Warning:  The following piece is very dark.  It is rated R for adult content.

Disclaimer:  The characters contained within belong to George Lucas.  No copyright infringement is intended.

Note: Thank you to Melanie for her encouragement.

 
Qui-Gon Jinn opened his eyes to greet the day that would shatter his life.  It was morning, or he assumed it was, because white light filtered through the high windows and decorated the odd patterns on the ceiling.  For some reason, Qui-Gon found himself focussing on the intricate design – the interwoven strands of orange and green, a garish combination by most galactic standards but one which was common on this forsaken world of Zaduuhm.

He was tired of this planet.  Frustrated.  Two long months he had been there and he was still no closer to negotiating a treaty than when he'd begun.  Qui-Gon was almost prepared to give up, to report back to the Council and the Senate that the Zaduuhmians were too distrustful of outsiders and would never be swayed in their way of thinking.  The Jedi had never come across a more hostile environment and he wasn't sure if it was of who he was, or what he represented.

The previous night had been Qui-Gon's last attempt, an experiment.

The lines on the roof drew his attention again.  It was strange, that, Qui-Gon reflected.  Almost as if his mind wasn't allowing him to think about last night or anything much at all.  Tracing one circular pattern, Qui-Gon decided that this was quite a relaxing pastime; his mind had never felt so blank before.

That was when the first thread of worry squirreled forth.  His mind was blank.  He knew all about his past as a Jedi and he knew all about the mission.  But there should have been much more in Qui-Gon's mind, the pinnacle of which was the previous day's events and Qui-Gon wondered why they were missing.  It was almost as if his mind didn't want to remember….

The orange lines, back to them again.  Frustrated, Qui-Gon let a sigh escape his lips.  Jedi did not often give in to such expression of emotion but in this instance, he decided he was entitled to the fault.  He was tired of looking at the hypnotic patterns.  He had negotiations to consider and he wondered how receptive the Zaduuhmians would be after the previous night's events….

…and the thought was gone again.  Now Qui-Gon was growing concerned.  He decided if he were to battle the temptation then perhaps he had better not be facing the roof.  Sitting up in his narrow bed, Qui-Gon took stock of his surroundings.  The same small room he'd been in for the past two months, the same narrow bed with fresh orange sheets.  Qui-Gon glanced down, noticing he was in his sleepwear but he had no memory of putting it on.  He was clean, his hair was neat (despite the slight mussing from sleep).  Everything was normal.

But it wasn't.  Qui-Gon closed his eyes and attempted to centre himself in the Force.  He imagined a white light as his peace, and from that light were disturbing black lines which Qui-Gon chose to ignore for the moment.  Instead, he immersed himself in memories of the mission so far.

From the moment his ship had landed on the planet, Qui-Gon had been amazed by the sense of hostility emanating from the people of Zaduuhm.  They appeared human in every aspect but their planet had long been isolated, whether through their own choice or circumstance Qui-Gon did not know, but he certainly knew that the presence of the Republic was both resented and hated.

Long days of negotiation did little to dispel this prejudice.  No matter which authorities were spoken to, the outcome was always the same: Zaduuhmians had no respect for the Republic and did not desire to be a part of the crucial treaty.

Things had looked a little better when the king of a southern region had invited the Jedi to a special state function.  And amongst the eating, the drinking, the laughing, Qui-Gon had reached a decision.  It was impossible to maintain the Jedi way amongst these people who considered the lack of laughter almost a deadly sin.  So Qui-Gon would throw away his Jedi ideals and morals.  He would try to fit in.

The first stage was accepting a particularly potent drink that stank of Dagobah's swamps and didn't taste much better.  One sip told Qui-Gon that it was alcoholic and only a few drinks would soon have him thoroughly inebriated if he wasn't careful with his manipulations of the Force.

Ah.  So that was it.  Qui-Gon smiled, thankful he'd discovered the cause of his memory loss.  It seemed that even Jedi weren't impervious to the effects of alcohol.  Now Qui-Gon could remember flashes of laughter, both his own and that of his hosts.  And refill after refill of his glass.

