Summary: Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his 23-year-old apprentice are on what is supposed to be a routine mission to the planet Kalla. While there, they meet a girl gifted in the Force and learn something new about the Jedi Order.

by Christina, 2000

As the muted curve of the planet Kalla comes into view beyond the canopy of the shuttle carrying myself and my Padawan, I begin to wonder why we in particular were chosen for this mission. The exquisite blue-tinted planet grows larger against the light pointed backdrop of space as Obi-Wan directs the shuttle to the eastern hemisphere, concentration lining his youthful face.

I feel the urge to reveal my inner musings about the purpose of this mission to my companion, but I say nothing. I must teach my Padawan that every mission the Jedi Council chooses for us is as important as the last, and will be as important as the next. This inner admonition, however, does nothing to quell my restlessness. I am grateful that peace has engulfed the galaxy. But I am bored.

Obi-Wan lands the shuttle flawlessly and I commend his work. He gives me a controlled smile. Since he matured from a boy to a man, it is rare that I see my Padawan truly grin. He is so different from the impish young sprite that convinced me to take him as an apprentice a decade ago. I wonder if my seriousness is wearing off on him. I had entered into the Master-Padawan venture reluctantly, hoping he would teach me as much about laughter and having fun as I planned to teach him about the ways of the Force. I suppose it didn't work out the way I'd planned. He has grown into a handsome young man, a formidable opponent, and a talented Jedi.

He does not laugh much any more.

I don't know what is fun to him.

I find myself hoping that this long stay on Kalla, while pointless at first glance, will serve a greater purpose in the Force. I hope it will bring a light to my Padawan's eyes I have not seen in a long time.

**

Kalla is beautiful. I've always thought it, and this time is no different. University Spaceport is crowded as usual, but I don't mind. I sense apprehension in my Master, and I wonder what is bothering him. In retrospect, I realize this apprehension is nothing new. He has been withdrawn for a while. I make a mental note to talk to him about it when we take our evening meal.

We walk, side by side through the hangar, and I am acutely aware of being a Jedi. The cognition does not come from the Force and its tendency to swirl through me every moment; it's the stares Qui-Gon and I receive as we walk. Now I feel the awareness that others have of me, rather than the awareness I have of myself. It happens whenever I venture outside the Jedi Temple, but I never get used to it.

Still, I look. I appreciate the sheer normalcy of the scattered college students, young men and women that share my age but share nothing of my life experiences. The Jedi code tells me not to feel envy, but I can't help wondering what their lives are like.

Just as they are curious about mine.

I feel a tremor in the Force and I immediately look to my Master to ensure he has felt it too. The noble profile I can see as we walk remains stoic. He does not appear to have felt anything. I open my mouth to mention it, but my intention is thwarted when I sense the Force-tremor once again.

This time, my eyes are drawn to the left, and I see her. I thought Kalla was beautiful, but the planet cannot hold a candle to this luminous woman. I figure her to be about my age, possibly a few years younger, with thick auburn hair that cascades down her back. Even from here I can see her brilliant green eyes. She is angry, that is not hard to recognize. A man, older than myself, has her tiny wrists in his large hands, and I briefly wonder if I should mention this to my Master. Perhaps we should intervene.

I simply watch. My steps have ceased; now I've turned to face the altercation fully. I do not call my Master back, he will feel my absence in the Force. I resist the urge to reach my senses out to hear what they are saying. It is none of my business. We must not use the Force for personal gain.

"Correct, Padawan. Come now."

My Master has taken residence beside me. He answered my unspoken thought and placed a large, strong hand on my shoulder. I am so used to the feeling that it doesn't urge me to move. Instead, I argue.

"Master, I felt her. In the Force."

I don't see, but I feel my Master's smile. He is amused. I almost laugh as he carries his own amusement further. "I'm sure that you felt her Obi-Wan, but I'm not certain it was through the Force."

If the argument I am witnessing hadn't taken a violent turn, I may have allowed a chuckle to pass my lips. Instead, all thoughts of amusement abandon my mind. The man lifts a hand, dropping the beauty's wrist with obvious intent to strike her. I freeze. A million plans of action clutter my senses. I embrace none of them. I barely notice my Master lift his arm before I hear a loud clatter.

**

Violence against those without defense is intolerable to me. As I witness the altercation I realize I must do something to stop this woman from being struck. My hand rises almost of its own volition, but I am too slow to act. The cargo crates stacked behind the violent man come crashing down without my help.

He's released her other wrist and she had enough foresight to leap out of the way of the wooden avalanche. Now she stands, simply watching her attacker flounder beneath several bulk crates. She seems unaware that she has not only mine and my Padawan's attention, but everyone else in the immediate vicinity's. I try to read the expression on her face, beyond the obvious anger, and I can't. Not without the help of the Force.

I briefly consider brushing her mind, just slightly, but I withhold. My Padawan came to this crossroads only moments ago and he chose the honorable path. I, as his teacher, am obligated to do the same.

The mind I do opt to touch is Obi-Wan's. He is still fully centered on the girl. I am not surprised. I realize that he thinks I was the cause of the falling crates. He believes I saved her. He is wrong.

**

I can feel the Jedi's presence without turning to look their way. I've felt them since they landed in their Lambda-class shuttle. Judiciously, I try to ignore them. But they're staring openly now.

Of course, everyone's staring openly now.

But none of them tried to help. No one even thought the little scene was more than entertainment except the Jedi. Of course, it was their job to care. So whether or not they really did was open to interpretation. Nobility, after all, is relative.

I feel one of the Jedi so strongly it was as though he is standing right next to me. That's saying a lot considering I don't put my Force talents to much use. They are latent, vacillating at best. Somehow though, I know the Jedi I feel can feel me too.

The connection with the Jedi is an important one. I know this. I'm not sure why, but I don't doubt it will come to me soon enough. Not that I have any intention of meeting him. I want to get the hell out of here. I watch Brock flailing under the boxes. I don't have the slightest clue as to how I managed to fling them on top of him, but I'm glad I did. Even though he's screaming at me from beneath the pile of rubble, I feel triumphant.

I realize I should be regretting my actions, but I'm not. Maybe I will later, but now, I'm late for work.

**

I know I'm sulking, but I can't help it. My Master is obviously frustrated with my behavior. It amused him at first, but now I know, as he does, it's gone too far.

She just left. Turned around and fled from the hangar, leaving an infuriated man and many gawking bystanders behind. I didn't even know her name, yet I can't shake the feeling of loss. It's silly, I know. My Master tells me so. I believe he used the word dramatic at one point.

But I don't care. Somehow, we're connected. I can't shake the feeling. And it's Master Qui-Gon who is always telling me to be mindful of my feelings.

