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.

A/N 2: On a side note, I am currently working on the story that will precede my other work, Undone. I have not yet decided if I am going to post as I write it or wait until I'm finished or, at least, significantly ahead before posting. I am interested in what you all think. If I post as I write there will be long and probably erratic gaps despite my attempts to post regularly. On the other hand, if I wait it will likely be quite awhile before I begin to post anything. If you have an opinion on this one way or the other drop it into your comments/reviews or send me your thoughts in a PM. Thanks for all your support. Enjoy this final chapter of Perfect.

Thanks:

2theSky: I'm so glad you're enjoying it!

Annabeth Shadownight-Kenobi: I know right!

Geri K: Considering how much I love your Council scene that is a truly high compliment and I thank you for it! I worked hard to do right by Qui-Gon in that I don't really think he meant to be such a bantha head, but on the other hand he does speak sometimes without thinking. I didn't want him to be the villain, just a guy who used a poor choice of words and hurt people he cared about. Also, fear not, though this is the last chapter and it won't end like Disney, I promise you I am no Obi murderer... well not yet anyway...

Please R&R!

Part IV – Out of Mind

"Unacceptable."

"Qui-Gon, be reasonable."

"You ask me to stand here and do nothing! How is that reasonable?" Qui-Gon shouted as he stopped his pacing in exasperation. Mace's frown deepened as he regarded his friend, but Yoda remained silent sitting on a small cushion in his quarters, his expression as inscrutable as ever. Only the slight droop of his ears betrayed any of the ancient master's sorrow for the situation.

"We only ask that you consider what is best for Obi-Wan," Mace answered calmly.

"A quick recovery is what is best for him," Qui-Gon countered effortlessly.

"No matter the cost?" the Korun Councilor retorted. The long haired master's eyes narrowed angrily.

"What are you implying, Mace?" he asked, the ire in his voice unmistakable. The Councilor took a deep calming breath before answering. He spoke in measured tones considering his words carefully.

"I am implying that the reason Obi-Wan is in this state is because you often act and speak without considering the consequences to others."

"I would never hurt him..." Qui-Gon started, but Mace would have none of it; his own frustration finally getting the best of him.

"But you have, Qui-Gon... For the love of the Force, how can you not see that?" he yelled. The heat of Qui-Gon's gaze fell abruptly replaced by a deep look of despair and self-loathing.

"I only wanted... I..." the master stammered, but again he was interrupted.

"Exactly, Qui-Gon... you wanted, you needed... but this shouldn't be about you should it?" Mace finished. Qui-Gon hung his head. His body seemed preternaturally still. Several moments of silence passed before he spoke again and when he did his voice was small and uncharacteristically timid.

"So I am to do nothing while he suffers?" he asked. Mace shook his head. His own anger quickly drained away by his compassion.

"We never said that."

"Then what?" Qui-Gon asked a spark of hope in eyes.

"We need to move cautiously. We have no idea what we are truly dealing with."

"But how can we know? Only Obi-Wan can answer that."

"Then answers from him we must get," Yoda suddenly intoned. Mace turned to the elder Jedi with a quizzical expression.

"Master, Obi-Wan is in no condition to..."

"Speak he cannot. Into his mind one must go."

"To enter the mind of a patient in a coma... Master Yoda, it is too dangerous, both to Obi-Wan and to whomever goes in after him."

"Let me," Qui-Gon said, his tone calm, but still shadowed.

"What?" Mace exclaimed, but before he could continue Qui-Gon turned to him, his eyes pleading.

"Let me go. Please..."

"Qui-Gon..."

"The boy's master he is," Yoda interrupted. "Already a bond they have. Easier it would be for both, know that you do."

"Yes, but...," Mace started hesitantly turning from Yoda to Qui-Gon and then to Yoda again. "Forgive me, but if Qui-Gon is the reason Obi-Wan is... as he is... is it wise that he be the one to go into the boy's mind?" he asked Yoda, but it was Qui-Gon who answered.

"For that reason alone I should be the one. I...," he paused swallowing heavily, "caused this... allow me a chance to fix it... please..." Qui-Gon stopped. He took a deep breath and looked at both Councilors squarely. "What happens after... I will leave to the Council's discretion," he finished. Yoda nodded his head slowly as he pushed himself off of his tiny cushion and began to head to the main door of his quarters.

