Disclaimer: All belongs to the great and powerful Mouse.

Summary: Even for a Jedi there is a price for perfection.

A/N: This is a JA timeframe story. The story starts with a 15 year old Obi-Wan and continues into his early twenties. Though this is AU, there are some spoilers for events in the Judith Watson Jedi Apprentice series. This story is darker than my usual tales. Be advised.

Please R&R!

~Perfect~

Prologue

Most people would think it started at Bandomeer. Most people would be wrong. The reasons went further back than that fateful trip. They went back before Bruck, as far back as his tenth nameday, but he didn't start building until Melida/Daan. It wasn't until after Cerasi died, after the Jedi returned to the tiny war-torn planet, after his master, Qui-Gon Jinn, accepted him back, that the box came to be. On that day he renewed his vows of loyalty and obedience to his master and he made a promise to himself. He promised he would never give Qui-Gon Jinn a reason to doubt him again. Never. He knew he was getting yet another chance at becoming a knight. A chance he did not deserve, but he would make himself deserving. He would become worthy. He would turn his master's pity into pride he only needed time. He would do whatever it took, whatever was asked of him both without question and without fail. He owed this man, this master of the Order and the Force that much. So, he would take his feelings and his failures and tuck them away, place them into the box, out of sight so that he could be what he needed to be. He would allow his master to craft him into a proper Jedi and, in return, he would give him the padawan he deserved.

A perfect padawan.

Part I – The Dance of Sincerity

"Again."

Obi-Wan's muscles trembled as he stepped back into position eleven of the kata. He took a deep breath and began the moves demanded by this stage of the routine, each position more strenuous than the last. Requiring a high degree of both strength and flexibility The Dance of Sincerity was usually only taught to senior padawans, but his master believed he was ready and Obi-Wan was determined not to disappoint him.

He had just stepped forward into a deep lunge for move sixteen when his master's rumbling baritone stilled his movements.

"Hold!" Qui-Gon said as he walked slowly around Obi-Wan's frozen figure. The stance was deep and low and Obi-Wan's thighs were aching horribly, but he gathered the Force around him and held himself steady refusing to allowing the trembling in his legs that his body seemed intent on producing. Qui-Gon stood before him and folded his hands into the large sleeves of his cloak.

"You've overextended yourself leaving an opening in your defense and," he said with a gentle push to Obi-Wan's left shoulder that sent him tumbling down gracelessly to the mat. "And you are off balance- an easily exploitable weakness in combat."

Obi-Wan rose from the mat stiffly and assumed the eleventh position again. His master opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it without offering anything further. He stepped back away from the mat, a clear gesture for his apprentice to continue with the exercise. Obi-Wan began again moving slowly through the next five moves only to be stopped again at the sixteenth stance.

"Enough," Qui-Gon ordered with a wave of his hand. "We will continue this tomorrow."

"Master, I can do this."

"Of course you can and you will, Padawan, but you are exhausted. Little more can be accomplished in such a state. You will be better served by rest and with a return to this tomorrow," his master intoned. Obi-Wan remained frozen in his lunge, but his eyes were on his master's when he spoke.

"I'm not that tired. I can go awhile longer. I can go until I get it."

"Obi-Wan,"

"I can, Master."

"Enough!" Qui-Gon nearly yelled causing Obi-Wan to flinch involuntarily. Resigned to his master's will, he lifted himself from his stance, his muscles screaming the entire way. He deactivated his lightsaber and replaced it to his position on the left side of his belt. He then put his hands by his sides and dropped his chin to his chest.

"I'm sorry, Master," he offered in soft, respectful tones. Qui-Gon sighed and placed a heavy hand on the youth's shoulder.

"It is one thing to push your limits, Padawan, but it's an entirely different matter to ignore them completely. You are exhausted," he said. When Obi-Wan looked up at him wanting to object, his master held up a silencing hand. "You are, Obi-Wan. You only waste energy and effort to deny it. Do you have any assignments that must be completed tonight?"

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed as he mentally catalogued all of his work from his myriad of classes and research projects. In every class he was ahead of the timetable set for the various turn-ins, but he was hoping to get in some extra work on his hyperspace calculations as mathematics wasn't really his strong suit and it would not do for the padawan of Master Qui-Gon Jinn to be less than perfect in any of his classes.

"Nothing that must be, no, but I was hoping to get more practice with,"

"No," his master interrupted. "Not tonight. Tonight, after latemeal, I want you to relax. Enjoy time with your friends, swim in the lake, crash on the couch with a cheap holovid, but whatever you do, relax."