Even in the enormous guest suite of the Royal Garden Palace, I feel trapped. I am not looking forward to the peace talks that are to commence this afternoon. It is the purpose for our mission, as representatives of the Jedi Order of the Republic. Which means I will sit there and observe, while Qui-Gon offers the occasional snippet of wisdom. The talks will go on ad nauseam for weeks.

It will not be pleasant.

"I realize this is not the most exciting mission, Padawan, but it is important nonetheless."

My Master has read into my thoughts again. I am terrible at keeping them hidden. He tells me this constantly. You think loudly, Padawan. I'm not sure it bothers him as much as he lets on. I think he feels honored that I feel no shame to hide my thoughts from him. I don't see the need. My Master understands me fully, even when I do not understand myself.

Loud thoughts get me admonished more than the average Padawan. But I don't mind. My Master sees a lot of himself in me. This I know. This I take as the greatest of compliments.

"Forgive me, Master but I do not understand the importance of peace talks during peacetime."

I say this with the utmost comfort. Where Master Yoda would tell me not to question the Jedi Council's decision, I know Master Qui-Gon will attempt an explanation. Such is the nature of our relationship. I trust him with everything I am.

As I expect, he responds in that buttery smooth voice, ever the wise Jedi.

"Padawan, remember that foresight is our greatest ally."

**

I know my Padawan's thoughts are not where they should be. I sense he thinks of the girl from the hanger. I find myself wondering about her as well, but not for the same reasons he does.

Her physical beauty is impossible to miss, and being a young man of 23, Obi-Wan is bound to appreciate such loveliness. Still, his attention has never been as abbreviated as this. He insists he felt her through the Force. At first, I felt no such Force-bond. But those crates did not fall on their own. When they tumbled, I did feel a slight wave in the serenity of the Force surrounding me.

Therefore, my question is how? How does a girl, gifted in the Force, reside in the Corporate Sector and escape notice of the Jedi Council?

I know, Padawan's interest or not, I have not seen the last of her.

The peace talks are finally winding down. I shift my attention from that of my Padawan back to the business at hand. I admonished Obi-Wan for his resistance to this mission, but I myself feel the same frustration. I felt it arriving on Kalla and it resurges now. These talks are nothing any other Jedi could not have handled. I am tempted again to question the Council on their reasons for sending myself and my Padawan. We are two of their greatest Jedi. Our talents are wasted in Convocation Room B.

I can no longer fault Obi-Wan for journeying elsewhere in his mind. He has no place here. He is decoration. He is status.

If there are two things Obi-Wan hates to be thought as, it's decoration and status.

I decide to allow him to venture out alone after the evening meal. He seems to enjoy socializing with others his age outside the capacity of a Jedi. Perhaps he will seek out the girl. Perhaps he will truly smile.

Perhaps he will burst out laughing tonight.

An old Jedi who cares so deeply of his apprentice's happiness can only hope.

**

When the Jedi from the hangar enter the cantina, my first reaction is to panic. Are they locating me through the Force? Do they know who I am? What I am? I have no idea what they know and what they don't. I'm not strong enough to reach into their minds, plus, they'll feel my attempt. I do the one thing I know I can, carefully erecting the shields of my own thoughts as they make their way across the crowded cantina toward the bar.

Toward me.

I am the only bartender on duty. That means I actually have to talk to them.

I put it off as long as possible. It completely freaks me out when I hear the call for attention in my head. Excuse me, miss.

Yes, I am going to have to talk to these Jedi. My biding time is over. I walk toward them, each step feeling heavier than the last. The bar that usually seems roomy no matter how crowded it is suddenly feels small, cramped. My head hurts. I should have something to tell them, but I don't.

I face them, putting on my brightest smile. It is the first time I've actually looked at them. I am surprised at how attractive they are. The older one has long dark hair peppered with gray and ice blue eyes that seem to look right through me. Though my mental shields are up, I believe he can still feel everything I feel; like he can experience my emotions even before I experience them myself. He is big, I can tell even as he sits on the barstool. He is broader than most men, lean and powerful. Muscles stand rigid beneath his tunic, every nerve tensed and ready for action. I sense he is uncomfortable in this environment.

The other one is young, probably my age. He is the Padawan, the braid not being necessary to tell me that much. It is in his presence, humbled by his large and foreboding Master. I sense he is formidable on his own, but next to the elder Jedi, he knows his place. And he acts it. I sense his duty, his honor, his obligation to the Code. He is good looking, if not conventionally so. Deep blue eyes hold as much seriousness as they do youthful curiosity. Brown hair is cut in the traditional Jedi Apprentice style, causing him to look younger than he probably is. The lines in his brow tell of experiences that surpass his years. A strong, chiseled jaw reveals his maturity, the cleft in his chin giving an air of impish charm.

My automatic smile becomes genuine. He smiles back.

**

Her smile is brighter than the twin suns of Tatooine. I can't recall ever seeing anything more inspiring. The long hair that flowed free earlier in the day is now pulled back in a high tail atop her head. Her eyes shine even brighter than before. They almost burn a hole though me. She is definitely Force sensitive. Mental shields are firmly in place. I shouldn't have tried to brush her mind, but the instinct is automatic when our eyes connect. She was prepared for that. I got nowhere.

I hear my Master ordering R'alla mineral water with a twist of Kalla starfruit. She looks away from me, and the smile fades slightly. I can't help but feel pride swell in my chest. Master Qui-Gon gives me a sideways glance. It's my turn to order. They are both looking at me expectantly now. I think it's been silent way too long.

Now I'm embarrassed. I fight to keep the blush from creeping up my cheeks. I want to smile at her again, but it's more difficult this time. My heartbeat sounds like a Corellian freighter in my ears. I wonder if they can hear it also. I feel a pull to the girl stronger than ever before. I've got to do something about this.

I hastily order a Corellian lager. I know my Master doesn't like it when I consume alcohol; it numbs the senses. But I don't care. I need the distraction.

Thankfully, a few seconds later, the girl turns and leaves.

**

Surely being a young man of 23 in constant companionship of an old man of 58 is frustrating. I shouldn't have come. I am beginning to wonder why Obi-Wan insisted. I suspect he didn't want to hurt my feelings. The first night on a new planet always merited exploration together.

Now I feel completely out of place. Something strange is happening to Obi-Wan. I'd like to chalk it up to hormonal interest in the girl. But I'm not sure anymore. I don't want to jump to conclusions.

She had presence of mind enough to construct barriers into her thoughts, which tells me three things: she is force-sensitive, she has enough knowledge of her power to execute it, and she doesn't want Obi-Wan and I anywhere near her innermost musings.

