The Stolen Ones

Chapter Seven

The light still shone in Obi-Wan's hands, but there was a huge darkness wakening inside him. He could feel it blocking his throat, swelling inside his chest, so that his labouring heart had to battle not only the inadequate air but also his own grief.

I'm not going to think it. I won't say it.

Beside him, Dena gasped, sprawled against the wall, sweat and dirt striping her face with lines of gold and black. She was dying, and it was his fault.

Despair squirmed once more in his stomach. The layer of discipline restraining it was very thin now. If he said the words it would come out and devour him. Then he wouldn't be able to stop crying. He didn't want to cry in front of Dena; didn't want to die in front of Dena, still trying to pretend he was strong.

"He's...not coming." There - now he'd betrayed even himself. Discipline shattered, and for a moment the words themselves obsessed him, clawing their way out like monsters. "He's not coming. He's not coming!"

His voice broke, hatefully, making him feel stupid as well as abandoned. He never wanted me. He wants to get rid of me. He wants me to die...

Maddeningly, just as he had begun to wallow in his misery, a calm, Jedi voice in his mind said You're only panicking because you can't breathe. It's a common reaction. Focus. But he didn't want to focus. How can I focus! "He's not coming!"

"Aah...coff...Shut up!" Dena rolled her head sideways against the wall, fixed him with wide, furious eyes as she struggled to breathe. "Use the comlink."

He coughed, gasped - it hurt so much! "I tried it. He...won't answer."

"Try it...again!"

Not enough air to argue or explain. He thumbed the comlink on and heard again that terrible, reproving silence at the other end. "Master?"

I shouldn't have to ask! If I have to ask it's as bad as him not coming at all. I'd have to live, knowing. Knowing that he really wants me to die.

There were other griefs behind that one, lurking in its shadow like a pack of rancors behind its leader. Those he could still fight down, and he did, even though it felt as if his ribs were breaking, trying to keep them in.

"Then...aah...use the Force."

I shouldn't have to ask! It was hard to think past his personal desolation, but he owed Dena this. Because, while Qui-Gon might abandon Obi-Wan, he would still dare anything to save the life of this woman he had never met.

Does that make sense?

What? I really expect him to make sense?

He breathed deeply, and it was like having a saw dragged through his lungs. Gather the Force, breathe in, and the agony would tear it back out of his hands. "It hurts too much!"

Why should Dena react as if he'd insulted her? She snapped upright, slapped him hard across the cheek, and - when she'd stopped wheezing - screamed at him. "What hurts? What hurts?! You just don't wanna try!"

"It doesn't...hurt you?"

"No," Dena turned to prop her forehead on the wall. Her sides pulsed like those of a trapped animal; her teeth were gritted as she spoke; and the tempo of her breathing speeded, speeded. "It aches, that's all."

Why? Obi-Wan wondered as a fresh wave of torment crested and swept him away. His arms spasmed and his hands opened by themselves. Why should I feel it if she doesn't? His head felt thick as the Carbon-dioxide poisoning set in. He couldn't concentrate long enough to find an answer.

Like an omen, the river stone rolled from his palm and fell into the dust. Deprived of the Force-presence of his touch it would fade soon, and darkness would come. He watched, waited, but it didn't fade. If anything its glow seemed to grow more radiant, more starlike than before, and the gold ornaments on the floor sent back the light in scattered flames.

That should mean something.

"I want out!" Dena broke, hauling herself to her feet, staggering to the caved-in tunnel, scrabbling against the loose debris with her fingernails. "I want to get out. Let me out!"

"The Prowlers."

"I don't care!"

A stone tumbled to the floor. Dislodged mortar hissed and poured. She was going to bring the whole tomb down on them, working like that. "Wait."

He tried to run and sprawled - legs shaking and his chest on fire, "Aaah!" Dust softened his landing and filled his mouth. I will not cry! I won't!