For a moment the expression on Obi-Wan's face looked like one of horror, but before his master could comment on it, it disappeared replaced by his student's usual mask of serenity.

"Yes, Master," he answered with a short bow. Qui-Gon eyed his apprentice for several moments before sighing and patting him on the shoulder.

"Go get cleaned up. I will meet you in our quarters shortly."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan repeated. He then picked up his towel and his pack holding his change of clothes and headed off to the showers the shadow of his failure following closely behind.

As he peeled off his sweat heavy workout clothes, Obi-Wan could feel what was certainly his master's disappointment settle on his skin like a layer of sludge; blocking off his pores and choking his body. Qui-Gon had put his faith in him, his belief that he was capable of learning this advance kata and Obi-Wan had rewarded that faith with incompetence, with ineptitude, with his ever constant unworthiness. He sighed as he stepped under the showers cool spray and allowed the water to pound his aching and strained muscles. He took several deep breaths under the falling waters. He pulled together every piece of disappointment, every bite of shame, every fragment of failure and rolled it together, tucking each into itself before placing it into the box with its kin—the growing mass of failures from his time as an initiate through his last two plus years with Qui-Gon. He pushed these new emotions down into the box and sealed it before checking the strong barriers he had placed around it so no one else might accidently discover the vast majesty of reasons he should never have been given another chance to be a Jedi. No. As long as they didn't know he had time to prove himself.

Now physically and emotionally clean, Obi-Wan stepped out of the showers and quickly dressed. He hurried down the halls as fast as Jedi decorum would allow in a rush to get to his quarters to prepare a fitting meal for his master. It was a padawan's duty to do such things and, though Qui-Gon had never insisted upon it, Obi-Wan had. A perfect padawan would do no less.

It didn't take long before Obi-Wan had pieced together a respectable dinner for his master. Some grilled Gargthenian guinea fowl and sautéed vegetables with a suitably old Alderaanian wine were waiting for him when Qui-Gon stepped into their suite. He nodded in greeting to his apprentice as Obi-Wan pulled out a chair for him to sit.

"This was unnecessary, Padawan. I thought I told you tonight was for your rest. We could have easily ordered something from the refectory," his master said even as he took his seat. Obi-Wan reached over and began to poor his master some wine.

"You told me I was to relax after latemeal," he replied quite seriously despite his master's previous tone. "Besides, Master, it is my duty as your padawan to attend these small needs for you in gratitude for my training. I will not fail in my responsibility," he finished as he scooped sizeable portions onto his master's plate. He laid the plate before him and gave him a slight bow before returning to his own seat to prepare himself a plate. Qui-Gon stared at his apprentice wanting desperately to say something to lift the heaviness that always seemed to surround the boy, but he hadn't the words and he knew a direct argument on the matter of traditional padawan duties was a lost cause. Obi-Wan had decided this was something he was going to do for his master and there was little Qui-Gon could do or say against it short of ordering the teen to stop. Instead, the master settled for a mental sigh even as he gifted his apprentice with a pleasant and thankful smile and began to eat his food.

The pair enjoyed their meal in comfortable silence and it was not long before Obi-Wan was standing to collect their plates and prepare them for the sanitizer. It was only after he had cleaned up from their meal and was turning to leave the kitchen and enter the common room that Qui-Gon blocked his path with his over large and intimidating frame.

"What are your plans, Padawan?"

"I was going to see if an acquaintance of mine was available to spend some time with me, Master," he answered carefully. If his master suspected anything more to his words, he didn't voice it. Instead the tall man stepped aside allowing him to pass into the common area unimpeded. Obi-Wan paused briefly by the main door to grab his cloak as he heard his master call out behind him.

"Do not concern yourself with your curfew tonight, Obi-Wan. Enjoy yourself," his master said as he arranged his long body comfortably on the couch before activating the data reader in his hand.

"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan replied then he quickly ducked out of their quarters before he had to answer other questions. He had never lied to his master. Not once and he had no plans to start now. Padawans owed nothing less than complete honesty to their masters. It was part of their vow and, in truth, Obi-Wan had not lied at all about his plans for the night, but he knew he was skirting a very dangerous line and he had no wish to cross it. Better to leave quickly and avoid his master's interrogatories altogether.