"Decided it is. Qui-Gon into the padawan's mind will go."

"I must reiterate that I object to this entire procedure. It is exceedingly reckless and dangerous to both master and padawan. Why the Council would approve such a thing in the first place is beyond my comprehension!" Ar snapped, his Force aura vibrating with barely suppressed indignation. Yoda grunted as he settled himself in a chair in the small healing room with some difficulty. The wizened master then turned his gaze to the Master Healer standing before him.

"Understand your concerns the Council does, but proceed in this we shall."

"Master Yoda, please I implore you," Ar began again, but a sharp glare from the miniature master quelled any further entreaty the healer might have had. With an audible sigh, Ar Songe turned to the man that stood beside his patient's bed.

"You understand that there is no way of predicting what you will encounter in his mind."

"I do," Qui-Gon answered calmly, his eyes meeting the healer's squarely, but Ar was not so easily assuaged.

"Nor will anyone be much assistance to you or Obi-Wan should something go wrong."

"I understand the risks."

"If you fail in this, we may lose you both," Ar added. Qui-Gon brought his gaze down to his apprentice, his expression softening, his eyes tinged with sadness.

"If I don't try, we are both already lost," the master answered softly. Ar shook his head, his thin shoulders slumping slightly in defeat.

"Then may the Force be with us, because reason certainly is not."

Qui-Gon was standing outside of the Temple, but that... couldn't be right. He had been in the medical ward with Master Yoda and Master Songe. He was preparing to enter his padawan's troubled mind. Was that where he was? Inside Obi-Wan's mind?

Qui-Gon walked up the steps leading inside the "Temple." As he approached he could see two Temple Guards standing beside a desk manned by a single knight just inside the main entrance. He slowly walked up to the desk. Immediately, the sentries took up flanking positions at his side. Qui-Gon stopped his advance in an attempt to show himself in a non-threatening light, after all, this wasn't actually the Jedi Temple, but merely a construct of his padawan's mind. The knight at the desk looked up at the unexpected visitor, his large bulbous eyes blinking repeatedly before he spoke.

"You are not supposed to be here," the old Mon Calamarian knight intoned as he stared at the long haired master. Qui-Gon gave a shallow bow.

"I am here to find someone. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Do you know where he is?" the master asked and suddenly he was seized on either side by the guards. The Mon Cal knight had pulled his own saber, the tip of which hovered mere centimeters away from Qui-Gon's throat.

"What business do you have with that one?" the knight demanded. Qui-Gon held his calm despite the precariousness of his situation. He met the dark eyes of the knight before him as he spoke in his typically serene tones.

"It is important that I speak with him," he answered, but the knight was unimpressed.

"Leave this place. Now!"

"Not until I have spoken with Obi-Wan."

"You will leave!" the knight hissed, his saber moving so close to the master's skin he could feel the short hairs of his beard begin to sizzle.

"Stand down," a familiar yet strangely unfamiliar tenor voice called out. Qui-Gon carefully shifted his eyes, but not his head to see the newcomer as he approached his welcoming committee. This new person was human, male, a Jedi, and also incredibly familiar. From his long auburn hair and matching beard, to his blue-grey eyes, and dulcet voice... Qui-Gon felt he knew this man and yet...

"He doesn't belong here," the knight repeated though he never took his eyes off the long haired master. The Jedi smiled and placed a hand on the knight's arm, gently directing him to deactivate his lightsaber.

"Stand down. We know this one," the new Jedi replied and the Mon Cal knight lowered his saber from Qui-Gon's throat disengaging it in the process. As the weapon was lowered the two guards also released their hold on the master and stepped away from him. The young auburn haired Jedi smiled at the master and gestured towards the interior of the Temple.

"Would you walk with me?" he asked, his tone cultured and lilting. Qui-Gon nodded, stepping around the desk and its glaring knight, to join the other Jedi at his side. The two then began to walk into the Temple proper. As they passed under the large ornate archways the other Jedi tucked his hands into the sleeves of his cloak and began to speak.