He'd told Obi-Wan to stay away from the drink….  Obi-Wan.  Qui-Gon's eyes snapped open as he remembered his apprentice.  He hadn't forgotten the young Jedi but his mind had chosen not to recall the fact that Obi-Wan was here on Zaduuhm with him and would probably know all about what the alcohol had done to Qui-Gon last night.  Perhaps a breakthrough had been made and perhaps Obi-Wan was negotiating with the natives at that very moment.  Qui-Gon smiled at the notion.  At seventeen, Obi-Wan had a surprising maturity and wisdom and Qui-Gon was very proud of him.  He knew Obi-Wan would be a great Jedi Knight someday.

Qui-Gon sent out a tentative probe to his apprentice's mind.  He was completely unprepared for the sudden onslaught of pain that came radiating down their bond.  //Obi-Wan?// he tried.

There was no response.  There was a wall between them, a wall initiated by his apprentice and a wall that Qui-Gon could not break through.  It was at the far end of their bond, erected closely around Obi-Wan's mind and while it could certainly keep Qui-Gon out, it couldn't stop the immense pain that was leaking through.

//Obi-Wan!//  Qui-Gon leapt from his bed, trying to ignore the growing panic in the pit of his stomach as his mind turned over terrible possibility after terrible possibility of what might have happened.  What was worse was the fact that it was his fault.  He wasn't supposed to go out and get drunk to further the negotiations.  He was responsible for his Padawan, meant to be a good example, meant to look after him at all times.  And now he had failed in that duty.  Swallowing his guilt, Qui-Gon dashed into the hall and down it, drawn to Obi-Wan's room.  Even with his limited connection, there was no denying where the pain was coming from.

Qui-Gon paused outside the door.  It was firmly closed and as much as he wanted to race inside, he knew he should at least knock out of courtesy.  He did so, and then called, "Obi-Wan?" when there was no response.

Still nothing, although when Qui-Gon closed his eyes he could feel the desolation emanating from the room.  Throwing caution to the wind, Qui-Gon used a touch of the Force to override the locking mechanism and opened the door.

A small figure was huddled on the floor in the back corner of the room.  Obi-Wan glanced up for a moment, his face white and terrified. He blinked in the sudden light and then he returned his face to his knees.   His arms were wrapped around his legs, holding them close, and he was rocking backwards and forwards, slowly, obsessively.

"Obi-Wan…"  Now Qui-Gon spoke softly, comfortingly, trying to hide his own horror from the boy.  Even in the shadows Obi-Wan looked more fragile than Qui-Gon had ever seen him.  He took a step closer, projecting calming thoughts, only to be stopped by a guttural growl.

"Stay away."

There was fear and there was anger in those words.  Distressed, Qui-Gon did as he was asked.  Again, he repeated his apprentice's name as gently as he could but the boy did not even look up.  "Let me help you," Qui-Gon tried again.  Nothing.

Qui-Gon studied Obi-Wan as best he could, all the small signs adding up to one frightening conclusion in his mind.  The defensive posture that seemed terrified of touch.  The strong scent of soap, as if Obi-Wan had scrubbed his body over and over.  And the bruises evident on the boy's wrists, the only part of his body not shrouded by a voluminous robe, bruises Qui-Gon suspected were repeated on other parts of Obi-Wan's body.

A fierce anger surged inside Qui-Gon as he wondered who had dared do this to his padawan.  Quickly he quashed it, knowing that Obi-Wan did not need anger now, he needed support, love, someone to lean on and to cry on.

"I am here, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said as gently as possible.  "Let me help you."  He sent a wave of love and affection down their bond, hoping it would penetrate the walls Obi-Wan had erected around his mind.  The reaction he received was the total opposite of what he expected.  Obi-Wan's head snapped up and there was terror in his eyes.

"Stay away!" Obi-Wan cried again but this time Qui-Gon could not.  He crossed the room with three swift strides, gathering Obi-Wan from the floor and seating him gently on his bed.  Qui-Gon tried not to think about how much Obi-Wan was trembling, or how Obi-Wan refused to look at him at all.  Quickly Qui-Gon released his hold, glad to see the shaking subside but concerned that his padawan would not let even him touch him.

This close, Qui-Gon could see red marks on Obi-Wan's neck, and in some places the skin looked rubbed raw.  Sighing, Qui-Gon ached inside to help Obi-Wan, to gather him close in comfort as he did when Obi-Wan was small.  To promise him that monsters weren't real and he would always be protected.  It seemed that monsters were real after all.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon tried for what felt like the hundredth time that morning.  He sensed the boy would not speak to him yet; the wounds were still too fresh.  But Qui-Gon would do what he could to ease the physical pain.  "I would like to attempt a healing trance."  He gingerly reached out to touch Obi-Wan's shoulder, ever so lightly, to achieve the necessary contact.