His feet carried him absently through the vast and winding corridors of the Temple. Though most of the Temple's residents would still be up, and its more nocturnal species beginning to rise, the halls were fairly empty as most Jedi had returned to their quarters or the quarters of others for solitude or socializing respectively. For this, Obi-Wan was grateful as he made it to his destination unobserved by curious onlookers. The apprentice stopped outside the door to a specific apartment, hesitating for only a moment before activating the door chime. After only a few seconds the door slid open revealing the figure of the Korun master who was also the Head of the Jedi Order.

"Padawan Kenobi."

"Master Windu," Obi-Wan said with a deep bow. Mace cocked his head to the side and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What can I do for you, Padawan?" the master asked, his tone not welcoming or dismissive, merely inquisitive. For a moment, Obi-Wan contemplated that perhaps this course of action was a mistake, but then he felt the pull of today's failure tugging at him. He took a moment and placed that feeling in his box before answering the Councilor standing before him.

"I've come to ask a favor of you, Master," he replied. Mace said nothing only stepped to one side and gestured for Obi-Wan to enter his quarters. Windu had a master's quarters just like his own master's, but Windu's common room was more sparsely decorated. Only a scant few items graced the shelves around the room and the furniture spoke more of utilitarian purposes than comfort. Still, Obi-Wan tried to at least look comfortable as he sat down on the edge of the couch. Windu took a seat across from him in one of two arm chairs, his pose much like the one he adopts during Council sessions; his fingers steeped in front of his chin.

"What do you need, Obi-Wan?" the Councilor asked. Obi-Wan took a deep breath. He had come this far there was no point in backing out now.

"I've been working on The Dance of Sincerity kata, but I'm having trouble with the middle section. I was hoping you would be willing to help me with it," he answered. A frown crossed Mace's features and he was silent for several moments before once again addressing the teen seated quietly on his couch.

"I would think such a difficulty would be brought to your master," the Councilor replied evenly. Obi-Wan nodded then offered a wry smile.

"Oh, believe me, he knows of my difficulty. That's why I came to you, Master Windu. I was hoping, with your help, I could finally complete this kata and surprise my master with it," he responded hopefully, but Mace still seemed hesitant.

"The twelfth kata is a very difficult one to master and is usually not taught to junior padawans, Obi-Wan. It may be better not to rush this."

"I know, Master Windu, I do, but Master Qui-Gon... He chose this for me because he believes I can do it now. I don't want to disappoint him."

"I doubt you could, Obi-Wan. Since your probation you have been an exemplary padawan. If this kata takes a bit longer to learn no one would think any less of you including Qui-Gon."

"Please, Master Windu," Obi-Wan begged when he saw his other entreaties failing. "This is important to me."

Mace clenched his jaw and sat in silence seemingly debating his course of action in his head. It was several uncomfortable minutes before he spoke again. He placed both his hands on the armrests of his seat and regarded Obi-Wan carefully.

"Very well, Obi-Wan. I will assist you. When did you have in mind?" he asked then sighed when Obi-Wan's sheepish expression told him everything he needed to know. "Perhaps Qui-Gon should have you meditate on the value of patience instead of working on advanced katas," he said dryly as he rose from his seat. Obi-Wan stood to join him.

"Thank you, Master Windu."

"Don't thank me yet," Mace answered with a small smirk. "You'll find that I'm even a more exacting instructor than your master."

"Then you are precisely what I need, Master Windu. I want this kata to be perfect."

Mace Windu apparently wasn't one to exaggerate. If Obi-Wan had thought training under Qui-Gon's meticulous scrutiny was bad, practicing under Windu was simply an exercise in masochism, but the torture paid off. By the time they finished it was just after final hour, but he had finally mastered the middle of the kata and could now perform the entire routine with a graceful ease. After thanking Master Windu and bidding him a goodnight, Obi-Wan settled into one of the Temple's empty gardens obstensibly to meditate, but really to let his clothing and his body dry from the sweat he had worked up practicing with Mace. He doubted his master was still awake, but it would not do to walk into their quarters looking like he had done what his master had intimated, though not explicitly prohibited, him from doing.

Once he was satisfactorily dry, Obi-Wan returned to his quarters, palmed the door open, and quietly stepped inside. Immediately, he was grateful of his choice to air out before coming home. His master was indeed awake still, but in meditation on his cushion near the doors to their shared balcony. Obi-Wan was not entirely certain that his presence had been noted until he opened his bedroom door and a familiar baritone cut through the silence of the common room.

"I trust you enjoyed your evening, Padawan?" Qui-Gon said as he rose to his feet, stretching slightly. Obi-Wan turned and bowed to his master.