"I apologize for that. As you can imagine we don't get many visitors here," the man said. Qui-Gon nodded his head in understanding and tucked his own hands into his sleeves as they walked. They traveled down the many wide corridors of the Temple sedately and in companionable silence as Qui-Gon took in his surroundings; surroundings that he was intimately acquainted with as he had known them all his life. This "mind" Temple was like the real Temple in every way. No detail was lost in this recreation and the master felt himself comforted by it. Finally, he felt the need to speak.

"You said before that you knew me."

"Yes," the man answered, but he said no more. Qui-Gon waited a moment hoping that the other man was simply gathering his thoughts, but soon he realized that nothing further was going to be offered, so the master dove in again.

"Who are you?" he asked. The young man stopped his perambulation, turned to him and smiled.

"I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight."

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon repeated both in shock and, yet somehow, in relieved expectation. "But you are,"

"Older, yes and knighted," Obi-Wan replied. "Think of me as the knight he believed he would become."

"He?" Qui-Gon asked now utterly confused; a state in which the master rarely found himself. "He who?"

"Your padawan."

"But aren't you..." Qui-Gon started, but Obi-Wan raised a hand and looked around. He spied an alcove not far from them and gestured towards it. The master moved to the small window seat and sat down. Obi-Wan joined him a moment later and proceeded with his explanation.

"I am merely one aspect of the one you know as your padawan. I am Obi-Wan's dreams, his aspirations, the culmination of his work and goals."

"Then you can help me, help him reach his goals," Qui-Gon stated, but the knight shook his head, a somber expression on his face, a deep sadness treading in his ocean colored eyes.

"I... cannot."

"Why?"

"I am not the one who... is in control here."

"Then who is?" the master asked and the knight sighed heavily.

"You may not be ready to meet him. It will be hard for you... both of you."

"I don't care. I will do whatever it takes to help him."

"He will not want your help. He will attempt to stop you, perhaps even hurt you," the knight responded and for a single heartbeat Qui-Gon was afraid, but the fear was quickly discarded as it would do him no good here. He was here for one purpose and one purpose only; to save his padawan. Nothing else mattered, not even his life.

"It doesn't matter. I must do this," the master answered and the knight could see the resolve in those dark, midnight blue eyes. The knight nodded and stood.

"Very well, Master, but please do not doubt the power he wields here. He is who you must convince."

"And who is he?" Qui-Gon inquired as he too rose to his feet.

"Obi-Wan."

"What? I don't understand."

"It is Obi-Wan you must convince, Master Qui-Gon, not your padawan and not a knight, but an initiate whom no one wanted."

"Are you saying that this... everything that has happened is because of what he felt as a child?"

"I am saying that all this is, is that child. Do not underestimate him, Master," the knight Obi-Wan pleaded. Qui-Gon still did not completely understand what this Obi-Wan was trying to tell him, but he knew it was a warning and treated it as such. He nodded to the troubled knight.

"I understand. Please, take me to him."

The two Jedi walked the empty halls of the "Temple" in contemplative silence; Knight Kenobi leading, Master Jinn following absently behind adrift in his own ponderings. So lost he was that the master nearly ran into the young knight before him when the guide stopped abruptly.

"Hmmm."

"Something wrong?"

"This is not where I expected us to be," the knight answered distractedly, his hand resting underneath his bearded chin. Qui-Gon took a moment to survey his surroundings. He had known that they had been traveling down the main dormitory wing, ostensibly their destination the initiate's quarters. However, as the long haired master glanced around he noted they were decidedly not near the initiate quarters, but instead were deeply within the training halls right outside of training salle three. Qui-Gon turned to his guide.

"I thought we were going to the dormitories."

"Apparently not," the knight answered. Though the younger man's tone was pleasant, Qui-Gon felt a surge of irritation from the dismissive response. His padawan was in trouble. He did not have time for idle games and he said as much.

"You said you could take me to him, to Obi-Wan."

"I did," the knight responded serenely. Too damn serenely in Qui-Gon's opinion.

"Then do so," the master snapped harshly. As if he just noticed the change in the master's tone, the knight blinked suddenly then gave the older man an apologetic smile.

"My apologies, Master Jinn. I am taking you to him, but that doesn't mean I know where he is, only the way to him. It is... difficult to explain," he said. Qui-Gon took a moment to consider the man's odd statement, his own frustration bleeding off a bit as he did so.