I begin to realize we should take the hint. I get the distinct feeling my Padawan will not be that easy to convince.

His eyes haven't left her since she went to get our drink orders.

I had to ask. It takes a few moments for him to tear his eyes away from the female bartender, but after a few long moments he does. A light is present in his eyes. I realize he is happy.

"We always explore new places together on our missions, Master. Why should this be any different?"

He is attempting to sound innocent, like he hadn't expected the question. It isn't working. I chuckle softly.

He speaks again before I can respond. "I don't believe the choice of this cantina was mere coincidence, Master. I'm being drawn to her through the Force."

Before I can answer, she approaches, setting our drinks on the bar in front of us. She smiles, her eyes lingering on Obi-Wan a moment beyond polite professionalism. She manages to tear her gaze away long enough to key in the order on the electrotab console. A tiny, manicured finger taps its top as she rewards us with another bright grin. The tail of her hair swings as she walks away.

I feel my Padawan's gaze on me. He is expecting a comment. He is impatient.

"Obi-Wan."

I use his name rarely, and I say it with such exasperation even rarer still. But I can't help it. If he has a crush, fine. It doesn't mean it's Force-driven.

I state this. He frowns.

"But Master, there is a connection. I can feel it."

I shrug. "Perhaps it is your interest in the girl. Perhaps you're feeling things that aren't there." I know continuing on this route of conversation will hurt his feelings. I realize the girl is Force-sensitive. I understand she may be bonded to my Padawan in some way. But I have no evidence to support this. I will not support such a conclusion until I do. I will not allow my Apprentice to be hurt any more than absolutely necessary in his life.

"Master, you are the one that tells me to be mindful of my feelings," Obi-Wan argues. He sounds hurt. His eyes convey it. I feel guilty.

I study the drink before me. Condensation beads along its sides, one lone droplet of water trickling downward and finding the Endor Siennawood of the bar beneath it. I am acutely aware of Obi-Wan's stare faltering, and his attention turning to his own drink. He takes a large gulp of the ale and I feel his grimace. Corellian lager is strong. Perhaps stronger than he realized.

No more words will be spoken until I respond to his comment. He is right. I do tell him to be mindful of his feelings. Perhaps I am dismissing this too easily. There are things I would like to know about the girl as well. But I am not going to press the issue. If the Force is working to bring our paths into connection with hers, it will become clear. We will learn what we need to know.

For now, she seems to want us to leave her alone. So we will. These will be our only drinks in this cantina tonight.

**

This planet is what I remember it. University Row is a bustling hive of human and alien species alike; restaurants, bars, shops, tapcafes and coffee houses. There are crowds of people, even at this late hour, and I am tiring of the rude stares I continue to get as I stroll the sidewalks.

I am in a bad mood. I know it, and my Master knew it. He suggested retiring to the Palace for meditation. I declined. He declined to be in my presence for the remainder of the evening. We argued a bit when he asked me to leave the cantina with him. He maintained the girl did not want us around. I asked why.

I always ask why.

I want to ask her why.

My Master knows this. He is amused. Which serves to infuriate me further. He is writing this connection off as a crush. I do not wish to join you in brooding about a complete stranger all evening, Obi-Wan. So he retired for the evening.

Fine. I prefer to brood alone.

I wind my way back over the dusty cobblestone streets, following the path I took when I left The Pier Cantina. I hope to be drawn to her once again. This time, I will speak with her. I will, at the very least, learn her name.

The sensation of danger hits me like a ton of bricks. I nearly double over with the sheer force of it. My hand immediately flies to my lightsaber, but I restrain from drawing it. Instantly, my mind reaches out to the connection with my Master. He is there, deep in a meditational trance. He is safe. I extend my senses further, deliberately searching for the girl. The Force buzzes around me like an angry insect. I feel tense.

I can't relax. I can't center.

Perhaps I did it without realizing, perhaps it was the work of the Force, but my feet are propelled forward, strangely dragging my body with it. I allow myself to be tugged by an invisible string toward the alley behind the bar. It takes a few moments for my eyes to focus, even when I stretch my senses outward again.

The shadow huddled in a dark corner causes my heart to flip flop in my chest. My hand once again reaches to my lightsaber, this time I allow myself to react to the instinct, drawing the weapon and igniting it's blue blade with a soft hiss. The faint glow allows me to see.

It's the girl. She appears to be alone. Knees are drawn to chest, arms wrapped tightly around legs, head dipped, face hidden. I want to approach her quickly, but I withhold, not intending to scare her. Instead, I keep my lightsaber to the side, for illumination only, and my Force senses extended as fully to her as possible. She is still shielding her thoughts, but I can feel her apprehension. And something else... exhaustion? I can't tell for sure.

I am at her feet now. My booted toes flush with hers. She still has not looked up. From this short distance I can tell she is crying. Without the help of the Force, I wouldn't have been able to hear the soft sobbing, but the shaking of her shoulders is unmistakable. My heart goes out to her.

And I don't even know her name.

I take one last glance around before kneeling before her, reaching out once again with the Force and sending a comforting thought. I want her to know I won't harm her. It doesn't occur to me until later that if she is Force-sensitive, she would know this. I deactivate my lightsaber, which leaves us in very-near complete darkness. She still hasn't lifted her head, so the loss of light is meaningless to her.

I do think, however, the sobbing has stopped.

I'm not quite sure what to do, so I ask the first thing that comes to my mind.

"What's your name?"

I think she laughs at this. At least, her head lifts and a small smile plays about those beautiful lips. I blush red with embarrassment. I meant to ask if she was alright, but my mouth and tongue had completely different ideas. Oh well, at least I got her to smile.

Sort of.

Her eyes are still shimmering with tears, and she brings her hands up to her face to wipe at them impatiently.

"You want to know my name?" she asks me, in that sweet, melodic voice of hers.

I want to ask her to never leave my side. Thankfully, I refrain. Instead, I shift slightly in my uncomfortable crouch and look around the alleyway once again. I feel nothing amiss in the Force anymore, but I tell myself that I can never be too sure. The Dark Side is hard to see. And now, crouching before the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on in a darkened alleyway, I've never felt more vulnerable.

"I'm sorry," I finally say, thinking my voice sounds strange as it surfaces on the night air. It's a chilly night, and I realize the rumors that its always temperate on Kalla may be slightly exaggerated. "I meant to ask if you were okay."

She smiles, brightly this time, and I feel my heart skip a few more beats. Knowing this girl could be detrimental to a man's health. I can't help but smile back. It fades, however, when I notice for the first time the deep purple bruise swelling near her left eye. I am caught completely off guard. My face must show how startled I am because she reaches out with those small, soft hands of hers and touches my arm.