"Yes, Master. I am very pleased," he said and then he glanced at his bedroom door and back to his master. "And very tired as well," he added. It was a true statement and one that he hoped would forestall any further questions about exactly how he spent his free time. Thankfully, it had the desired effect as his master graced him with a small smile and a nod.

"Rest well, Padawan. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Master."

Obi-Wan was still exhausted when the alarm he set on his desk chrono woke him the next morning. It was less than an hour before dawn and though he himself had never been a natural early riser, his master was. His master always rose with the sun, so Obi-Wan had relegated himself to rising even earlier, always foregoing his own morning ablutions to head straight to the kitchen. After all, firstmeal would not make itself and his master's needs came first. His needs could and would wait until his duty was properly attended.

Over their few years together, Obi-Wan had perfected his morning schedule and timing to the point where he was just pouring tea into his master's favorite cup when the tall man stepped out of his bedroom and into the common area wearing only his sleep pants and an old tunic.

"Morning, Padawan," he spoke as he entered the kitchen and had a steaming mug of his favorite strong, dark tea pressed into his hands by his apprentice.

"Good morning, Master," Obi-Wan replied as he lifted the tray of fruit, cheese, and sweet breads he had prepared. He followed his master out of the kitchenette and to the small meal table at the edge of their common space. His master sat down in his usual chair as Obi-Wan placed the simple platter on the table.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, Master," he answered honestly. He had slept well enough, he just hadn't slept anywhere near long enough. In truth, Obi-Wan could not remember the day when last he had awaken feeling well rested and refreshed, but a little fatigue was a small price to pay when viewed in light of his ultimate goal. Admittedly, at the moment his aching muscles resented his dedication.

Once he had ensured that his master's needs were met, Obi-Wan turned to go back to his own room; the thought of a hot shower calling like a siren's song to his weary body.

"Are you not going to eat, Padawan?" his master asked. Obi-Wan's stomach lurched uncomfortably at the thought. During his session with Master Windu he had fallen awkwardly on his right arm driving his own, thankfully deactivated, saber hilt into his side. Though he had escaped a rather fatal and embarrassing impalement, he had not escaped a particularly large and painful bruise erupting across a greater third of his torso. He should have probably reported to the Healer's Ward, but this was something he knew he should be able to take care of himself. He simply hadn't had the energy to trance down in healing. Besides, the injury was a result of his own clumsiness; a poignant reminder of his not to distant "Oafy-Wan" days as an initiate. No, the fault was his own as were the consequences.

"No, Master. I'm not very hungry at the moment," he answered. Qui-Gon silently studied his apprentice for several moments, his eyes filled with obvious concern.

"Padawan, are you feeling alright? You look a little peaked."

"Yes, Master. I'm fine," he answered. Qui-Gon appeared unconvinced so he added, "Master, I assure you, I am well."

His master's gaze lingered over him appraisingly for several seconds more before he settled back in his chair and resumed his meal.

"Very well," he said finally. Obi-Wan released a quiet breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding as he turned once again to his room only to be stopped once again from advancing toward it.

"But you will eat something," his master stated. Obi-Wan could tell by the tone of his master's voice that this was non-negotiable. Careful not to let his discomfort show, he made his way back to the table and took his seat. His master had already cleared his own plate and now reloaded and passed it on to his less than enthusiastic apprentice.

"Eat," he commanded. Obi-Wan took the offered plate with a nod and set to the mindless task of eating, painfully cognizant of his master's continued scrutiny.

"Obi-Wan."

"Yes, Master," he said pausing between bites. Qui-Gon opened his mouth to say something then promptly closed it again. He continued his quiet assessment of the teen eating mechanically in front of him before finally speaking.

"When is your last morning class?"

"I'll be done with my morning classes by tenth hour, Master."

"Very well. Meet me in salle three at tenth hour. We will continue your work on the twelfth kata."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied as he finished his plate and subtly presented it to his master for approval. Qui-Gon nodded and gave a jerk of his chin, a clear indication that Obi-Wan was now free to leave the table and continue with his morning routine, but the teen didn't leave immediately. Instead he gathered the remnants of their meal, saving what he could, discarding the rest, then cleansed the dishes to be placed in the sanitizer. His kitchen duties complete, he took a moment to refresh his master's tea before disappearing quietly into his room to prepare for the rest of the day.