"It's like you're following... a bond?"

"Well, not precisely, but as an analogy it is essentially accurate. Which means," the young knight said as he turned back to the closed door. "The path to him,"

"Lies through that door," the master completed, turning his attention to the closed portal as well. Without further discussion, Qui-Gon palmed open the door and stepped inside. Immediately he was greeted by a familiar face, the first one he'd seen since arriving in this strange place.

"Hello, old friend."

"Mace?" Qui-Gon stumbled out genuinely perplexed. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you," the Korun Councilor answered with a wide smile. "I need a sparring partner."

"I," Qui-Gon began prepared to deliver a polite refusal when the reason for the declination suddenly escaped him. The master frowned momentarily, feeling as if there were something he was forgetting, something... or someone maybe? However, the more the master concentrated the more the "something" slipped from his grasp until it was nothing more than a distant niggling in his mind. With a dismissive shrug, Qui-Gon removed his cloak and unhooked his lightsaber. Mace's smile grew even larger as he settled into a position opposite Qui-Gon on the mat. The long haired master gestured to the sandy haired knight. When the knight stepped up he held out his cloak for the younger man to take.

"If you would," Qui-Gon said offering the cloak to the man for safe keeping. The blue-grey eyes of the knight stared at the master intently.

"Master Jinn, perhaps this is not the best time for this," the unknown knight spoke. Qui-Gon's eyes widened in surprise.

"Nonsense," the master answered smoothly. "Now is the perfect time. I have no pressing matters at the moment."

The knight opened his mouth to speak further then abruptly closed it deciding otherwise. Instead he gave a short bow to the master and returned to the edge of the mat. Qui-Gon glanced at his partner with a mischievous grin as he lit his saber.

"Shall we?" he asked and the two masters began dancing. Columns of green and violet whirled and slashed throughout the small space, traveling nearly faster than the eye could see leaving only arcing, blurry swatches of color in their wake. With each pass, the Councilor's smile grew until he was plainly beaming with enthusiasm. Qui-Gon felt his own spirit lift in the face of such joy.

"You should smile more often, my friend," the long haired master said as he deftly parried the other master's strike. "It suits you better than your usual scowl."

"My scowl," Mace retorted as he lunged only to have his opponent flip over his head and land a couple of meters behind him, "is a highly developed tool of the Force used to ensure that focus in the Order is centered on the needs of the Republic."

Qui-Gon chuckled as Mace blocked a series of his strikes with ease.

"You mean you use it to scare other Jedi back in line!" he laughed, Mace joining in. Qui-Gon shook his head still smiling. "You know my padawan always said that your frown could..." he began, but found himself trailing off as something in his mind suddenly itched at the thought of his padawan.

"Come on, old man," Mace taunted, but Qui-Gon was having none of it. He held his hand up, palm out towards his friend.

"Hold," he said as he deactivated his lightsaber. He frowned in concentration as he tried to understand what he was feeling. He was thinking of his padawan... His padawan... of Obi-Wan.

"What's the matter?" Mace inquired as he stepped closer to his friend, also deactivating his saber.

"My padawan..." Qui-Gon answered unable to say more as his brain still seemed to be churning through the muck of his feelings and vague nigglings. Mace clasped a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, do not concern yourself over that. You don't have a padawan, Qui-Gon. So you see, there is nothing to worry about! Now," the Korun Councilor said with a slap on the other man's back. "Let's get back to our match. Say, best two out of three?"

Qui-Gon stared at his friend, for a moment, unable to speak. What had Mace said?

"I... I do have a padawan, Mace. I have Obi-Wan. He..." Qui-Gon stuttered. He turned and saw the familiar knight standing to the side of the mat. Immediately, the fuzz in his mind cleared. He turned back to the visage of his long time friend and agemate.

"No, I do have a padawan, Mace and he is in trouble. I cannot stay," he stated calmly. Suddenly, Mace grabbed his arm holding his wrist in a painful grip.

"I must insist, Qui-Gon," the Councilor hissed. Qui-Gon quickly executed a rolling hand movement and extricated himself from the other man's hold.