Shaking his head, as if he could deny the pain's existence, he crawled to the ancient gold, pulled it back. Friction polished it into a circle of light. "Look." There were three Nimgoni waist-bands, big enough for him to pass his whole body through. He held one up against the tunnel mouth; "See?"

Her eyes were dull and stupid. She looked at the wall for a long time before an idea stirred there, but then she nodded.

He lurched back for his river-stone. Why? As his hand hovered over it he could see the blood moving through his veins. It was almost too bright to look at. Why should I want it, now? But he reached down, felt its smooth warmth, and tucked it away in his tunic. Because.

In the ghost-light of his sabre Dena looked already dead - a moving corpse. His own hands were pallid as a ghost's. For a moment he didn't know why he was still trying, and the simple answer came with a bleak triumph; It's easier to act than to feel.

"Ready?" When she nodded he leant forward, cut a deep circle in the boulders and scree of the collapsed tunnel. Fumbling, eager, Dena drove the gold band into the gap. Rocks shifted, settled. Obi-Wan whined as excitement knifed between his shoulders.

"It's holding!"

Sapphire flashed as the sabre cut the stone from inside the bracing circle, then Obi-Wan shovelled the debris out with his grazed hands. He had gone perhaps a metre when Dena pushed him aside. "Architect's...instinct. Another prop."

Much more difficult to achieve the manoeuvre now that they were both squashed into a metre of unstable rock. The second band scraped the first as Dena pulled it forward. Pebbles pattered down in a rain of soil. "Oh gods!"

The perfect circle of gold flattened across the top. It was coming down! Obi-Wan lost a moment, as though, mercifully, he had been released from feeling anything. Then the movement stopped and he was free to remember the instant when he thought he would die. "Force!"

Somehow they managed the second brace, Dena in front now, passing the rubble back. At last she paused, lying on her stomach, her head resting on a boulder, her mouth against a chink in the stone. For a while she gasped like a fish and then looked back. "I can breathe!"

"Let me." He tried to pass her - was that a small current of fresh air that felt so beautiful on his face? Surely they hadn't dug that far yet? And was that...noise beyond the barrier?

"No we'll just..."

Tchssss. Scrabble. Crack! A rock fell away from them - the sabre lit utter darkness; a hole. Wind tangled Obi-Wan's cloak as a long, fingered limb snaked through the gap and grabbed Dena's wrist.

"NOoooo!" She screamed, flailing, kicking the wall. More tentacles were pulling down the last obstruction, writhing inwards. They got her by the throat, pulled. Instantly Obi-Wan saw again Gemmer's death - the inhuman strength wrenching apart head and body - blood spraying in a sheet across the sky.

"No! He squirmed forward, caught at her ankle, but couldn't get past in the tiny space. She was jerked out of his grip, dragged, still screaming, out of the dim circle of sabre light, away into the darkness. "Dena!"

Oh Force! Oh, Force! I've failed her too He slapped the despair down angrily, pulled himself forward, slid through the final obstruction and felt the tunnel walls slide with him. A rumble began - the groan and scrape of moving boulders, ssh and patter of pouring sand. Above him, the roof sagged, and in front of him it began to fall. Not like this! I don't want to die like this!

Loosened rock hit him, and hit again. The new air was full of soil, smothering. How d'you do the Force shield? but the pain hadn't gone and even if he had known the technique he didn't think he could have used it.

In the instant before death he watched the roof fall, and fall, Not here! I want to die in the light, in the air!. And it stopped.

Paralysed with shock he lay and saw the boulders poised in mid flight, the very dust stationary on the air; the falling building being held up by....

Being held up by the Force.

Inside, his soul twisted, and he didn't know who he was or what he felt, but his body was wiser than that. It wormed through the narrow gap, and urged him forward down the dark tunnel towards the far off light.

Dena's out there. And... hard to frame the words even in his head My master. Even now they were probably fighting for their lives against the Prowlers. He had to help them.