"Don't touch me!" Obi-Wan near screamed in fright and scooted to the top end of the bed where he recaptured his foetal position.

Suppressing a fresh wave of anger at the monster, Qui-Gon murmured, "I am sorry, my Padawan.  I will not touch you again unless you wish it."  He looked around helplessly, seeking answers where there were none.  "I wish to help you."  Qui-Gon didn't give Obi-Wan the chance to reject the offer as he closed his eyes and reached out with the Force.

He could see the waves of pain radiating from the boy he loved more than anything, an image which caused a slight sob to rise within Qui-Gon.  Everywhere, small abrasions; even Obi-Wan's fingernails looked ragged as if he had attempted to scratch his attacker and push him away.  The young man's lips were bruised, although if it was from the assault or Obi-Wan's later attempts to scrub himself clean, Qui-Gon could not tell.  And there were worse injuries, Qui-Gon soon discovered as he channelled his energy into healing pulses.

"Obi-Wan," he murmured without thinking, feeling pain and outrage.  Qui-Gon did what he could to heal without touching his apprentice and then, while still immersed in Obi-Wan's physical pain, tried to discern the identity of the rapist.  Surely something would have been left behind, the vaguest sense of a presence…but Qui-Gon could find nothing but the boy's own scent and the overpowering smell of soap.

Suddenly, Qui-Gon felt as if someone had kicked him. He quickly pulled back from the healing bond, knowing his presence had become too intrusive and Obi-Wan had every right to push him away.  Opening his eyes, Qui-Gon was surprised to see Obi-Wan looking at him with unimagined terror in his eyes.  Again, Qui-Gon felt the rage within himself rise.

"Obi-Wan, we shall leave this planet right away."

His statement did nothing to quell the fear emanating from the boy.

"I shall report to the Jedi Council that the Zaduuhmians cannot be negotiated with," Qui-Gon tried again, hoping to get through.  "I will not allow this to happen again!"

Obi-Wan dropped his gaze, returning his eyes to his own knees and trembled once more.

"Padawan, please tell me," Qui-Gon implored, "who did this to you?"  He did not expect a response right away and was thus unsurprised by the forthcoming silence.  "I need to know so that steps can be taken; I will not allow those responsible to get away with this!"  Qui-Gon's voice had risen in anger.

And strangely, Obi-Wan began to laugh.  The sound was harsh to his master's ears, it was the laugh of a man who had lost everything and didn't care.  And the cold trickle of fear which he had been trying to suppress all morning suddenly roared back into Qui-Gon's heart.  "There is no punishment you can give," Obi-Wan said bitterly.

"Why, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon begged.  "Tell me – who did this to you?"

Obi-Wan's voice, like his eyes, were dead and empty as he turned to face his master.

"You did."

*

The King stood at the head of the table, gesturing his arms widely over the banquet spread before them.  "Welcome, everyone!" he announced jovially, having already had several drinks and not noticing that the meal was half over.  "Eat, drink, celebrate the Rite of Shadows!"  He lifted his glass and Qui-Gon followed suit, wondering what number drink this was.  He could feel the disapproving glare of his padawan from across the table and sent a brief wave of reassurance through their bond.  //I am still in control, Obi-Wan.  Do not be concerned, I am sure this night will have a positive impact on our negotiations.//

Obi-Wan scowled again, but said nothing.  Qui-Gon received a brief impression along the lines of I-don't-like-the-risk-you're-taking-but-you-are-my-master-and-I-trust-you.  He smiled as he downed another drink and watched it be rapidly replaced by one of several small service-bots who scuttered around the banquet hall.

This time, Qui-Gon experienced a slight light-headedness as he attempted to use the Force to redirect the alcohol to safely pass through his stomach and into waste.  Perhaps he should stop soon.  But then he realised that the King was toasting the Jedi personally.  "Who thought such a stiff race would lower themselves to celebrate with us?  But look, they are here!"

Qui-Gon stood, albeit a little unsteadily, and returned the toast.  "To the greatest, most hospitable King I have ever encountered.  May your Force be bountiful."