"You are not real. You are a distraction. I will find my padawan!" the long haired master responded, his voice deep and growling with his determination. Without further response or explanation, the image of Mace Windu quickly disappeared leaving the knight and master alone in the training salle. The knight approached the master holding out his cloak for him. Qui-Gon slipped the heavy garment back on and regarded the older version of Obi-Wan somberly.

"Why didn't you say something?" he asked his knighted padawan. Knight Kenobi gave the master a sad expression, but his words were simply intoned carrying none of the grief held in his eyes.

"I am only your guide here. I may not interfere," he answered. If the knight thought the master would be angry, he was surprised to see only a genuine acceptance of his role in the master's regard.

"I suppose there will be more attempts to stop me then?"

"I believe so, yes," the knight responded. "These are likely his defense mechanisms to keep you from getting too close."

"Too close to him," Qui-Gon added with a heavy sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment as he sought his center. When he opened them again, Kenobi could see the gleam of determination staring back at him.

"Let's continue," the master said and then the pair walked back to the salle door, sliding it open, but instead of stepping out into the main corridor of the training hall, the Jedi found themselves in the funeral hall. The room was filled to capacity with hooded figures... Jedi, though Qui-Gon could see none of their faces. Slowly, the master brought his eyes up to the body lying on the pyre. That face he could see.

"No..." he said, the denial barely a whisper on his lips. Quietly the hooded figures faded into nothingness leaving only the two travelers and the still figure in the room. Qui-Gon turned to his guide a question in his eyes, but before he could speak it a sudden movement caught his eye. On the unlit pyre the still figure was... moving. The Jedi rose from the platform, gracefully sliding off the side landing quietly on bare feet before taking the short few steps to stand before him. A hand reached out and gently cupped the master's face. Qui-Gon closed his eyes, his whole body trembling under the touch.

"Qui..." the familiar honeyed voice whispered. It was too much. Far too much. Qui-Gon's eyes tightened further shut even as he held onto his resolve with two hands.

"No..." he repeated, but the apparition did not go away. Instead, he felt two arms slide along his waist wrapping themselves around his lean torso as the warm and familiar weight of a head rested on his chest. Qui-Gon wanted to return the embrace, but he could not. He could only stand there, stock still, partly willing the creature away, partly hoping it would never leave. Finally, the master was forced to open his eyes and gaze upon the lovely face of his misery.

"Tahl..."

"Qui..."

"This can't... You're... dead..."

"There is no death, Qui," Tahl answered. She pulled back from the master slightly as she raised her eyes to look at him. Eyes that should have been sightless, Qui-Gon knew, but nevertheless regarded him with a sense of pure, unguarded love. "Do you remember what we said to each other that day on New Apsolon?"

"Of course," Qui-Gon replied haltingly. "We... pledged ourselves to one another... We said that we would be together... always..."

"Yes, my love," Tahl whispered.

"But..." he continued. "You died. You left me."

"Never, dear heart. Here we can be together... All you need do is stay," she said. Tahl raised herself on her toes and gently pressed her lips against his. The touch was feather soft at first, but soon Qui-Gon found himself unwittingly deepening the gentle kiss; infusing it with all the passion he had hoped to show her in life. He knew it was wrong. That she was dead and lost to him and yet... she was here. Kissing him. The kiss their last meeting only hinted at was now happening and it was wonderful. He lost himself in her embrace, his arms finally closing in around her lithe, firm, and supple body, pulling her in closer to him, willing them both to melt into one another. Finally, they both separated, needing to breathe. More than that, Qui-Gon needed to think. He had a duty to perform. He had to save his padawan... but Tahl was here... in his arms and the prospect was tempting. Too much so.

"My padawan..." he gasped still breathless from the wealth of emotion cradled between them. Tahl placed a cupped hand on his cheek and stared lovingly into his dark, midnight blue eyes.

"Sshh. You need not worry about him now. Just... be here... with me, Qui."

"I... Tahl, he needs me," he answered and suddenly he saw a flash of anger in those green and gold striped eyes.

"He is the reason we were separated, Qui-Gon. Would you really choose him over me?" she hissed. With her words the spell over Qui-Gon was broken. He pulled her hands away from his body, cradling them within his larger, more calloused ones.