With a burst of speed - encouraging how fast his strength had returned now he could breathe - he skidded out of the tunnel, lightsabre at the ready. But his battle-stance weakened and the sabre lowered, and eventually he thumbed it off altogether; stood in the garish sunset panting as awe earthed through him like lightning.

Qui-Gon Jinn stood in a circle of Prowlers. They were solid crimson, revealed in all their horror, but it was impossible to look at them once you saw the man. Power spilled from his very stillness, and his hard face was smooth and serene with the glory of the Force. Obi-Wan had never seen his Master look so much like a king - a king of legend with monsters as his bodyguard, and splendour in his hands like a light.

Obi-Wan had never dreamed that the quiet, introverted man could look like this. Everything he'd suffered went away under a wave of desire; I want to be him.

Dena - a prisoner in the careful grip of a Prowler tentacle - gave a strangled chuckle at the sight of Obi-Wan. Her eyes were shining, and she managed to be open mouthed and smiling at the same time.

At the sound of her voice Qui-Gon turned to her, came forward - how tall he was! - to look down into her face. "Give back what you've stolen."

She wilted under the reproach of his soft voice, bowed her head wordlessly, and took out of her pockets the gems and small gold flowers even Obi-Wan had not seen her collect. He knew what they ment to her - food for her family, care for Gemmer's baby, some kind of purpose for Blue's death - so he knew why she hesitated before giving them up.

"I will not betray the trust of these creatures," Qui-Gon said to her, reasonably, "You will give back everything that belongs to them."

Still the tone was gentle, but when she looked up Obi-Wan could see that Dena was afraid. She handed the wealth over with trembling fingers.

"Thank you," Qui-Gon smiled as though he understood the sacrifice she had just made. He put a hand on her shoulder, possessively, turned back to the Prowlers, "But now she leaves with me."

Dena's captor loosed her instantly, and flattened on the ground in obeisance. It wasn't a mind trick - it was something deeper than that - an atavistic desire to be commanded, perhaps, if only a worthy authority could be found. Despite his training in objectivity, Obi-Wan felt the compulsion too. How easily he could make us all worship him. If he chose.

"Obi-Wan?" He felt the hand on his arm with a complex of emotions that filled his already aching chest with anguish, looked up into his master's face, and was stunned. There was very little human left in the expression. It was as if the Living Force itself was inhabiting the body of Qui-Gon Jinn, looking out of the aquamarine eyes. The depth of that union made Obi-Wan uneasy. Who's in charge here? Him or it?

"Master?"

"Come on."

That was all? That was 'Welcome back. I've been worried about you. I'm sorry I took so long'...? Obi-Wan waited, but that did seem to be it; Master Jinn was already walking away, Prowlers on either side like a royal escort.

Dena came up beside Obi-Wan and they fell into step together. "This is the guy you were telling me about? The one with the emotional problems?"

He had to laugh - the sound echoing strangely around the city of tombs. "He's not usually this...awesome."

"I'm gonna talk to him about it."

"No!" Force - teach him to talk about his problems even when he thought he was dying. She's going to talk to Qui-Gon about my insecurity? Like a...like a *creche mother*! The embarrassment would kill him. "Dena, don't."

She laughed too, and the wind carried it back over the spilled gore - uncertain if it was a blasphemy or a benediction.

At the wall Dena scrambled over eagerly, but Qui-Gon paused, turned back, and Obi-Wan dithered, torn between freedom and duty. Eventually he came up to stand behind his master, but with his calves pressed against the sacred barrier. From this position he could fight or flee, if needed. When he found out what bargain Qui-Gon had struck with the monsters for his release he could challenge it, if he had to. He still had the hilt of his sabre in hand.

Qui-Gon bowed to the Prowlers, smiling. "May the Force be with you." Then he straightened, spread out his arms, and the monsters crowded in on him, touching, pulling, one even climbing him, pressing its mouth to the cut on his cheek.

"Master?" Obi-Wan took a step forward, horrified. A thought filled his lungs with boiling lead, making him stumble - Did he offer himself in exchange for me?

