TRILOGY 1: LIBERTY

by Bronwyn (moonmip@ihug.com.au)

Disclaimer: I don't anything that belongs to George Lucas(duh), all I own is this story and my visions of gratuitous Obi-Wan/Qui-Gon smut. Cheers!

Spoilers for the Jedi Apprentice books, I think. Slight spoilers for TPM, SW, TESB and ROTJ.

Sequel: Yep! This is part one of my Trilogy series. Part two, is in the works, should be done soon!

Archive: MA, Jedi Hurtaholics, if anyone else wants it, just drop me a line, so I can visit and feel happy. My homepage: in sig line

Ratings: um, mostly PG, probably leaning slightly towards PG-13. Sorry, no slash, just implications, that's all in the sequel. This story is: h/c, angst, smarm and definitely AU.

NOTES: All comments of any kind are welcome, including flames. Obi's about twenty four. Enjoy the fic!

SUMMARY: When the ultimate disaster occurs at the Jedi temple, Qui-Gon must find Obi-Wan before his injuries kill him. But Qui-Gon is not the only one searching...part 1 of a Trilogy.

// thoughts.

The aircar slowed and eventually stopped at an air roadblock that had been set up to prevent people approaching the Jedi Temple. But as the female news representative leaned out from the aircar window, she saw that it wasn't necessary to get any closer. From here she could see it all.

She had received a call from her superior, demanding that he go straight to the Jedi Temple, as something had happened there. At first she had been reluctant- there were many superstitions about the Jedi and few flattering. But she eventually capitulated and agreed to go. And as she gazed at the scene before her, she knew why she had been sent here.

The Jedi Temple had been totally and utterly destroyed.

EARLIER THAT DAY

Obi-Wan sighed as he pulled on his cloak. Today was definitely going to be boring. His master, along with all others on Coruscant with padawans, was going to spend most of the day consulting with the council - //Probably about me,// Obi-Wan thought unhappily. As he arranged his cloak so it flowed and not just hung limply, Obi-Wan let his mind drift.

All of the padawans had been dreading this meeting, wondering what it foretold of their futures. The Masters had been annoyingly closed mouthed about what the agenda of the meeting entailed, leading the padawans to make up horrific scenarios where they were taken to task by their Masters - or worse, be dropped as padawans.

Obi-Wan didn't know more than anyone else what the meeting was for, and frankly didn't care. He doubted that every single padawan would be considered unfit to be Jedi. Obi-Wan privately thought it was just a meeting that Masters held semi- regularly to share notes about padawan training. What he chafed at was the fact that his and Bant's master had decided that to keep them out of trouble, they could help the aged Master Vashkl sort out the Jedi archives on the lower level of the Temple.

Archives! That was the most boring thing the active and frenetic Padawan could possibly do. And Qui-Gon knew it. As he stalked towards Bant's quarters, Obi- Wan muttered darkly about Jedi Masters and boredom.

The doors to Bant's shared quarters with her teacher, Master Averil Cherta, slid open a few moments after he pushed the doorchime. Despite her quick response, Bant was obviously as unhappy about the day's proposed activities as Obi-Wan.

"Hey Obi. Ready for a day of endless tedium and boredom?"

Obi-Wan grinned back. The only good thing about today was that he got to spend some time with Bant. "Now, now, your Master would lecture you about how stacking archives is good training in serenity and patience," he said in mock pomposity.

He ducked the swipe she aimed at him. "My Master isn't here and she would most certainly not say that. She'd probably say something along the lines of 'shut up and do it anyway, Padawan,' and so would your's!"

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement. Despite the fact that they were two years apart in ages and friendships had no effect on who was chosen by whom as a padawan, the two padawans were remarkably lucky. Bant's master was a close friend of Qui-Gon, and this allowed their padawans to see each other more often than they would normally. Unfortunately, they were also similar in temperate, and highly unsympathetic to the padawan boredom state.

"I can't believe we have to do this," sighed Bant as they entered the lift to take them to the lower levels. "C'mon Obi-you and Qui-Gon are lovers, couldn't you have used that as a bargaining chip to weasel us out of this?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "Tried it. Didn't work. He just laughed and then he grabbed me by -" Obi-Wan looked side on at his friend, who had a big dirty grin of anticipation on her amphibious face. "Uh..never mind. He was unsympathetic, to say the least."

It was Bant's turn to sigh. "You never share the good stuff," she complained, but good naturedly. Like most Jedi, she was casual about sex - especially around Obi-Wan. He was her oldest and closest friend, and they told each other everything. She could worm the details out of him later - there wasn't time now.