"Obi-Wan did not cause your death. Tahl... the real Tahl, my Tahl would not blame him for it, nor would she ever ask me to choose between them," Qui-Gon answered sadly. The master closed his eyes and let go of her hands even as he spoke the words that let her go from his heart. "You are not my Tahl."

When he opened his eyes she was gone and the pain of her loss hit him anew. His heart wretched agonizingly as he stared into the empty space that so recently held the form of his beloved. Kenobi placed a hand on his shoulder prepared to offer words of comfort when the sound of slow clapping broke the silence of the moment.

"I must say I am impressed," an unwelcome and familiar cultured voice called from up above. Qui-Gon raised his eyes to see the unmistakable person of his former apprentice lounging languidly on the once empty pyre.

"Xanatos."

"Master," the dark haired young man answered. Qui-Gon sighed wearily.

"I have no want of any further games or distractions, Xanatos. You are not real. You are dead. Leave me be."

Xanatos opened his mouth to respond, but before he could his smirk transformed into scowl. "The troll is here," he muttered in disgust just as Qui-Gon felt a presence low at his side. The master turned to find himself looking into the gimlet eyes of the Grand Master of the Jedi Order.

"Master Yoda? What are you doing here?"

"Here I am not. In the Healer's Ward, I am as are you. In grave danger you are. Come I have to bring you back," the diminutive master intoned. Qui-Gon reflexively knelt before the ancient master, concern radiating from his very being.

"What has happened?"

"Your padawan's vitals, dropping they are. His Force aura weakening. Stay in his mind you cannot or lose you both we will," Yoda explained his large, expressive ears dipping considerably in his sorrow. Qui-Gon took a deep breath before speaking.

"Master, I cannot leave him," he replied softly. The older master stomped his stick against the floor, the resulting clack echoing in the large chamber.

"Leave him you must. Learner he is. Master you are. Afford to lose you the Order cannot."

"But surely," Qui-Gon began only to be cut off by the sound of a gimer stick striking the floor.

"Unimportant he is. Needed you are. Return to us now, you will!" the small master demanded so forcefully that it caused Qui-Gon to flinch involuntarily. The younger master rose to his full height looking down upon the smaller Jedi.

"Obi-Wan is important. I will not return," he spoke, defiance rolling off him in waves. With a mild "hrumph," the Grand Master vanished leaving the three younger men alone in the hall. Qui-Gon turned his gaze back on the image of his former apprentice.

"You know I truly thought you would fall for that one. You always had a soft spot for the old troll," Xanatos smirked.

"I grow tired of these distractions."

"Distractions?" the once Jedi echoed as he hopped down from the raised pyre. "Are you calling me a distraction?"

"You attempt to keep me from finding him," Qui-Gon all but growled in response. Xanatos leaned against the platform casually.

"Are you certain of that, Master? Have you ever stopped to consider that he," he said indicating Kenobi "is the greatest distraction? After all, what kind of guide doesn't know where he's going?"

The question caused Qui-Gon to pause in thought for a moment, but only a moment. Sparing a quick glance to his padawan-knight, he then turned his full attention back to Xanatos.

"I trust him. I do not trust you," Qui-Gon answered as he turned away from the fallen Jedi and began to head out of the room, Kenobi in step at his side.

"How dare you turn your back on me!" Xanatos snarled. Qui-Gon stopped in his stride as he spoke.

"There is nothing more between us, Xanatos. It's over," he intoned as he began walking again. The image of Xanatos vanished, but the master did not see it. He simply left the room, never looking back.

"May I ask you a question, Master Jinn?" Kenobi asked as the two traversed the quiet halls.

"Of course."

"Why did you not believe him? I mean... I am thankful that you didn't, but you did not even seem to consider that Xanatos could have been telling the truth about me. Why?" the knight asked. Qui-Gon remained silent for a moment before answering.

"You told me when I first arrived here that you were a construct of my padawan's mind, an image of the knight he hoped he would become. The knight I know he would be would never be used to serve such a destructive purpose and besides..." the master paused as he turned to look at the young knight. "When this is over and my Obi-Wan is returned to me, it is my hope that we will meet again, my Knight."

Construct or not, real or not, the knight's face flushed under such unabashed praise. Self consciously, he dipped his head under the compliment.