The buzz of the Force grows so loudly in my head, I can barely think straight. She must feel it too, because she swiftly moves her hands away, twisting and curling them into her own lap.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, eyes cast downward once more. "I don't know what it is..."

She doesn't explain, but I understand completely. I nod slightly, unable to do anymore. "I don't either," I mutter quickly, more pressing things on my mind. I shift again, stealing one more glance around the alley. "You're hurt. Let me help."

She seems about to resist me, and I'm already thinking up ways to convince her to allow my services. But she pauses, perhaps reasoning with herself, perhaps the pain in her left eye doing the reasoning for her. I am sure I see a subtle wince.

I stand, holding my hands out to help her up. She accepts them, I think gratefully. She's balancing on pretty wobbly legs, they are smudged with dirt and several bruises are beginning to appear. She's been attacked or gotten into a fight, I gather this much. I want all the details now. But I quell my impatience.

A slight breeze rustles my robe, alerting me to its presence. I am so used to its weight against my shoulders I barely notice it anymore. She is shivering. I slip the heavy wool from my frame and hand it to her as unceremoniously as possible. I don't want her to refuse it. She is only wearing a skirt, too short in my opinion, and a short-sleeved top. She's got to be cold.

The hesitation is slight, but she finally smiles and takes it. It dwarfs her tiny body, and she laughs bitterly as she struggles to find her hands at the ends of the sleeves. When she finally does, she holds her hand out.

"I'm Aesa Tyl."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi. It's nice to meet you."

She smiles, as though mildly amused. I suppose it is amusing since our paths have been crossing all day and we have only just been introduced. Several passersby stop at the mouth of the alley, peering into the darkness. I feel Aesa tense at my side.

"Let's go," I encourage, pulling her by the elbow out the other side. My senses are on full alert, my hand resting not lazily on my lightsaber. Once we reach the street, I look around. It's not as crowded as I'd expected, which makes me much more comfortable but seems to make her jumpy and circumspect.

I get the distinct feeling she is looking for someone.

"Are you in trouble?" I ask.

She turns her head to me, her face shrouded in the shadows of the hood of my cloak she's drawn. She seems to study me for a moment, and I briefly feel her mind touching mine. I hope that she senses only the protection I seek to give her. What she finally says in response to my question nearly causes me to fall over.

"No, but you are."

**

Meditations are never as calming as I wish them to be when my Padawan is out and about. I can never quite get deep enough into trance to reap its full benefit. When I feel the Force around me begin to pulse with extra energy, I know I must emerge from my relaxed state.

Obi-Wan has returned.

He is not alone. The girl he has been so enamored with since we landed on Kalla is with him. She is shrouded in his cloak, holding it about her slight body like a life preserver. They are inside, where I've made it rather warm, yet she keeps it on.

I stand, curious. They do not look happy.

Upon closer observation, I realize the reason she keep the brown wool about her body, its hood drawn to hide her face. She carries a deep purple bruise and a small gash below her left eye. It is beginning to swell. My parental instincts immediately jolt me into action.

I am moving toward her before Obi-Wan is given the chance to introduce me. He does, ignoring the fact that he is now at my back. He tells me her name is Aesa Tyl. I search the archives of my mind for any recognition, but there is none. Now, in the enclosed space of the sleeping quarters of the guest suite, I can feel her through the Force as my Padawan could earlier. She is a fairly strong presence in it. I wonder how I could have neglected this fact earlier.

The only pleasantry I manage is a small, laconic smile. She flinches back when I reach for the hood of the cloak, intending to draw it behind her head.

"Master."

My Padawan is apparently already feeling protective of her. I draw my hand back, chagrined.

"I only want to treat your wound, Miss Tyl."

Through the Force, I can feel her apprehension. I also sense something else...something elusive. She hides her thoughts well. Her feelings are a bit easier to read, but even those are inconclusive. I hope she has agreed to accompany my Padawan home with the intent of telling him a bit more about her.

As though sizing me up, she lets her gaze flit across my face. I keep my mind open, in case she wants to brush it with the Force. She will only find noble intentions there. If she does take part in my thoughts, I can't feel it. Finally, she releases the cloak to her shoulders.

"Obi-Wan, get me the medi-kit from the fresher."

She revealed nothing in the short time it took me to clean her wound. Now, as she freshens up in an adjacent room, my Padawan practically pounces on me.

I can't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Yes Padawan, I feel her connection to the Force." I silently wonder if Obi-Wan is right, and that the girl was brought to us for a higher purpose. The question now, is, what? "What happened?"

I feel Obi-Wan's apprehension rise through our connection.

"What happened?" I repeat, this time more firmly.

That grabs his attention. He glances surreptitiously toward the closed door the girl has disappeared through several moments ago. Finally, he turns back to me. He explains how he found her, which I realize doesn't explain much at all. He does mention one thing that catches my attention beyond all else.

Aesa barely steps two yards out the door before I corner her like a wild animal. I barely notice she has changed into a pair of Obi-Wan's sleep pants, the tie at the waist not doing much to hold them up.

"I borrowed these," she murmurs, looking past me. "I hope you don't mind."

I don't see, but I imagine my Padawan nods. She smiles. I realize that she likes him. I would be happy for him, but that is the furthest thing from my mind at this moment.

"You told my Padawan he is in danger," I demand, perhaps a little too firmly. She turns her gaze to me—finally—and gives me a look. I suppose I would have understood the meaning behind it if I were younger and far more up with the times. But I don't, so I merely look back. This rewards me a soft smile.

She really is pretty.

"Jedi Master Jinn, I must be allowed to explain myself fully." She looks from myself to Obi-Wan and back again. She is using my name, but unequivocally addressing both of us. It is clear my Padawan has gotten no more explanation than I have.

I find myself unsettled. I would rather just tackle the danger part first, and have her fill in the blanks later. But she seems to like Obi-Wan, and she doesn't seem too nervous for his safety right now. I suppose I can take a few moments to listen.

Always the perfect gentlemen, my Padawan and I both wait for her to sit before we follow suit. She falters just slightly, and I wonder how many perfect gentlemen she runs into around here. Finally, she sits, choosing the rest chair near the center of the room. She pulls her long legs up beneath her and settles a pillow in her lap. Obi-Wan and I both choose the large couch facing the rest chair. Once settled into the plush cushions, she has our full attention.

"Master Jedi," she begins, addressing solely myself once more, but gazing at Obi-Wan in turn. "Have you heard of the Jedi Observers?"

Jedi Observers. It rings a far away bell, but I can't grasp its concept. "Perhaps," I mutter, but shake my head. "I'm not quite certain."