"You're early," Qui-Gon remarked as he stepped into the private training salle. Obi-Wan didn't think the statement required a response so he didn't give one. Instead he merely nodded at the observation. His master approached the mat where he stood awaiting direction.

"You've already warmed up?"

"Yes, Master."

"Then let's begin. Assume the first position," his master ordered and Obi-Wan moved quickly to obey, sinking solidly into the kata's opening stance and awaiting his instruction to begin. He glided through the first fifteen positions easily then, unlike before, he continued into the next seven moves with a hard won grace, finishing all thirty-two moves flawlessly. When he completed the kata, he turned to his master scarcely able to conceal his nervous expectations. Qui-Gon, for his part, said nothing; his expression as inscrutable as ever.

"Again," his master finally spoke. Obi-Wan preformed the dance again and again until his muscles fairly screamed from the effort. Just as he finished the final move on his fourth repetition he felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see his master's face, a pleased expression resting comfortably on the leonine features.

"Well done, Padawan. I daresay you have exceeded my expectations for today and all it took was a bit of rest."

"Yes, Master," his apprentice readily agreed though there was an impish quality to the boy's smile that he couldn't quite place.

"We still have a bit of time left. How about an open spar?"

"Of course, Master," Obi-Wan answered careful to keep a smile on his face. Normally, he would have loved an opportunity to spar with his master, but he was just so blasted tired and sore already. On top of that he was having trouble catching his breath. He said nothing though, as he watched his master shed his cloak, tabard, robe, and outer tunic. Obi-Wan himself took a few deep breaths mentally pushing away any thoughts of his fatigue or discomfort. A Jedi attended to the moment at hand regardless of ailment or injury and so would he. He fell back into a ready stance and, with a nod from his master, the two Jedi began to dance.

"May I join you?"

"Of course. Have a seat," Mace answered warmly as he made space for his fellow master. Qui-Gon sat down with his tray across from his friend and Councilor who seemed to be regarding him with a curious expression.

"Something on your mind, Mace?" he asked as he took a moment to blow across his soup before ladling a spoonful to his mouth.

"I was just wondering if you had a chance to work with your padawan today," the chestnut skinned Jedi replied. Qui-Gon sat his spoon back in his bowl, one eyebrow quirked in suspicion.

"I have," he answered slowly.

"And?"

"And what?"

"How did it go?"

"It went very well, but I suspect, somehow, you already knew that."

"I didn't know, but I had hoped," Mace responded with the smile he reserved for his close friends; his characteristic scowl more useful for terrorizing wayward initiates, padawans, and the occasional knight.

"Care to enlighten me?" Qui-Gon asked as he leaned back in his seat, his face alight with amused curiosity.

"Obi-Wan expressed he was having difficulty with the new kata you assigned him. He requested a bit of tutoring."

Qui-Gon shook his head, but a small smile still found his lips.

"I should have known. I appreciate your willingness to help, Mace, but it was unnecessary. Obi-Wan is often," here he paused searching for the right word, "over eager to master a new lesson or to get my approval."

"As are most padawans," Mace countered. Qui-Gon gave a curt nod.

"True. I just sometimes wish..." he stopped with a heavy sigh and a rueful grin. "Honestly, I don't know what I wish. I couldn't ask for a better padawan."

"He is a good student," Mace agreed. "And clever too. How I let him talk me in to working with him so late into the night I'll never know. I take it the bruise healed well?"

"Bruise?" Qui-Gon repeated sitting down his cup of tea. Mace's brow immediately furrowed at the question.

"Last night he fell badly on his right. I was certain it would become a nasty bruise so I suggested a trip to the healers would not be out of order. I take it he didn't go?"

"If he had visited the ward I would have been notified," Qui-Gon answered automatically. His brows knitted in consternation as he leaned forward across the narrow table. "You worked with him last night?"

"Yes. Why? Was there some reason I shouldn't have?" Mace inquired. Qui-Gon sighed running a weary hand over his suddenly equally weary features in patent exasperation.

"I had given him the night off in free time. He was supposed to use the time to enjoy himself and relax."

"I guess an intense workout session would hardly qualify."

"Well, under the right circumstances, perhaps," Qui-Gon said with a short lived smile, but all too soon his worried frown returned. "But he was already exhausted before you worked with him. He's running himself into the ground and either he's too naïve or too foolish to realize it."

"Either way, it's a cause for concern, Qui-Gon," Mace replied, his expression serious.

"I know," Qui-Gon agreed as he stood up from the table his tray in hand. "I think it's time I had a little talk with my apprentice."