"I hope for that as well, Master," he replied softly then he stopped in front of a closed door which Qui-Gon immediately recognized.

"Our quarters," he said looking at the door then back at the knight. "Is he...?"

"Yes, he is inside. I am sure of it, but... he is not alone."

"More distractions?"

"I doubt it," Kenobi answered thoughtfully. "I suspect something different awaits you inside." The knight sighed. "I wish I could be of more help."

"You have been a great help indeed, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon replied before returning his attention to the door. "But this is something I must face on my own."

The master took a deep centering breath then palmed the door open and stepped into the familiar quarters. What he found caused him to gasp despite himself. Before him he saw... himself sitting in his favorite chair and another... him kneeling in apparent meditation by the balcony doors. The seated "him" rose quietly to his feet, his arms crossed over his chest, a stern glare in his eyes.

"You should not have come here," the first other Qui-Gon growled.

"Still, he is here now. The question is what is to be done about it," Qui-Gon Two answered, his eyes still closed in meditation, his expression as serene as Qui-Gon One's was in irritation.

"Who... What are you?" the real Qui-Gon spoke.

"We are his Master," the two others answered in unison.

"I don't understand."

"You don't need to understand," Qui-Gon One barked. "You only need to leave. The boy is not your concern."

"He is my padawan."

"He never should have been," One retorted sharply. "He is too weak to be a Jedi."

"Perhaps," interrupted Two. "But he is our padawan now and we must do our best in light of his weakness. Our duty demands it," he finished ruefully.

"The boy is a perpetual disappointment, but now are finally free of him. Our duty is to the future of the Jedi, to our new padawan, Anakin," One countered. Two opened his eyes and shook his head.

"It is unfortunate that we have raised his hopes so, but yes... we must now see to our new padawan," Two replied. Qui-Gon felt his hands shake in barely restrained fury.

"I will not abandon him for Anakin or the Council or the Order or for the whole damn Force! I am his master and he is my padawan and I will see him! Now!" he yelled. Suddenly, the door to his padawan's room slid open, but unlike before the apparitions did not vanish. Qui-Gon noted the difference, but paid it no mind as he crossed warily between the two Qui-Gon's and entered the small bedroom. Kenobi did not follow. The door closed silently behind him and the master found himself, finally, alone with his padawan.

As the knight had warned him, this Obi-Wan was younger than his present self. Perhaps only twelve or thirteen standard. He sat on his bed, his back against the head board, his knees pulled into his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around himself. Qui-Gon approached him carefully as if he were nearing a frightened animal. The boy looked up at him, his blue-grey eyes wide and full of tears.

"Please... go away," Obi-Wan whispered. Qui-Gon sat down on the edge of the bed, but was careful to move no closer.

"I've come to take you home, Padawan," the master said softly, but the boy shook his head.

"No... No one wants me."

"I want you, Obi-Wan. I want you very much."

"No you don't. You only want me out of pity. I'm not supposed to be a Jedi. I'm just a disappointment," the boy stated matter-of-factly. It was then that the master realized the significance of his previous encounter. Pity and disappointment. Those were the other two masters. Qui-Gon closed his eyes as understanding hit him. He took a quiet moment to breathe through the stinging pain and guilt that washed over him.

"Is that how you think I see you, Padawan?" he said his eyes still closed. "Oh, how I've wronged you, my Padawan. I have truly failed you."

"You... You could never fail me, Master," Obi-Wan answered vehemently. "It's my fault. I'm the unworthy one! I never should have asked,"

"No!" Qui-Gon interrupted his eyes flashing open. "You are worthy, Obi-Wan. You are meant to be a great Jedi. The fault is mine for not telling you more often... For not telling you what a great joy you are in my life. You are my Light, Obi-Wan."

"But,"

"No, buts. It is the truth. A truth I should have shared with you long before this. Do you believe me?" the master asked gently. Obi-Wan bit his lip and looked away from the kind eyes regarding him.

"Do you?"

"I... I want to..." the boy answered meekly. Qui-Gon placed a finger under the boy's chin pulling his gaze back to him.

"Tell me then what doubts are still holding you back. Show me," he asked and then...

The box opened.