She nods, as though expecting this. "Jedi Observers are those Jedi who receive images or messages of the future through the Force. They are given this gift with the purpose of serving a greater good...of acting upon those messages in attempt to dissuade injustice."

I feel Obi-Wan's inquisition moments before he voices it. Perhaps she did too. I cannot tell how strong this young lady is in the Force just yet. It is disconcerting.

"I thought those were called Jedi Dreamers?"

She smiles at my Padawan in a way that indicates it is a common misconception. He smiles back. Moreso, he grins. I realize he likes her... a lot.

"Observers do not receive their visions while in slumber," she clarifies, her tone gentle. "Further, they only receive visions of the location they're in. I've been told they are a special breed. One generation of Jedi may only see two or three Observers in their time."

Silence envelops us all for a moment. I use it to center myself, gathering the Force around me for guidance. I distinctly feel the need for the girl we've met to explain further. We are meant to know why she has been brought to us.

"Go on, Aesa," I murmur quietly.

Obi-Wan nods his agreement. His emotions have shifted slightly, though I can't quite grasp their meaning. I wonder if he's felt the purpose of her appearance now. He and the girl are somehow bonded through the Force, he's made that clear to me every chance he's gotten. Perhaps the reason is becoming evident.

"My father was a powerful Jedi who fell to the Dark Side." Her tone his shifted into slight embarrassment and a hint of betrayal. "I was taken from my mother and raised in the Temple until I was sixteen. In those years, it became clear that my talents were those of an Observer. Classroom teachings became difficult for the Masters because I could sense the answers of tests."

My Padawan's snort startles me. "One would wish all Jedi students had such talent."

Aesa laughs in return, then shakes her head sadly. I feel Obi-Wan's eyes burning holes in the side of my head. I know what he is dying to ask me. He wonders if this is as much surprise to me as it is to him. Often, he thinks because I am in the ranks of Masters, I must know all of the politics that go on behind the Temple walls. I prefer not to. I prefer to stay off-world. Which is why I do not sit on the Council. I do not know the inner workings of the Order and I do not choose to.

"Observers do not serve the Jedi Order as yourself," Aesa continued. "You travel the galaxy upholding peace and justice in worlds riddled with problems. We travel to peaceful worlds, waiting for some sort of vision or warning of disorder or unrest."

"And you do not have a Master?" I interject.

She shakes her head sadly. "No Master Qui-Gon, I do not. I never became a Padawan, nor will I reach the ranks of Knight. Jedi Observers are just that, Observers. No more, no less." She pauses, green eyes blinking back moisture. "It is a very lonely life, I'm afraid."

My Padawan shifts, I sense the discomfort radiating from him. "Why are Jedi Observers kept secret from other Jedi?" he asks.

Aesa shrugs. "The only explanation I have ever been given is that Jedi Knights and Jedi Observers are always allies but rarely a team. Their paths do not cross often, and one should not be relied upon by the other to resolve disputes."

"I don't understand," Obi-Wan mutters softly.

"I don't either," the girl replies.

Hurt tinges both their voices. I wonder if I am supposed to have the all-wise, all-knowing answer to this. I do not. I myself was unfamiliar with the Jedi Observers and their role in the galaxy. I recall hearing rumors of beings with such talents, but they were idle, and never connected to the Jedi Temple, so I'd never paid much attention.

I believe the Council would not be against this meeting. The Force tells me this. So I do not have an answer for them. I simply say, "Connections are made between beings when the Force wishes it." Both nod, and I am satisfied with my answer. I continue, "You said my Padawan was in danger. Is it something you foresaw?"

Aesa resettles herself about the chair with graceful movements. She leans forward, her eyes suddenly glinting with seriousness. I feel my heart skip several beats. Touching her mind with the Force only reveals to me that she is about to initiate critical information. That much I could tell from her expression.

"Obi-Wan, just before you found me in that alley, I had a vision." She spoke delicately, her hand involuntarily moving to the fresh synthi-flesh beneath her left eye. "It was a sentient being, but I don't recognize the species. It was evil. I knew that from the vision, and I confirmed it when it confronted me in the alley."

"Is that who injured you?" I ask, leaning backward and crossing my arms over my chest.

Her hand retreats back to her lap, fingers intertwining with each other. She nods slightly.

"Did it attack you?" my Padawan asks, sounding slightly more than acrimonious. In truth, he sounds like he wants to beat this thing senseless, though I don't entertain the thought long enough to allow it to give me a chuckle.

Aesa only shrugs half-heartedly, her head tipping and allowing its tail of hair to drape across one slim shoulder. "More or less," she mutters. "I fought it off without much trouble, but then, it wasn't after me, it was after you."

**

They haven't asked me why I don't carry a lightsaber. I would think that would be the first question from beings who rely on the weapon more days than not in their lives. But, as I watch them both sitting on the couch across from me, it dawns on me that it hasn't crossed the mind of either one.

Qui-Gon leans forward, looking like a graceful, noble lion. His blue eyes pierce through me. I've noticed a pattern. He studies a person, for just a moment, which is long enough for a Jedi, before speaking to them. It makes you feel like he knows you. Probably keeps him from asking stupid, unnecessary questions as well.

"Why does it want Obi-Wan?" he asks, the concern for his Padawan evident in his voice.

Relaying my vision point for point is easier than I expect. Recalling what I see always seems harder than it turns out to be. I find it's even easier to have someone to tell it to. I'd gotten into the habit of writing the information down on a personal data pad as it came to me. As if there was any chance I might forget even a portion of any vision. They were my life...haunting me.

Unfortunately, I don't have the answers the Jedi seek. The Dark Side is hard to see. I know the being's physical attributes, but not its thoughts. I know it is evil, but I can't speak of its motivations.

I saw it in my mind only minutes before it appeared before me. It asked specifically about Obi-Wan. It threatened. I barely had my hand to my hip where my lightsaber should have been before it attacked. Claws flared and caught the flesh beneath my left eye as I realized I was not armed. I cried out in alarm, finding the wail give way to helpless silence. Fortunately, the Force was on my side, and I was not the evil sentient's ultimate target. I was merely an obstacle.

I couldn't even tell the Jedi if it carried a weapon.

After my vision and the attack, right around the time Obi-Wan found me, it became apparent why I felt so connected to him. The Force had chosen me to warn him, possibly saving his life. I just wished I could tell them more.

Perhaps through this very bond, the Padawan felt my regret. He stands, taking the few steps toward my lounger and kneeling in front of it. His hands float up to my bent knees and rest there. It was a familiar gesture, one that felt entirely natural. I couldn't help but smile at him.

"I apologize for all of the questions my Master and I have and probably will continue to ask you. I don't want you to feel like you are failing us if you cannot answer them."