Bant patted Obi-Wan sympathetically on the shoulder as the lift door slid open. "Hey, it's not your fault that your Master isn't as soft-hearted when it comes to boring tasks. If it helps, you can pretend that each archive you shove on a shelf is being smacked into Qui-Gon's face. I do stuff like that when my Master irritates me."

Obi-Wan began to laugh. "So much for Jedi serenity!" he spluttered, finding the mental image of the look on Qui-Gon's face as he smacked him with a heavy Jedi chronicle more that a little amusing. Bant had to drag him down the corridor to see Master Vashkl to start the day's untempting task.

Qui-Gon stretched his long legs out under the table, trying to stifle a yawn. Beside him, his friend Averil Cherta, a master to one of Obi-Wan's friends, caught it and smiled. He winked back before returning his attentions to the talks. But it soon wandered once more.

He hated these gatherings. They were basically an oversized support group for all Jedi Masters with padawans, the 'let's discuss the horrors of raising padawans and the frustrations with their training' kind of thing. Qui-Gon thought these meetings entirely irrelevant - his training relationship with Obi- Wan was problem free, the boy being an avid student and having a natural talent with Force manipulation.

And outside training hours....

Qui-Gon fought to keep the lecherous grin off his face. He and Obi-Wan had been lovers for the past year - since the age the council had deemed it allowable for padawans and Masters to have a relationship, as long as the council also deemed it able to function outside the training arena. While it had taken a while for their relationship to get off the ground - Qui-Gon had initially hesitated, unsure that it was love and not lust, until Obi-Wan had thrown him onto a bed and practically ravished him - now things were perfect. They had applied to the council for permission to form a lifebond, the Jedi equivalent of marriage, only much more, but the Council had yet to respond.

Qui-Gon frowned briefly. The Council seemed hesitant to allow the lifebond, and from what he'd been able to sense, the main antagonist of their bond had been Yoda, because something about Obi-Wan unnerved him. While Qui-Gon respected his former master enormously, he wasn't going to let a petty dislike of Obi-Wan stand in the way. He loved Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan loved him, and Council permission or not, he would find a way to bond with Obi-Wan.

Thoughts of their activities last night got him through the rest of the meeting without screaming, and he was pleased to find they ended earlier than anticipated. It seemed the current assemblage of padawans were an exemplary group. Qui-Gon knew his apprentice was certainly exemplary. In many fields.

The lecherous grin had surfaced again, and he started when Averil touched his shoulder. "Stop daydreaming, Qui-Gon, there's plenty of time for that later. We have a free day on Coruscant, what shall we do?"

Qui-Gon looked at his friend with a small smile. They had been padawans together, their age difference slight, much like Bant and Obi-Wan now and their friendship had lasted the years. "We could rescue our padawans from an afternoon of boring book stacking," he offered.

"Skies above, no! If we go down there, Vashkl will rope us into helping. No, they can enjoy themselves down there while we enjoy ourselves up here. Besides, I'm sure they'll find Vashkl quite refreshing compared to us."

Qui-Gon smirked. "You are a bad woman, Averil."

"No more so than you, Qui-Gon. Shall we go?"

Like two naughty children playing truant, the two Jedi Masters hurried to enjoy their rare free day.

Obi-Wan shoved another chronicle onto the shelf. It wasn't as bad here as he'd thought it would be - Master Vashkl had a wicked sense of humour and quite exuberantly shared Temple gossip with the two padawans. She also had a small music player and it was emitting cheerfully jaunty tunes that seemed to mock the stillness of the dusty archive rooms.

"Here, dear, you and the handsome young man go and put these archives in the steel room."

"Yes, Master Vashkl," said Bant, giggling. She had never met a Master that acted like this before! "Which is the steel room?"

"The one at the far end, dear. It's called the steel room because that is what it's made of. Was originally a blast shelter before the Temple grew so big, probably couldn't protect against a blaster by now. If the roof falls on your head, just give a yell and I'll pull you out!"

Bant giggled again while Vashkl exchanged grins with Obi-Wan. "Here, muscle-boy, you grab those heavier ones. Must always act the gentleman, except in battle against Amazons of course."

"Yes, Master Vashkl," he smiled, hauling the archives into his arms and following Bant. He briefly wondered what an Amazon was, then dismissed it.

Perhaps today would be tolerable after all.

Virgil Kassel ignored the almost obligatory fear that was in the back of his mind as he set the explosive. He knew he wouldn't get caught. No one on the lower levels came anywhere near the Jedi Temple, they were too afraid of them. Their mental powers, their unholy religious ways, they were feared because they were different.

Very different. And powerful.

Kassel shuddered at the thought. He was an uneducated thief and natural prey to all the misconceptions and rumours about the Jedi order. He personally believed they were some sort of trained demons for the Republic government, sent out to do its bidding and twist the minds of the independent planets to force them to join the Republic.

