansing breath and
fell back flat onto the floor.  The ceiling was done in a pattern of pale
swirls.  *He's gonna kill me about that holo.  One night left to live. 
That's plenty of time.  What to do?  What to do?*

Moments later he was out the door and headed for the Common Room.

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

The Common Room was halfway between the dining hall and the training
center.  It was the hub of social interaction for the lower levels of the
Jedi hierarchy, mainly dominated by the Padawans currently in the Temple. 
Obi-Wan didn't make it down much, so his entrance brought a round of
greetings and offers of refreshments.  He sat down at one of the many
tables and was soon involved in a discussion of a question someone's master
had posed.

"What IS the nature of evil?  Is it an inherent part of the sentient soul? 
Is it a fiction created by society to explain the actions of those unable
to accept the mores of that society?  What defines an action as good or
evil?"  This was from Swed.  He had the grace to not ask Obi-Wan how things
had gone with Qui-Gon. 

"I think it's part of the circle created by all life," Obi-Wan offered.  "A
principal part in the duality of nature.  Without it, there could be no
good.  There would be no basis of comparison."

The conversation went more eclectic from there, drifting to murderers,
philanthropists, and the concept of the Sith.  Obi-Wan found himself most
often arguing for the same points as Juka Mora, a young humanoid he knew
only a little.  Juka had a creamy white complexion, with pale pastel swirls
and spots.  His body was well toned, slender and inviting.  Over the course
of the evening, Obi-Wan had gathered that Juka was inclined to invite him
for more private entertainment.  It also became clear that Juka had a room
of his own.

Obi-Wan went to fetch a round for his table.  When he returned, everyone
got quiet so quickly that it was obvious they had been talking about him. 
"What?" he smiled.

"Oh, Swed was just saying he thought Qui-Gon might have a little
competition," Juka smiled.

"Really?  From who?  What's going on?"  Obi-Wan doled out the drinks and
took his seat again.  His face was carefully neutral.

"From Juka.  Obviously."  Jinji grinned from the other side of the table.

"For what?"  Obi-Wan let the question hang in the air just long enough. 
"For ME?  Ha!  As if I even register on Qui-Gon's radar!"

"So the crush goes on unrequited?"  Juka teased.

"Well, it's not love undying, right Swed?"  Obi-Wan winked at his friend. 
It wasn't lying.  Not really.

"Right, Kenobi.  Well, I guess I'm gonna be turning in."

Others voiced the same feeling and the party began to break up.  Kenobi was
not the only one to leave the room in company.


Later that evening, Obi-Wan tucked the covers around himself and his
friend, snuggled down and smiled.  *Problem solved.  Qui-Gon will never
need worry about sheltering me.  I WILL take care of myself, whatever it
takes.*

Somewhere higher up and to the south, Qui-Gon tossed in his sleep.

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

Obi-Wan awoke to the sound of a calm, insistent chirping from the direction
of his clothes.  He opened one eye, fixed on his comm link and retrieved it
using the Force.  *That's so handy ...*  "Kenobi."

"Padawan, I believe we were meant to have a conversation this morning." 
Qui-Gon sounded very ... odd.

Panicked, Obi-Wan looked around for a clock, then reached over and grabbed
Juka's wrist.  The report from the chronometer was not good news.  "I'm
sorry, Master.  We forgot to set the crono."

"Who are you talking to, Obi-Wan?"  Juka woke up to retrieve his wrist.

"It's Master Jinn.  I have to go.  I'm really sorry."  Obi-Wan was hopping
into his boots.  "Master, I'll be right there."  He tugged his robes on in
record time and was ready to go.

"Are you in trouble, Obi-Wan?"

"Probably."

"What does he want to talk to you about?"  Juka was crawling out of bed at
this point.

"The nature of our relationship.  I think I'm probably dead."  Obi-Wan
turned to face his bedmate.  "I don't want you to think I stayed here just
to hide from him."

"I don't care why you stayed.  You wanted a place, I provided."  Juka
grinned lopsidedly.  "It's not like anything happened."

"Yeah, well ... wish me luck."