Qui-Gon was waiting for him the moment he stepped out of his class; his master's tall frame easily discernible among the throng of passing padawans exiting the classroom. His master stood there, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his cloak, his face completely unreadable. Obi-Wan couldn't help but feel a note of trepidation as he approached the intimidating Jedi.

"Obi-Wan."

"Master?"

"Come," his master intoned turning on his heel. Obi-Wan fell into step behind and slightly to the right of him; a padawan's proper place. All during the long walk he wanted to ask his master whether he was in trouble or had otherwise displeased him in some way, but in all the ways that mattered the answers to those unspoken questions were as obvious as they were disheartening. His master was indeed displeased with him, but Obi-Wan was left to guess as to why. There were so many things he felt within him that would disappoint his master that he had no idea as to which one of his myriad flaws had finally been discovered. When Qui-Gon led him to the Healer's Ward his confusion only deepened, but still he dared not speak until his master directed him to do so, which his master never did not even when he brought him to a small examination room and silently pointed to the empty medical couch. Obi-Wan walked over to the bed hesitantly a questioning look dominating his features despite his attempt otherwise. Finally, he found he could wait no longer.

"Master, why are we here?" he asked softly. Qui-Gon gazed at him from behind that emotionless Jedi mask.

"You do not know?" he replied coolly. Obi-Wan shook his head and, faster than thought, Qui-Gon stepped to his side and none too gently pressed into his bruised and battered torso drawing an involuntary hiss of pain from his apprentice. Qui-Gon stepped back from his apprentice once more, the same flat expression on his face. Obi-Wan swallowed thickly as he tried to regain his composure through the still throbbing pain in his side.

"Master, I can explain," he started, but Qui-Gon held up his hand and Obi-Wan immediately fell into obedient silence. After several strained and quiet minutes the ward's chief healer entered the room.

"Master Jinn. Padawan Kenobi," the Mirialan healer greeted warmly as he acknowledge the other Jedi. However, a momentary glance at both members of the pair informed the master healer that there was more injury in this room than whatever had been brought before him to heal.

"Ah, so... what has brought us here today?" the healer asked glancing from master to apprentice and back again. Qui-Gon tightened his jaw and sent a piercing glare at his padawan who received the message loud and clear. Slowly the young Jedi peeled away his cloak, robe, and tunics giving the healer an unfettered view of his spectacular bruising.

"My that is bad," the Mirialan muttered as he lightly drew his fingers across the discolored skin. His hands paused on a particularly dark patch of discoloration roughly in the shape of a circle just shy of the padawan's floating ribs. "How did this occur?"

"Training accident," Obi-Wan murmured. The healer glanced at the boy incredulously then returned to his visual inspection.

"Training accident seems to be quite the understatement, Padawan. This looks to me like the impression of a saber hilt."

"I-I...," Obi-Wan started, "fell on my saber arm."

Qui-Gon's eyes widened then narrowed as he digested this bit of information. Not even Mace had told him the specifics of his padawan's injury. The master healer clicked his tongue under his breath at the boy's confirmation of his theory.

"Well, thank the Force the blade was deactivated, hmm? Or your master would be short one padawan," he said then paused and closed his eyes examining the injury now with the Force. He opened his eyes only a moment or two later.

"Hmm," the healer mused to himself. He then looked to the padawan. "Let me guess, more tired than usual, unexplained shortness of breath, maybe even some dizziness or weakness?" he asked. Obi-Wan dared a glance to his master before answering the healer's inquiry with a sheepish nod.

"Thought so. In addition to the obvious contusions you have a cracked rib and you managed to perforate your spleen. The symptoms I mentioned are the result of a slow bleed in your abdomen," the healer stated then he directed his gaze to the boy's master. "Master Jinn, you should really have brought your padawan to us sooner. Because it is a slow bleed the delay isn't that bad, but it easily could have been."

"I understand, Master Songe. It will not happen again," Qui-Gon answered calmly. Obi-Wan's eyes widened almost comically.

"No! This wasn't my Master's fault. I," he started frantically, but his master cut him off.

"Silence, Padawan," he interrupted the authoritative weight of his voice catching Obi-Wan almost as if he had been physically struck. Qui-Gon turned his attention back to Songe who had remained quiet during the brief exchange.

"Bacta?" Qui-Gon asked. The healer shook his head, a thoughtful look on his face.

"No, I don't think a dip in the tank is necessary, but I recommend only light exercises for the next three to five days while this fully heals, otherwise any work I do now will be for naught."