"He's waking," a voice said from what seemed to be some great distance. Qui-Gon struggled to open eyes that seemed to have heavy weights attached to their lids. It was like he was emerging from a deep pit, bits of consciousness filtering in as he approached the light of the surface world. Finally, he was able to open his eyes.

"It is good to see you, my friend. We thought that we had lost you," a familiar baritone emanating from his left said. Qui-Gon followed the sound and after several blinks managed to turn the blurry image into that of Mace Windu.

"Wha..." he rasped, his throat feeling as if he had spent the last week swallowing sand. A swift movement to his right caught his attention as he turned to find the orange eyes of Master Songe regarding him thoughtfully as he offered a glass of water for him to drink. Qui-Gon sipped from the proffered cup gratefully before leaning back onto his pillows, weary from the minor exertion. Songe held the master's gaze for a moment longer.

"How do you feel, Qui-Gon?"

"Tired," the long haired master answered truthfully. "What happened?" he asked. He watched as the healer and Councilor shared a significant glance before Mace turned to him to speak.

"What do you remember?"

"I...," Qui-Gon started as he searched his mind for the appropriate recollections. His eyes widened in fear and he surged up griping Mace's hand.

"Obi-Wan!" he yelled. Mace grabbed hold of the hand holding him attempting to ease the painfully hard grip.

"He is... well, Qui-Gon," Mace answered carefully. Qui-Gon relaxed his vice like hold.

"Then... it worked? He is awake?" he asked. It was Songe who answered.

"Yes, it worked. You were able to pull him out of his coma, but somehow you suffered a major backlash of his emotions and memories. It sent you into psychic shock. Do you have any memory of that?" Songe inquired his tone having none of the ire of their last conversation, but also none of the warmth the healer usually employed. Qui-Gon closed his eyes, his head dropping to his chest.

"I asked him to show me his doubt... To tell me why he could not believe that I wanted him as a padawan. I... wasn't ready... I didn't expect..."

"What? What did he show you? What did you sense?" Mace asked.

"Grief. Despair. Shame. Pain. Such pain," Qui-Gon whimpered slightly as he looked up to his friend. "He's been hiding such pain and... I never knew. I'm his master and I never knew, Mace."

"Oh, Qui-Gon..." the Councilor whispered not knowing what to say to ease his friend's pain.

"Where is he, Mace? I need... I need to see him. I need to tell him..."

"I'm afraid that's not possible..."

"What? Why? You said it worked, that he recovered!"

"Yes, he recovered," Songe answered hesitantly. "But... you have been unconscious for four days, Master Jinn."

"Four days..." Qui-Gon repeated. He turned his attention back to Mace. "Please, let me see him," the master pleaded. Mace felt a small part of his own heart break to see the desperation and anguish in the other master's eyes.

"Qui, Obi-Wan resigned from the Order. We asked him not to, we asked him to at least stay until you recovered, but... He's gone, Qui-Gon."

"Where?" he whispered.

"We... don't know. He didn't tell us. I am so sorry, Qui."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes the full weight of his despair crushing against his soul. He felt strangely hollow, empty. The once vibrant light in his mind that was their training bond lay dark, dormant, a withered and discarded carapace from another time.

He was once again alone.

Obi-Wan was gone.

Epilogue

Several weeks later...

Qui-Gon once again settled into a meditation pose underneath the vast collection of holographic stars and planets above him. He did as he had done for weeks now silently gazing at the wide, slow moving representation of the galaxy. Only one dared disturb the broken hearted master who kept his quiet vigil in the star map room and even he, wizened Jedi that he was, was unable to penetrate the deep, abiding sorrow that filled the younger master's being. So, his Jedi brothers and sisters let him be, hoping that in time the master would find some peace, find some solace... But Qui-Gon wasn't looking for peace. He wasn't looking for solace. He was looking for only one thing.

He was looking for Obi-Wan.

Everyday he came here and meditated hoping that the Force would show him where he could find his lost padawan. Everyday he uttered the same prayer, now a somber mantra.

"Force please, guide me to him. I beg you... help me find my padawan."

Everyday he asked this of the Force and everyday the Force answered with silence. The Force had abandoned him, offering him no answers and each day the master found himself believing more and more that it never would.

Finis.