His statement earned him a round of applause and after another drink, Qui-Gon flopped back into his chair.  The room was definitely spinning now.  He felt a light touch of loving concern in his mind but brushed it aside.  He was fine.

"It is time for dancing!" the King announced, and to his delight, Qui-Gon found himself quickly pulled to the dance floor by one of the King's attractive guests.  For the first time, the Jedi were being accepted amongst these hostile people.  Qui-Gon danced with exaggerated abandon as did all of the Zaduuhmians and his efforts were rewarded by a string of dance partners.  Qui-Gon hoped Obi-Wan was having as much fun as another beautiful woman swung into his arms.

He spun, accepting another drink as it was offered.  In a bemused way, Qui-Gon realised that it was the alcohol which was allowing him to lose his inhibitions (for no Jedi ever danced in such a provocative manner!) and perhaps he should thank the Force for it.  He felt a brief twinge that Obi-Wan wouldn't be having as much fun because of course the boy would obey his instructions to refrain from the purple muck which tasted a lot better now than it had when he'd had his first glass.

Another round of applause signalled the end of this particular dance.  Breathing heavily, Qui-Gon reluctantly let his partner go, but not without a quick kiss first.  And then he noticed Obi-Wan watching, shaking his head with disapproval.  //We should go, Master,// came the gentle prod.  At least that was what Qui-Gon thought his apprentice said.  The buzzing in his head had diminished the strength and clarity of their bond.

"Master Qui-Gon, a word, please."  One of the Zaduuhmian ambassadors was tapping him on the shoulder.  Qui-Gon grinned at Obi-Wan as if to say, "This could be it!" and felt perfectly justified in ignoring his padawan's request.  After all, the whole purpose of the evening had been to make headway with the treaty.

And after that….

…after that….

…Qui-Gon could remember very little at all.

 
"I shall have the papers drawn up by morning!"

Satisfied smiles, handshakes.

Stumbling.

Obi-Wan there, so caring, so tender, lifting his Master from the floor.

The stairway that was upside-down…

the icy cold that gripped him

"Master, I don't think you should be doing this…"

Fingers roughly yanking on the braid, pulling him closer for a brutal kiss….

…a frightened sob…

"Please…"

Hands tearing at clothes, hands that could not be stopped….

"No, Master, not like this!"

 Nails clawing, one arm responding in kind, trapping the hands above the head…

 flipping him over, then-

Deadened submission as flesh tore and bled.

 and callous disposal when the hunger was satisfied.

"No!" both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan gasped, united however briefly in their horror.  Back in the present, Qui-Gon shook his head violently to rid it of the disturbing images.  Partially they came from his own mind, and partially from Obi-Wan's, who was no doubt trying desperately to exorcise all memory of the previous night.

Shocked, Qui-Gon stared at his padawan.  He swallowed once, twice, unable to think of a single thing he could say to make up for the grievous injury he had caused.  Despite the fact that he could not remember the incident – The incident!  Was that all his mind had reduced it to? – he knew without a doubt that it had happened and that he was responsible.  Obi-Wan's pain told him everything he needed to know.

No wonder Obi-Wan could barely look at him, let alone permit him close.  Qui-Gon had abused him in the worst way possible and betrayed the sacred partnership they held.

"I hate you," Obi-Wan said dully, not even mustering passion in those words.

"You have every right to, Padawan," Qui-Gon replied evenly, trying to control his errant thoughts.  He could not let the situation escalate out of his control, he had already shown an appalling lack of control which had resulted in tragedy.

He loved the boy as a son, there was nothing more than that.  Nothing more than that.  Or was there?  Suddenly very worried, Qui-Gon sent an exploratory tendril into the deep recesses of his own mind, centering on his love for Obi-Wan, and he was horrified at the beginnings of the emotion he found.  A feeling so tiny it would never have been acknowledged by his waking mind.  But obviously it was enough, more than enough.

He quickly slammed down his shields on the errant thought, trying to bury it deep so that it would never surface again.  It was nothing, it should have been nothing!  But it was there and it had surfaced and now things would never be the same.

"I meant what I said before," Qui-Gon began, tentatively, keeping his own gaze straight ahead so that he would not cause Obi-Wan further pain.  "I will remove the threat.  You will never again be harmed in such a manner."