But the creatures were disengaging, falling away, their camouflage re-established, disappearing like wind-blown sand. He blinked back the tears of agony What's the matter with me? Why does it still hurt? and Qui-Gon caught his elbow to steady him. The big hand was shaking slightly. "Go."

Three people were waiting beyond the barrier; sitting in a vile parody of a landspeeder. Two Nimgoni and a girl with a pinched face and eyes that glittered unsteadily.

How long has it taken? Obi-Wan recognised the symptoms with a blend of humour and jealousy, With a peace-treaty in tatters and an enemy that could devour the galaxy, he's still got time to collect a family?! That's all we need.

But the speeder was welcome. He started toward it, and Dena's voice stopped him between footfalls.

"No, I'm OK. I've got people waiting for me."

They'd been through a lot together, and yet it was Master Jinn who thought to worry about her now. Feeling both guilty and impatient Obi-Wan turned back, trying to think of something to say. She saw the movement, gave him a fierce grin. "Jedi Master? I wanna talk to you about the kid."

No! She was really going to do it! Dena, shut up!

Qui-Gon inclined his head, watched her face intently. He seemed even less talkative than usual, and - now that some of the dazzle of his power had faded - Obi-Wan could see that he looked rough. His hair, torn from its tie, was full of dirt and hung around a face that was bruised everywhere and bleeding.

"The kid thinks you hate him." She really said it! And Oh it sounded dreadful in those words. Master Jinn's brows drew together in a frown, but what did it mean? Anger? Disbelief? Obi-Wan couldn't feel what his master felt - their bond was obscured by this hideous pain in his chest.

"From what he's told me, I don't see that." Dena went on. She'd lost her smile and looked now like someone paying for an expensive gift. She's not trying to embarrass me. She thinks she owes me this. But he was embarrassed. He wanted Qui-Gon's approval; his admiration. But all this would get him was pity. Why did she have to interfere?

"The thing is, I reckon you're a subtle kind of guy, and the kid doesn't do subtle. You might want to try being a bit more obvious with him."

And now she was dishing out advice to a Jedi Master! Unbelievable! Who did she think she was?

Qui-Gon nodded slowly, thoughtfully. He's going to look at me. Obi-Wan thought and felt himself flush in shame. He focused his gaze on his master's right hand - relaxing out of a fist. There was blood on the cuff.

"You lost friends?" Master Jinn's voice was unusually soft and hoarse. Obi-Wan looked up again, beginning to worry.

"Yeah. And now I gotta go tell their people." Dena's turn to look down, biting her lip. "All for nothing."

"Tell them that tonight the treaty will be signed. Tomorrow the Republic will begin bringing in food.

Oh, Master, Obi-Wan thought, seeing Dena's look of faith and pleasure with a sinking heart, How could you lie to her like that? Because they were a million miles away from signing the treaty, and Qui-Gon Jinn knew it better than anyone.

"Thankyou." Dena's smile was soft as she slapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder and turned to go. He didn't have the heart to disabuse her, but it soured the end of something sweet to watch her walk away, taking that lie back to her family.

"Obi-Wan?" there was a plea in his master's roughened voice. He turned back and looked up into eyes surprised by weakness. "Obi-Wan, I'm going to.... Catch m...unh."

Astonished, horrified, he dived forward, took the great weight on his shoulders. Qui-Gon had no strength left, and he was heavy. Obi-Wan's knees buckled. He managed to roll, so that in falling Qui-Gon hit him and not the stony ground.

"Master?" And the gnawing in his chest disappeared, instantly.

Terrified by the feeling of wellbeing, Obi-Wan disentangled himself from the sprawled limbs, the huge, filthy cloak, and crawled up to his master's head. Qui-Gon's eyes were closed, but, even unconscious, his brow was lined with pain.

"Master Qui-Gon?" He took the heavy head on his knee - there was blood in the long hair, and he had to lean close to hear the laboured, shallow breathing. That was his wound I felt all along. All the time I thought he wasn't coming for me...