He seems about to say more when Qui-Gon rises from his seat on the couch, stretching with all of the nobility and grace one would not expect to see in such a large man. He moves to the portable wetbar and pours three cups of tea.

"My Padawan is right, Aesa," he grumbles in that low voice of his. "We are grateful for your assistance and I'm sure that you have told us everything you recall. I know that you are tired, but—"

I nod. Obi-Wan still has not moved, and I find my hands covering his of their own accord. I know what Qui-Gon was going to say next.

"We must contact the Council immediately."

**

Sleep would not come easy for me this night. Not that I can be blamed. The reason for my restlessness is twofold: the discovery of a threat during an otherwise peaceful mission, and the Jedi Observer who had discovered it. The fact that the Jedi Council is deeper and more political a body than I'd ever imagined is something I can barely wrap my mind around. To know that other Jedi travel the world on their own, watching, seeing...only to be discovered by another through the Force, makes the already impossibly big galaxy seem gargantuan.

It makes me fear for Aesa Tyl.

The Jedi Temple doesn't churn out half-wits, or less than standard warriors. I know she is well-trained and can fend for herself. Surely the Council would not leave a girl of her age without guidance if they thought it dangerous. She'd revealed to us that she was in constant contact with the Council regarding her visions.

In fact, the Council was contacted tonight. They instructed her to remain in the company of myself and Qui-Gon until the threat was eliminated.

I am happy about that. Rationalizations abound my mind, and still I worry for her. I want to watch her. I want to protect her. I just don't know how.

From the pallet I am laying upon, I can hear my Master's snores. I am used to them. Having adjoining rooms was supposed to be a luxury on this mission. Usually Qui-Gon and I are forced to share whatever quarters are available, if there are any. Now, Aesa is in one room, Qui-Gon and I in the other, the adjoining door standing slightly ajar; the girl's request. Only now in the recesses of night do I feel comfortable reaching out to brush her mind with the Force.

Shock abates my senses as I find her alert... awake.

My bare feet hit the cool wooden floor and I'm padding silently toward the open door. Whether or not going to her in the middle of the night is appropriate may have entered my mind fleetingly, but I don't bother to grasp it. If anything, I've probably ignored it purposely. I make a mental note to meditate long and hard on my actions later.

She is already out of bed, though I'm not sure if she's been that way, or if she just got up upon sensing my presence. I am sure that she did sense me, though she makes no indication. Standing at the cut glass doors that lead out onto the balcony, she appears deep in thought. My robe is pulled tightly about her shoulders, a small hand gripping its seams tightly shut. Laughter bubbles to my lips but does not escape as I ponder what I shall do if Qui-Gon and I do not get her a robe of her own.

She didn't seem to mind Qui-Gon's request that she stay tonight. I even sensed a bit of relief when he insisted. But now, in her absence of sleep, I wonder if she would rather be at home. I remind myself it is not my place to delve into her thoughts, though she is not shielding them as she did most of the eve. Jedi or not, common courtesy reaps reward.

The obvious is not the best opener, but an opener it is, and she turns to me, finally acknowledging my presence. She smiles. She seems to do that a lot. I don't sense any unusual amount of happiness in her. Perhaps it is her way of being polite. Common courtesy reaps reward.

"I've got a lot running through my mind," she replies. I notice a hint of wistfulness in her intonation.

By two long strides, I pull my body adjacent to hers, standing flush with the window and looking out at the dusky purple hills of the Royal Gardens beyond. Despite the cloak, trembles course through her body. I focus on my surroundings and find myself quite warm. Temperature, however, is only one of many reasons one may be trembling, I remind myself.

"Anything you want to talk about?" I ask.

She chuckles. It is sweet to my ears, but intended to be bitter nonetheless. "I feel as if I've talked all night," she says softly, dragging her gaze from the hills beyond and bringing them to rest on my face. "I wish I could be at peace."

The sadness in her voice takes my heart and shatters it into a million pieces. I want to draw her into my arms and hold her until she finds tranquillity. I almost do. Thankfully, I stop myself.

Am I so arrogant to think I am the one who can bring such a thing?

My meditation list will be long before the night is through.

"Does what you told Master Qui-Gon and I today have anything to do with the argument earlier in the hangar?"

I am as surprised as she looks. I had no idea such a question would pass my lips until it did. But I was wondering about it...when I found her in the alleyway it was the first thought to cross my mind.

She shakes her head no. "That was just a stupid argument with a stupid guy I used to date. He..." she inclines her head and looks up into my eyes, sudden shyness taking over her pretty features. A blush colors her cheeks. "Forget it. Doesn't matter."

Now, I am more curious than before. I wonder what type of man wins the affections of Aesa Tyl. And how that same deserving man raises his hand to her? Why had they stopped dating? What had she done? He done?

I realize I'm going to make myself crazy with questions. Thankfully, any more inquisitions tumble from my head when a deep sigh escapes her lips and settles on the air around us. I turn my body to face her.

"I didn't have my lightsaber with me today, Obi-Wan," she begins, the shaking I'd first noticed in her small frame now surfacing through her voice as well. "I don't usually carry it with me. I mean, usually I see them in my head and I find them, not the other way around. This is the first time..."

Her voice is steadily rising, eyes studying my face nervously. This time I do not talk myself out of it, pulling her to me in a gentle embrace. She accepts and I find myself breathing a noiseless sigh of relief. We stand there, still and silent with only the lavender glow of the full Kalla moon filtering around us. For a moment, I would bet the Force that we are all there is.

Then, a shiver, greater than the others, shakes her violently from my arms. Her hands move up and flutter somewhere in the vicinity of her temples. Eyes squeeze shut, form doubling over from the waist.

"Aesa!"

I have no idea what to do. She is moaning, as if in great pain. My first reaction is to go to her, but she swats me furiously away. She is on the floor now, head clutched between small, manicured hands. I kneel before her, my hands encasing her forearms. I don't want to pull them away from her head, but I feel I need to touch her. To connect.

Calming waves of the Force roll off of me, washing over her like the first rains of spring. She settles slightly. Sobs choke her throat and she sways, back and forth, forth and back, like a frightened child. I manage to get my arms all the way around the tight ball her body has made. It is awkward, very awkward, but I know nothing else to do.

My Master's presence has the tendency to fill a room. When he enters, I know, and I am comforted. I suppose it's too much to hope for that he has the same effect on the girl in my arms.

He kneels next to me, callused hands clasping before him, elbows resting on knees. He looks ready to meditate. Aesa has calmed even further, moans now muting into soft whimpers of receding pain. She shows no signs of pulling away, nestling her head even further into the folds of my tunic.

I use no voice to speak to my Master.