He knew Obi-Wan, despite his silence, was listening.  "I will ask the Council to find you a new master and then I shall resign.  You will not have to see me again."

Part of Qui-Gon wanted Obi-Wan to protest at the pronouncement - their bond had been one of the strongest ever known between master and apprentice.  The rest of Qui-Gon knew that he had no right to want such a defence.   As quickly as he could, without causing further pain, Qui-Gon began to dissolve the bond that still connected them.  Even with Obi-Wan's outright rejection, it was still difficult and would take several days of separation.

"I am sorry, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said and he rose to depart.  "Believe this, and if I could do anything to take back last night, I would."  He dared one last glance at his former padawan, wanting desperately to help, knowing he never could.

As he left the room, Qui-Gon did not hear the pitiful, heartbroken question Obi-Wan uttered.  "Why?"  It was a question neither of them could answer.

*

Qui-Gon took a deep breath and closed his eyes, pausing just outside the entrance to the Jedi Council's chamber.  The next hour would be difficult, to say the least.  But he was here now and he had to say what he believed, no matter how troubling, or what embarrassment, it might cause him.  Qui-Gon could feel the Force emanating from the room before him but his own calm centre was lost.  It had been lost a few days ago and Qui-Gon did not know if he would ever find it again.

Not that it mattered.  Qui-Gon didn't deserve serenity.  He was guilty of abuse, and abuse of the person he loved more than life itself, the person who had trusted him with his life.  He had betrayed Obi-Wan's trust and in the process, possibly destroyed the boy.

He was a failure as a Jedi.  Qui-Gon had believed he was invulnerable, but his actions of that missing night proved that even a Jedi needed to exercise caution in strange situations.  Control of the Force did not mean absolute control.  He had been overconfident and this weakness had led to darkness and an act for which the guilt would remain for the rest of his life.

A gentle mental prod startled Qui-Gon out of his recriminations and he recognised the presence of his old master, Yoda.  The Council was waiting.  Drawing in one more deep breath, Qui-Gon approached the door and stepped through.

Obi-Wan was there.  The sight of the boy stopped Qui-Gon cold.  How could the Council be so cruel as to have them there together?  Then again, the Council did not know what had transpired on Zaduuhm, unless Obi-Wan had told them and Qui-Gon did not believe the boy would have done so so quickly.  Unless a message was sent….

No.  Obi-Wan would not have deliberately tried to cause him trouble with the Council, no matter how much the boy had wished it.  Qui-Gon knew his former apprentice too well.

"Qui-Gon," barked Yoda, drawing his attention back to the present.  "Your attention we require!"

"I am sorry, Master Yoda," he murmured in a respectful tone, bowing slightly.  Qui-Gon then straightened to face the Jedi Council, sensing their disappointment and disapproval.  It was a rare thing for a Master and Padawan to request separation, even rarer when the request was mutual.  Yoda wore his customary grave expression and Mace Windu was frowning.

And Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan was staring straight ahead, not even recognising Qui-Gon's presence.  Qui-Gon wanted nothing more than to go to the boy, draw him into his arms and provide him the comfort he so obviously, desperately needed.  But he did not dare.

Instead, he faced the Council, squaring his shoulders, and resigning himself to his fate.  "Master Yoda, I am not fit to be a Jedi.  I ask that you disavow my right."

"We decide who is to be a Jedi, not you," Yoda replied sagely, his eyes narrowing.  The revered master was probably more than aware of the pain radiating from the pair yet he feigned innocence.

"Then you must accept my resignation," Qui-Gon swiftly countered.  "My conscience will no longer allow me to be a part of this order."

"We cannot accept your resignation without good reason," Mace Windu interrupted gravely.  "Nor can we accept your rejection of your Padawan.  The master apprentice pairing is carefully chosen after much meditation.  We know that you and Obi-Wan are the right combination."

Qui-Gon gravely shook his head, denying what he knew to be true in his heart.  "I can no longer train Obi-Wan."

"Why, Qui-Gon?" Yoda insisted.

Swallowing hard, Qui-Gon prepared himself to tell the truth and accept their condemnation.  "I have wronged Obi-Wan.  I ra-"

"We have irreconcilable differences," interrupted Obi-Wan, speaking for the first time.  Qui-Gon shot him a shocked look.  Even now, after all that had happened, his Padawan was still protecting him and Qui-Gon couldn't help but wonder why.  Perhaps it was the remnant of loyalty, the last gasp of the bond that had meant so much to both of them before he'd ruined it all.