"What should I do?" Damn you, don't leave me again! This should not be happening - Qui-Gon was invulnerable. Obi-Wan got captured, injured, hurt, and Qui-Gon rescued him - or not. That was the natural order of the universe. This was...just wrong.

Someone moved behind him, a bulk of colour in the growing dusk. "What happened to him?" he asked, looking up for reassurance, for someone to make sense of this for him.

"We don't know." In the twilight, he thought for a moment the speaker was a Prowler - it fitted the quality of nightmare so well. But it was the older of the two Nimgoni; a different, but related species. "We found him like that."

"I think he's bleeding inside." The girl, a spindly, strange figure in her malformed speeder, sounded just as emotionless as her companions. Instantly, he detested her.

There is no passion, there is serenity. He avoided thinking about what she had said, tried to pick his master up, but could hardly raise the broad shoulders off the ground. "Help me!"

The Nimgoni woman slithered to his side, picked his fallen master up easily and carried him to the speeder. So strong! He remembered Nam Gillet; reaching out a tentacle, tearing apart the metal and cable of a droid's arm; all the lesser Nimgoni behind him, their skin vivid with madness. And I ran away. Because I never thought they could hurt him.

"He said he'd help us."

Obi-Wan wanted to scream at them to shut up. Why do you *do* this, Master? Why do you land us with these... But he needed their speeder. He had to get Qui-Gon to a hospital. If only he knew for certain that it was safe to go back.

"Then he will, if he lives." There was no-where else to go, and if he had regained his sanity - it seemed like such a long time ago - then perhaps so had the ambassadors. "Can you take us to the embassy?"

"They won't let us past security."

"They will, if we're with you."

He climbed into the speeder. Urgh...it smelled of burnt bone. The girl had just put a severed foot into the furnace. Aw, Master, your friends!"

There was very little room. Qui-Gon lay in the footwell, his face pushed into the sharp metal angle of the wheel-housing. The disrespect was hateful.

As the speeder started, pulled away - throwing out salt and smoke - Obi-Wan sat down by him, pulled him upright, so that his master's head lolled onto the relative comfort of Obi-Wan's shoulder. At the movement, Qui-Gon moaned, opening his eyes slightly. Yes! He tried to focus on Obi-Wan's face, coughed - whole body heaving in Obi-Wan's arms - and said, faintly "Xan?"

"No." Obi-Wan went cold. Why did that hurt so much? He thinks I'm his enemy? "No, it's me, Obi-Wan."

He could see the struggle for consciousness, like a drowning man reaching for the light. With his shields up against his master's agony he could finally touch the Force - focusing it into what he hoped was a beam of healing energy.

Qui-Gon stirred, brushed fingertips tentatively over the back of Obi-Wan's hand. "...sorry. How long...?"

Have I been unconscious? "Not long - a few minutes."

"Good." He made no attempt to sit up, accepting Obi-Wan's support with a simplicity that didn't seem quite dignified. "Where...?"

Are we going? "Back to the Embassy."

He nodded, pleased - At least I got that right. - then shifted so that he could look up into Obi-Wan's eyes. The gaze was wary, tired, full of thought, and Obi-Wan looked away from it, ashamed.

"...you alright?" Drowning in his own blood, the man still had time to pity him. What could he say? I thought you'd abandoned me. Or I'm not Xanatos. I'm not anything like him! Neither of those thoughts would bear exposure. So he said, "I'm worried about you," and felt like a liar even though it was true.

---

Beyond the salt-plain, in the wastelands of the city, the sound of their engine sent dark figures running for cover. The ride was bonebreaking over rubble and bomb craters, and Obi-Wan didn't know whether to rage or weep with anxiety. But when the roads smoothed, in the centre of town, the girl and the young Nimgoni brought out blasters and shot at every moving shadow, fear like a radioactivity between them.