"He will abide your instruction, Master Songe," Qui-Gon intoned. The tone of his voice sending an unwanted chill down Obi-Wan's spine. His master noted the reaction, but his expression softened little. "Proceed."

The trip back to their quarters was a quiet one. Neither master nor apprentice had spoken since Qui-Gon gave consent for his padawan to receive treatment for his injuries. Once Master Songe had finished healing Obi-Wan's ribs and torso, the pair had quietly exited the healing halls without another ward; master stoically leading the way while his padawan followed diffidently behind. When they finally reached their apartment, Qui-Gon stepped inside removing his cloak and immediately settled into his armchair. Obi-Wan stood motionless for several seconds just inside the door waiting for his master to speak. When he didn't, Obi-Wan decided that it was time for him to act and perhaps salvage something of this wreck of their relationship.

Obi-Wan stood directly in front of his seated master. When Qui-Gon lifted his eyes to meet his apprentice's gaze, the boy immediately dropped to his knees, his head pressed to the floor in an expression of formal contrition.

"Master," Obi-Wan began, his voice slightly muffled by his position. "Please forgive me. I have disobeyed you, hidden things from you, and broken your trust. I have acted in a manner unbefitting both as your padawan and a Jedi. I have dishonored you and your teachings. I humbly beg for your forgiveness and I willingly submit myself to any punishment or censure you see fit," he finished without raising his head. Above him, Obi-Wan could hear the sound of his master's breathing, but nothing else. For many minutes, neither Jedi moved then finally Qui-Gon scrubbed his face and beard and released an exasperated sigh.

"Get up, Obi-Wan. Get up and go sit on the couch. We need to talk," his master stated evenly. When the boy made no motion to follow his instruction he began again this time more firmly. "I have no desire to speak with the top of your head. If you require my forgiveness before you will obey my instruction then fine, you have it. I forgive you, Obi-Wan. Now, get up and take a seat on the couch."

Obi-Wan slowly pulled himself off of the floor. It wasn't exactly the acceptance he had hoped for when he offered his master the formal apology, but as it was he was probably just one wrong step away from being repudiated entirely so who was he to complain. He stood up silently and made his way to the couch, taking a seat near his master, but not so close as to be within reaching distance. He kept his gaze down and focused on his boots. It was easier than facing whatever it was that his master felt towards him and seeing that feeling reflected in those midnight blue eyes.

"Obi-Wan, you have lied to me," Qui-Gon began pausing when Obi-Wan lifted his head as if to object. He continued without letting the boy speak. "You have lied to me if not directly that certainly in spirit," the master amended. The boy once again dropped his head unable or unwilling to argue.

"Either circumstance concerns me deeply. I am very disappointed with you, Obi-Wan."

And there it was. His master was disappointed in him. Well, of course he was. He had lied to the man despite the rationalizations he had told himself to ease his conscience. He had lied and concealed things, he had acted in direct contradiction to his master's express wishes for him, and, worse yet, he involved another master, a Councilor, in his wrong doing.

"I want you to do something for me, Obi-Wan, and in this you must obey me. I will ask you questions. You will answer them, honestly. No lies, no evasion, no clever word play or double meanings. Failure to do so will carry grave consequences. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," the boy replied his attention still focused on the floor. Qui-Gon felt a stir of irritation at the teen's avoidance of eye contact, but decided that was a battle he did not want to wage at this point.

"How do you feel?" he asked. Obi-Wan's brow immediately wrinkled. This was not the type of question he had expected his master to lead with. He bit at his bottom lip for a moment knowing that he made his master a promise to answer honestly and simply, but finding it hard to do so.

"Ashamed. Guilty."

"And physically?"

"I-I... My side still hurts, though not as bad as before. I'm... still... sore pretty much everywhere and... I'm tired."

"Have you been sleeping well?"

"Yes, Master, but I usually don't sleep very long. I-I... sometimes work on getting ahead in my courses after... after you think I'm sleeping."

"You actively deceive me," his master spoke coolly. Obi-Wan lifted his head and turned to his master to argue despite the cold gaze he met in those blue eyes.

"No, Master."

"You led me to believe you were sleeping when you were not. You did this on purpose and on more than one occasion," he replied, his logic infallible. Obi-Wan visibly deflated; his weak self-rationalizations falling short in the face of unadulterated reality.

"Yes, Master," he conceded. His master merely nodded.

"Master Windu told me that you finished your work with him shortly after final hour, yet you did not return until sometime much later. Where were you?"