Moments later, as my Master's large hand rests against the back of her head, Aesa stirs, pulling away from me. I ignore the sense of loss that evades me as she retreats. She doesn't go far, scooting several feet backwards but remaining on the floor. I do too, shifting myself into a more comfortable position. I realize we must be a sight, three Jedi sitting in a grand room full of plush furniture on the polished wood floors.

Qui-Gon strokes her head, I assume using the contact to calm her further. I hope he's thought to recede the pain that is obvious in her face. She winces slightly, then relaxes. I realize my back is coiled tense, like a rattler ready to strike. I force myself to calm.

"You had a vision," Qui-Gon states needlessly, and I briefly wonder if Aesa thinks we are not insightful Jedi at all but common masters of the obvious.

She doesn't respond. She doesn't have to. A soft whoosh of air escapes her lips as she works to grasp the situation. Her eyes float from mine to my Master's and back again. Her mind is open fully and I do not hesitate to brush her thoughts using the Force.

If I were standing, I would have jumped back in fear.

She is scared.

As if she is reading my own mind, she echoes my thoughts.

"I'm scared."

"Why?" Qui-Gon answers, glancing back into the adjoining room. I wonder if he is thinking about the location of his lightsaber. I know I am. Sleep clothes do not attribute themselves to weapon holds.

"The vision, just now. The creature is coming. It followed me here. When...when it attacked me it wasn't trying to hurt me, it was marking me. I lead it to you."

She starts crying again. No sobs this time, just silent tears rolling down her blushed cheeks. Big, wet eyes—pools of liquid emerald—turn upward and lock with mine, imploring.

"I am so sorry, Obi-Wan."

Anger at a Dark being I have never laid eyes on shoots through me with alarming clarity. "No, Aesa, do not apologize." I look at my Master for a long moment, trying to read his muddled thoughts. I cannot. "I am glad the creature is coming now. The sooner it comes, the sooner we are rid of it."

The mane of brown hair peppered with gray that belongs to my great Master whirls toward me. He is not difficult to read now: his eyes betray his surprise at my brash comment.

But I don't care. I have spoken the truth. It may not be the Jedi's way to advocate violence, but this unknown being is a warrior of the Dark Side, out to take vengeance on the Light. I feel justified in my statement. I know my Master does not approve.

A silent admonition. Another to the list of my meditations.

Qui-Gon doesn't respond but I see the slight smile in his eyes. He is proud of my response. He knows there is more of him in me than he cares to admit.

His hand moves back to the nape of Aesa's neck in a comforting gesture. "Okay little one, tell us everything."

**

Meditation.

This is how I implored my Padawan to pass the time. Instead, he chose pacing. His careful, even steps, eight fore, eight back, are like footsteps across my normally serene mind.

It seems no one will be meditating this night.

Aesa could not guess the time or day in her vision. The creature was in the room, and it was dark outside. Perhaps we were hasty in assuming it was this night. Upon contacting the Council for the second time, we were told to be mindful...and wait.

Obi-Wan's main concern seems to be the girl. Not that I am surprised. She is unarmed and afraid. He is the one under target, at least according to her visions, but he is a Jedi Padawan, more than confident behind a lightsaber, to the point of cockiness.

Ah, when I was twenty-three.

I am simply exhausted. The extremity of vigilance is vastly underestimated. And according to the chrono on the wall, it is just after 0300. Three more standard hours until the fireball that is the Kalla sun makes her ascent into the atmosphere.

Eight fore, eight back. No, no meditating will be done tonight.

Forty-five standard minutes later, meditation is the farthest thing from my mind. We both sense the creature's approach before it ascends upon the door. The girl, as promised to Obi-Wan, locks herself in the adjacent room. With no weapon, her presence could be more of a hindrance than a help.

The panel on the outside door is easily overridden. And then it is here. It is a large creature, exactly as Aesa has described it. Biped, of a species I have only seen several times in my long life and cannot remember the name of. Dark brown skin, leathery in texture, makes black slits that are eyes nearly impossible to detect. The creature has no nose, rather three breathing holes placed symmetrically across its wide, flat face that flare and retract with each breath. Thick lips pull back at the sight of us, sharply fanged teeth glinting white against his dark skin.

My Padawan's entire body tenses, I feel it as sure as it were my own. Hands clench the saber hilt, he bounces slightly on the balls of his feet. I would warn him in taking pleasure in harm, but I know his response. Master, I am not taking pleasure in harm, I am simply reacting to the endorphins the prospect of a challenge presents to my body.

I know its as much a load of crap as he does.

Yet I feel the endorphins as well. A familiar pumping of the heart, strengthening of the will, heightening of confidence as I feel the bond between Master and Padawan flex and tighten as we prepare.

We are ready.

In time, the creature raises its hands, as though in surrender. Lightsabers drawn and ignited, we do not move. We do not falter an inch. It stands this way for an eternity.

I am considering its position when two silver beams, microscopic to those not guided by the Force, erupt from its sleeves. I move right, my Padawan left, the pinging sound of deflected metal resonating excruciatingly loud in my ears. Before I have time to regroup, the creature emits a low howl of anger, launching itself in a complicated series of flips and tumbles at Obi-Wan.

I see the surprise that flashes through his eyes, at the same time feeling it in my own heart. Jumping backward, Obi-Wan manages to put a few more feet of distance between himself and his attacker before lashing out wildly with his lightsaber.

It is a very un-Jedi like move but I can't blame my Padawan.

The creature narrowly misses being hit by the sizzling blue-white blade and retreats slightly. I use this opportunity to advance, calling upon the Force to move an ottoman that stands rigidly in my way.

Ignoring my presence, the creature uses a hidden wrist held blaster to fire bolt upon bolt at my Padawan. All Obi-Wan can do is defend and deflect, each heated fire pack bouncing harmlessly off his lightsaber and sizzling away in the oxygen. I move into place behind it and raise my lightsaber.

When it detected me, I don't know, but a sudden spin and vertical jump almost 20 feet above our heads shocks the hell out of us. It comes down to our right, in the open area near the balcony and the adjoining room. The room Aesa is in. Defenseless.

I feel my Padawan's apprehension rise ten fold. He advances, confidence outward, fear and anger inward, lightsaber blazing toward his nemesis.

I can only follow, uncomfortable with our sudden change in role. During battle, it is I who always leads, my place as the Master dictating it. Now, the apprentice leads, unconcerned with past tradition, only focusing his sense at present.

It is what I've urged him to do with every endeavor.

The battle has begun again, the creature now on the defensive, evading our strokes with quick flips, leaps and ducks. The moves of a practiced warrior. Occasionally, it strikes out of its own accord, using a variety of hidden blades and weapons as its artillery. I am impressed to say the least. Never in my long life as a Jedi have I seen a foe last this long against two Jedi together. It has a mission borne of the Dark Side. It wants Obi-Wan.