Seeing the Embassy now, unmarked, smooth walls towering against a fire-stained sky; smelling the scent of gardens and fresh water behind the patrolling guards Obi-Wan saw for the first time how indecent his own privilege must seem to these people. No wonder they were bitter.

Two heavily armed Nimgoni soldiers intercepted them at the closed gates, floodlights behind them like an assault. "You can't come here. You..."

Simultaneously, with a speed that might have been funny - if he had any humour left - their colour shocked from jade to snow. Qui-Gon had pushed his hair out of his eyes and sat up. "We are the Republic ambassadors."

"But you..." The seasoned soldier drew her tentacles in defensively while she thought. Patterns flicked across her skin as she consulted with her colleague. "You may pass, of course. But who are these others?"

"They're my staff."

Oh, Master!

The mother of their small family now leaned forward - she had faded into the darkness hiding from the guns; "This soldier says you're dead, Qui-Gon. She said 'But I thought the Jedi were dead, we've got search parties out looking for their bodies.'"

With a sickening clarity Obi-Wan remembered the nightmares that had possessed him before he woke in the necropolis. The worst of them had not been dreams, but memories. It flashed on him again; a picture of the dry waterfall in the Temple, and Bruck, his old rival, falling to his death.

Xanatos had corrupted Bruck; taken him into a parody of the Master/Padawan relationship, used and cast him aside. And Obi-Wan had fought him. Hard pressed, clumsy, Bruck had slipped on the slimy footing, plummeted and hit the rocks at the bottom.

It was that picture which had recurred to Obi-Wan in his possession, except that this time, he had felt the kinaesthetic thrill of pushing him over. And when Bruck's neck broke, Obi-Wan had stood above the body and gloated; fulfilled, satisfied.

Untrue. Untrue! But just true enough to be horribly convincing.

"I wonder how many of the ambassadors saw themselves killing us," he said, shaking off the sickness, and received a smile full of mischief in return.

"Guilt is a powerful negotiator."

Qui-Gon turned back to the soldier. "What's your name?"

"Tre Kidix, Sir," she shifted uneasily, uncomfortable with being just a person, and yet, perhaps, a little flattered that someone saw she existed beyond her job.

"Tre, do you want to help the peace process?"

She went through several complex patterns of thought, which their own Nimgoni refused to translate, before saying "Yes, Sir. I see a lot out here that I don't like, so yes."

It was Qui-Gon's talent, Obi-Wan saw, that every relationship he formed became personal. He had begun speaking to a soldier, but now he continued speaking to a woman called Tre. I can't do that. I don't think I even want to.

"Please don't report that we're back."

She recoiled at the request. He was, after all, asking her to risk her career. But he knew that; "You can say I mind-tricked you into it, but I'd rather not have to."

Another silent conversation. Then she said, "All right. As long as you promise to back us up if it comes to it."

"Of course."

They drove through the opened gates, waited until they shut. Qui-Gon had slumped back, and Obi-Wan could feel his master's muscles shuddering as he fought to breathe. How much had that display of control cost him? How much more could he stand? "Master?"

"Come on." Qui-Gon's arms shook as he pulled himself to his feet, "Time to come back from the dead."

"We can take the speeder!"

"Across the flowerbeds?" Qui-Gon shook his head slightly. His cheek twitched as if helplessly annoyed by his loose hair, "No. Want to...leave the blasters."

"Can you walk that far?"

"Have to."

"Then lean on me."

Their family had begun climbing out after them. "Just stay in the speeder," he said without thinking, then looked up in a reflex of fear - it wasn't his place to command. He prepared himself to apologise, but Qui-Gon just nodded, weakly, and leaned as much of his weight as Obi-Wan could bear on the boy's shoulder.

Even his Master's faint had not prepared him for that heartbreaking journey. They had gone barely half way before Qui-Gon stumbled, fell to his knees, bowed over, coughing up blood. It was unbearable to see this man so weak. It felt like being betrayed, as though some cherished illusion had been deliberately spoiled. He wanted to make it stop right now.