"Hmph," Yoda grunted, clearly dissatisfied with the answer.    "All you have to say on this matter, is that?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan replied.  His voice was low, even, emotionless.  Not even the barest hint of the once mischievous boy remained and Qui-Gon knew it was he who had destroyed that person.  He noticed also how Obi-Wan kept his gaze straight ahead, steady and true, not even wanting to glance at Qui-Gon.

Thankfully, Yoda decided not to press the issue any further.  "Wish you would tell us more, do we," Yoda said, "but accept your mutual decision we must."

"Then I shall take my leave of the Jedi," Qui-Gon said, wanting to get out of the chamber as soon as possible.  His very presence was causing Obi-Wan pain and that was the last thing he wanted to do.  Qui-Gon bowed low, for the last time, and then left before anyone could try and make him change his mind.

*

Yoda watched him leave, a frown on his face.  Qui-Gon was a great Jedi, perhaps the greatest of their time if not for his stubbornness.  He hoped that Qui-Gon would return after a sufficient sabbatical. More than that, he hoped that Qui-Gon would repair his relationship with the boy.  Obi-Wan had been damaged very badly, that much was clear, and traditionally it was up to the Master to repair all injuries encountered on the difficult path to becoming a Jedi.

"Obi-Wan," Yoda said suddenly, bringing the boy and the Council from their inner reflections and back to attention.  "Train you myself, I shall."

Obi-Wan showed no emotion at the pronouncement.  "Yes, my master," he replied evenly and bowed low.

"Begin tomorrow, we shall," Yoda decided.  He did not often take a padawan learner, preferring to teach all young apprentices at the Jedi Temple in class environments and offer advice when necessary.  But Yoda did not want to run the risk of Obi-Wan being hurt any more than necessary.  The boy was already fragile but he knew Yoda, so perhaps the bonding would be a little easier.

After giving Obi-Wan a few more instructions, the apprentice was dismissed.  Yoda gravely looked to his fellow members of the Council.  "You will say nothing of this to the Jedi," he decided.  "Respect their privacy we must."

"Yes," chorused the voices.  Yoda heaved a great sigh and knew that there were dark days ahead.

*

Qui-Gon was in his quarters, collecting a few items to take with him, when the door slid open.  Obi-Wan.  Of course, the boy would want to remove his own things and take up residence near or with his new master, whomever that would be.  For a moment, Qui-Gon was distressed that he hadn't even felt Obi-Wan's approach.  It was further proof of the complete dissolution of their bond.

Nodding a greeting to the boy, Qui-Gon resumed his packing.  He picked up his lightsaber, knowing that he no longer had the right to carry it, but wondering if it should just be left behind or taken as a reminder of what once was, and what he no longer deserved to have.  He felt eyes on him; Obi-Wan was watching his every motion.

"Should I take it with me?" Qui-Gon asked, careful not to let the word Padawan slip from his lips no matter how right it seemed.

Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon for one long moment, yet his haunted blue eyes revealed nothing.  Finally he just shrugged, as if Qui-Gon's actions and decisions meant nothing to him.  Which was exactly the way he should have felt.

"I will be gone in moments," Qui-Gon said, knowing his presence was only causing more pain.  He looked at his lightsaber one last time and then gently replaced it on the table.  It was not his anymore.  That life was over.

Still Obi-Wan stood just inside the entrance.  Qui-Gon had to walk past him to leave.  Shouldering his small bag, the ex-Jedi master took a deep breath.  "Do not dwell on your hatred for me, Obi-Wan.  You will be a great Jedi one day.  If I taught you nothing at all, please, remember that."

He fought the impulse to lay a friendly hand on the boy's arm but even so, Obi-Wan flinched as if it was  anticipated.  Qui-Gon took another slow step, trying desperately to think of parting words that would lessen the tragedy.  But there was nothing he could say and Obi-Wan, silent as a statue, wasn't going to say anything either.

Qui-Gon settled for a murmured, "Goodbye," and then walked away.

Obi-Wan did not turn.  When the door had slid quietly shut, he walked across the room, picked up the abandoned lightsaber, and cried.

-
END.
 
 
 

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