This thought barely passes through my mind before it turns on me, and with a horrible scream uses both long arms to lift itself up by the chandelier. It hangs for a moment, long enough to lift its legs and evade one more blow from Obi-Wan's lightsaber. Then, a swing of its legs out and down, so quickly, I—even with Jedi reflexes—only see a blurred flurry of motion. Heavy boots land square to my chest, knocking all 250 pounds of me to the floor.

I admire my Padawan's loyalty, as I hear him cry out my name in surprise and reach for me. But loyalty is sometimes a burden, and I wind up tumbling him down with me, unable to call on the Force quickly enough to cushion our fall.

The air rushes out of me with a loud thump. I am quite stunned with no time to ponder the sensation. The attacker has landed nimbly on its hind quarters and is loping the short distance toward Obi-Wan. My Padawan is alert but nowhere near ready.

Whamp!

I can only watch in horror as an iron ball the size of a boulder slams into his midsection, knocking him flat. I hear him wheeze, then pass out cold. My only thought is to get to him before the dreadful creature does. It is closer, and I am forced to draw on every ounce of power I have to push him backward. It seems surprised at the invisible hands holding it back, but it struggles valiantly.

Breathing is suddenly a laborious task.

I make it to my charge, nothing left to give to the Force hold which lets the creature free. One lightsaber strike and it should have been finished. This should have been over before it began.

But, it is not.

When I see my Padawan's pale, insipid face, I care no more. I turn my back to danger, giving in completely to my instinct and the Force.

**

I am angry at myself. This has gone on too long. I am a trained Jedi cowering behind a closed door like a frightened fool. A thousand questions flit through my mind as I listen to the flurry of activity behind that polished R'alla wood. How is this thing fairing so well against two Jedi so talented they border on famed? All I have to do is go out there...but will I help? Or hinder?

The soft thud of something—someone? -- hitting the floor jostles the inquisitions from my head. Obi-Wan's muffled groan of defeat, then: silence.

The Force breaks the stillness, buzzing around me like a horde of angry bees. I was not aware it could be this obstinate. Relentless. My decision is made, it has been since I felt the Jedi Padawan's fall. I cannot stand here on the other side of this door and allow two Jedi to be taken from life.

Using my power in a way I have never attempted to use it before, I move with lightening speed to the other side of the room. An Alderaanian Chi'Tak vase stands almost three feet high in the corner, probably weighing close to 200 pounds. It will make a fine weapon.

Curling the Light Side of the Force around me like an old, friendly blanket, I half-drag the vase over to the door. Running my palm over the keypad, it hisses open, sounding like a Corellian freighter in my ears. My gaze first flits over to Obi-Wan, lying motionless on the floor, his head a banthas hair away from the cut glass of the balcony door. He is unconscious, but through our connection I can tell he's not dead. Qui-Gon is leaning over him, oblivious, or uncaring of, the creature at his back.

I realize only a span of seconds has gone by since I heard the thud of Obi-Wan's body hitting the floor, but it feels like hours. I don't have time to lose. The creature growls savagely at Qui-Gon's back, the Jedi Master either does not hear or pretends not to. The creature wants a fight. He is not getting one from either Jedi anymore.

But he just may get one from me.

The creature lifts its long, leathery arms, pointing them straight outward. A wrist dagger gleams from the holster at the underside of his forearm. In the same motion, I call upon the Force and lift the large Alderaanian vase over my head. It cocks its weapon and I lunge, hurling the Chi'Tak and myself at it full force.

It screams and I echo, coming down hard atop the cracking vase and the creature underneath. A sickening splitting thud, then the gurgling of liquid escaping a deep wound. I fight not to be ill, turning my head away from the rapidly pooling blue plasma that oozes out of the creature's every pore. My body grudgingly follows, every limb aching with undisclosed origins of pain. Blood beings seeping through the fabric of the pajama pants I have borrowed, but I do not care. I have to get to Obi-Wan.

I have to.

I can't stand, so I crawl the few feet to Master Qui-Gon and his apprentice. I feel a gentle push and suddenly cannot come closer. The voice in my head serves to calm me only slightly.

I speak aloud, no energy to do otherwise. "Is he okay?"

A slight groan, then another as Qui-Gon lifts the young man into his weary arms and deposits him on the bed.

I know what the Jedi Master said about moving, but I cannot bring myself to obey. Pulling myself with great effort and furious agony, I manage to stand. Walking is a little like teaching a mynock to pilot a ship, but I make do, using furniture, upright and overturned alike, to pull myself across the room where Qui-Gon is now sitting with his injured Padawan.

Obi-Wan is awake now, wincing in pain as his Master presses firmly against his midsection. "Allow the Force to ease your pain, Padawan. Your ribs are broken."

Qui-Gon speaks softly, but I hear him as though he is standing right next to me. I move closer, wincing myself as I lower my battered body into the chair directly next to the bed. Obi-Wan turns his head.

"You're hurt, Aesa." His voice sounds even deeper than his Masters as he rasps in pain.

I manage a quick glance down at my legs—I notice now the pants are torn in places—and give a small chuckle. "Just cuts and bruises, Obi-Wan. Bacta treatment will heal me quickly. You must concentrate on healing yourself."

Qui-Gon closes his eyes and nods slightly, as though adding his own congruity to the statement.

The Jedi Padawan shakes his head. "You're bleeding," he argues.

To placate him, I rise from the chair, internally wishing I am doing anything other than being mobile at the moment. As I make my way to the 'fresher, I notice the lavender sun rising in the Kalla sky.

**

It is night again. My body feels as though it hasn't rested in a fortnight. But I do as a Master should—I watch over my injured Padawan vigiliantly.

I have done my duty: the Council has been contacted, the body of the attacking creature removed, floor cleaned and sanitized.

Now, I am just waiting. Waiting and watching.

My Padwan will be fine. He has already healed significantly with the help of the Force. He saw to it that I tended Aesa's wounds as soon as I was done with his. He'd have insisted I do it first if he'd possessed enough energy to argue.

Aesa sleeps now, the worst of her injuries on both hands. They are bandaged, left one resting against Obi-Wan's shoulder, right flung across the pillow they share. Their bodies are curled together, taking both warmth and strength from the other in slumber.

They are close. I'm not sure when it happened, or how it did without my knowledge. Obi-Wan spoke of a bond when he saw her. I am embarrassed to say I dismissed it as hormones of a young man. Now, I know better.

The light is in his eyes. Now, Obi-Wan is happy.

Fin.