"Master, you can't do this." And he didn't need that look of reproach either! "You're the one who's always telling me to wait. We can do it tomorrow; you can rest now."

A faint headshake, Qui-Gon wiped bloody hands on his sleeve, braced himself to rise, panting. I can't carry you, dammit!

"Wait...for the moment. When it arrives...have to act, or lose."

Obi-Wan pulled him to his feet, caught an arm to steady him as he swayed - it was like trying to restrain a wookie - "But how do you know the moment is now? It might be tomorrow. I could go get meds; a stretcher. How do you know"

A whole dialogue of frustration passed across Qui-Gon's worn face. I suppose it isn't fair to ask him to talk.

"Just do," he said at last.

Sighing, Obi-Wan put his arm around his master's waist and began to drag him forward again. Qui-Gon was calling on the Force once more; his movements a little easier, the weight on Obi-Wan's supporting arm less crushing. They reached the balcony steps, Obi-Wan quailing at the sight of them. One stumble half way up and....

Gingerly Qui-Gon lowered himself to his knees again. "Go look. Then report. Don't be seen."

Easy enough. Though light mottled the balcony and the stone steps, the curtain of silverice blocked everything but moving darkness from the gaze of the ballroom. Just in case anyone was watching Obi-Wan climbed the vines - enveloping himself in perfume - and sidled up to the door, back pressed to the wall.

Centring himself - it was hard to do past his anxiety - he allowed the Force to bring the presences to his mind, to sharpen hearing and sight. Then he watched until disbelief and fury snapped his control, leaving him outside in the darkness again.

"They're all there." He leapt down silently onto the grass, "All acting like old friends."

Qui-Gon's closed eyes opened to slits as he heard the indignant tone of Obi-Wan's report. He nodded.

"Nam Gillet and the head of the Beta delegation, whats-his-name...."

"Arawn."

"Yeah. They've worked out a story about how we died in a riot! And they're on the point of concluding an alliance against the Republic. If the Senate doesn't buy their explanation."

It had appalled him to hear his own murder being dismissed so casually, being turned into a non-event; a political expedience. Then he caught his master's gaze and found it brimming with laughter.

"Well..." he answered the look, thinking about it, finding his own mouth tremble, "Well I suppose it is funny! But...!"

"Nam Gillet has nothing to lose now. If it gets out that he physically attacked a Republic ambassador his career is finished. And if they can agree on alliance they can agree on peace."

There was a brightness about Qui-Gon's face. Even without the fluent speech Obi-Wan would have guessed he was deep in the Force again. It was unwise. Horribly dangerous. With the Force he could drive himself well past his body's limits. He could push himself to the point of death and beyond - without even knowing it.

Obi-Wan bit the inside of his cheek. 'Have to act or lose'? He didn't feel the urgency, he didn't see the wisdom in taking this risk.

"But, Master, they're so scared. And they've come to this agreement now. And...."

Had Qui-Gon experienced the nightmares? Could he possibly appreciate how real they were? Inside that room were at least a score of people who had already committed murder. They had stood over the dead bodies of himself and his master and gloated. And now they were dealing with it; covering their backs, lying. He bit down again. How could he explain?

"It might be inconvenient that we're still alive?"

Relief made him feel absurdly buoyant. Master Jinn understood. He'd already taken it into account in his plan. If he had a plan. "Yes."

They walked together up the steps and paused with the yellow light dappling their faces.

"We'll have to trust them," said Qui-Gon, his mouth quirked in a ghost smile.

"A bunch of politicians?" It was one of those moments - like the heartbeat before battle - when the bond between them was pure and right; a moment that made everything else unimportant. Obi-Wan knew exactly what Qui-Gon was going to say, and he said it;

"We're doomed."

Trying not to snigger, Obi-Wan parted the glimmering curtain and went in to face his murderers, at his master's side.

Why not see what else I have written and am interested in.