"I-I was in the Temple gardens."

"Why?"

"I was waiting to dry off so you wouldn't... you wouldn't know what I had been doing."

"Another active deception."

"Yes, Master."

"Have you approached other masters for instruction?"

"No, Master. Only this once. Only Master Windu."

"You hid your injury from me. Why?"

"I...," Obi-Wan faltered. He took a deep breath and began again. He could do this. "I didn't want to worry you or disappoint you because of my clumsiness," he answered. Hearing the boy's answer made Qui-Gon's frustration rear its head again, but outwardly the master remained as distant and expressionless as ever.

"Have there been other injuries you have hidden from me?"

"Just one. I twisted my ankle on Garin IV, but I didn't tell you. I just used my spare sash to tie it up so you wouldn't see me limp," the boy answered softly. So far, every answer was proving to be a stab in the master's chest. There was so much that he had missed, so much that the boy had deliberately hidden from him. His mind kept drifting to another apprentice who had hidden things from him... No. This was different. Obi-Wan was not Xanatos. Where Xanatos concealed to manipulate, Obi-Wan concealed out of insecurity. He would have to remember that. This child wasn't dark, just terribly uncertain.

"Bring me your class schedule," Qui-Gon intoned. His apprentice looked at him, his expression quizzical, but the master was in no mood to explain or equivocate. "Now," he added and the boy jumped to his feet to retrieve the appropriate data reader. He handed it to his master and resumed his silence on the couch. Qui-Gon scrolled through the boy's class list and repressed another sigh.

"Obi-Wan, this would be a heavy load for a senior padawan not on active mission status," he said shaking his head. "You will drop four of these classes immediately."

"But that's more than half!" Obi-Wan yelled, but a sudden glare from his master quelled any further outbursts or protests.

"You may choose which ones to drop or I will. Are you currently engaged in any additional projects?"

"Yes, Master."

"How many?" Qui-Gon questioned, almost afraid to ask.

"Five," Obi-Wan answered and the master muttered something under his breath that, to the boy's ears, sounded distinctly like a particularly vile Huttese curse.

"You will drop all but one. Choose which you will keep and inform the appropriate masters of the rest," the master said as he handed the boy the reader. Obi-Wan took it silently, but sullenly.

"Also, we shall reduce your training time by half and I shall request that we be taken off active status for the next two tendays.

"But, Master!" Obi-Wan yelled jumping to his feet. "The Jedi need you! The Republic needs you! You can't stop taking missions because of me!" he cried as he fell once more into a formal penitent's bow. Qui-Gon slid out of his chair and grasped the boy's shoulder's pulling him up and placing him back on the couch. He knelt in front of his student, but Obi-Wan stubbornly refused to meet his gaze.

"Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, look at me," the master requested his voice warmer than it had been all afternoon. Slowly, hesitantly, blue-gray eyes rose to meet his dark blues. "This is only a temporary break for both of us, Obi-Wan. There are other Jedi who can serve in our absence."

"No other Jedi can replace you, Master," the boy resolutely argued. Despite his frustration, Qui-Gon couldn't help but smile in the face of such blatant and innocent hero worship.

"I'm flattered you think so, but I'm afraid that's far from true my very biased apprentice," he said as he cupped the boy's chin in one of his large hands to guarantee he kept the boy's attention. "I have failed you, Obi-Wan," he started, but the boy began to shake his head in defiance.

"Never, Master."

"Yes, Padawan, I have. I have been inattentive to your needs and granted you more freedom than you were prepared for. I am not angry with you," he said and when the boy attempted to pull away he gently guided his focus back to his master's face. "I am not, but this dishonesty must stop, Obi-Wan. You must be honest with me in all things even if you fear disappointing me. Will you do this?"

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied his voice scarcely above a whisper. Qui-Gon took his hand from the teen's chin and instead gave the slender shoulder before him a reassuring squeeze.

"Go. We will talk more on this after latemeal. For now, I want you to take a nap. No arguments. Go," he said and Obi-Wan did exactly that. He raised from the couch without another word and journeyed to his room closing the door behind and settling down on his narrow bed. He pulled his knees into his chest and began to gather the fragments of emotions tied to everything his master had revealed today. He pulled them apart stripping the facts of his behavior from the emotion it evoked within him and placed each one of the unwanted feelings in his box. The process lasted over an hour such was the grievous extent of his failure, but finally, when it was all done, he obeyed his master's wishes and drifted into restful sleep.