That was why it was a godsend when he had received this job. Thirty five thousand Antarii credits - worth more than Republic ones - paid in advance. He could use any method, all expenses for the work would be covered. There was simply one command.

To wipe out the Jedi.

All of them.

Obi-Wan piled up the journals in the correct order as Bant began to insert them on the shelves. Behind them, they could hear Master Vashkl yodelling the words to one of the songs playing, sounding as if she was singing in Yoda's native tongue. The two youths exchanged grins as they listened to her gurgling warbles. Nope, the Vagarian woman certainly wasn't like any Master they had ever met before.

The two had just finished their task when Obi-Wan lifted his head.

"Obi?" asked Bant apprehensively, worried by the look on his face.

"I don't know, Bant, the Force, something feels -"

The young female head turned as well as she sensed the odd ripple in the Force. "What do you thi-"

Words ceased to be heard above the all encompassing roar that suddenly filled the air. The room began to shake, neatly stacked periodicals tumbling to the floor, quickly followed by their shelves. Only Bant's quick shove saved them both from being crushed by one bookcase. Both padawan's arms pinwheeled furiously as they struggled to keep their balance on the wildly heaving floor.

"Padawans!"

Master Vashkl's cry was barely heard by either youth, as the sound reverberating around them changed, if possible becoming louder and vaguely rhythmic, with crunching, crushing sounds.

//The floors below us collapsing// Obi-Wan barely had time to register before the floor beneath them was falling.

He hit the ground hard, the fall broken by the archive books. It was suddenly silent, the silence almost shockingly loud. He briefly thought that the tomes had their uses after all, then was struggling to find the others. Not all the lights had blown, and he could see, albeit dimly. His voice echoed loudly in the semi-darkness.

"Bant! Master Vashkl?"

"I'm here, Obi! Thank the skies you're okay!"

He could see Bant, she was unhurt, thank the Force. "Have you seen Master Vas-" Both youths froze as a sound reached them. A cracking sound.

"Obi..."

Bant's voice was quiet, barely heard above the cracking sound. Obi-Wan followed her outstretched hand to see what she was horrified by. The wall beside them had a split in one corner that grew as he watched. The fracture developed from the corner to spread up across the concrete surface, widening as it went. Then his head snapped up as the rumblings above them began again, and he had no time to move before the entire Temple came down on them.

Qui-Gon and Averil were standing on the steps at the entrance to the Temple at ground level, speaking with some other Masters who were escaping their padawans for the day. Qui-Gon's head snapped up as he felt a surge of fear from Obi-Wan, through both the training bond and deeper lover's bond. Several other Masters, including Averil, also had the distant look, indicating they were trying to communicate with their padawans.

"What is it?" asked a padawan-less master.

Talk ended abruptly as the ground began to dance beneath them. All the masters instinctively reached out with the Force to steady themselves.

Then the Temple began to fall.

Balance, with or without the Force, became a matter of luck as the assembled Masters scattered in various directions, dodging debris.

The thousand foot high building slowly began to dissolve, gradually diminishing in height as the lower levels collapsed, bringing down the upper levels. It was like watching a tiered cake fall in on itself, save being on an incomprehensible scale.

The noise was deafening. But that was not what caught the Jedi's attention. Those currently attuned to the Force screamed as the energy shockwaves of the Jedi killed began to lash out through the Force, literally shutting down minds.

Qui-Gon himself felt the backlash, sending him to his knees, suddenly unheeding of the collapsing Temple behind him. He could feel the deaths of Jedi as the Temple fell, Masters, council members, padawans...children. The storm of Force energy produced by the deaths of so many Force-sensitives began to build, straining to find a way to be released. And deep within that storm he could feel Obi-Wan's life force tremble, then it was engulfed in the tsunami of Force crashing over him. Too much, it was too much.

Qui-Gon's mind shut down.

The Temple had entirely tumbled in on itself after ten long minutes, and the ground had stopped shaking. But the horror had barely begun. Hundreds of Jedi were still trapped within the destroyed building, they had to be retrieved.

The living had to saved, no time to mourn the dead yet.

Qui-Gon was shaken from his horror by a voice calling directly into his mind. He opened his eyes to see Averil leaning over him.

"Averil..?" he managed.

She sat back, her relief palpable. "Thank the Force, Qui-Gon. You were so deep I thought I couldn't get you. It's a good thing we are taught how to shield against surges like that." She was pulling his arm, hauling him to his feet and he shook his head, still disoriented. "We have to help." Panic was in her voice as she said; "I have to find my padawan."

//Obi-Wan!//

Qui-Gon's eyes widened in fright and he sent the call ranging far and deep, yet received no response. He turned his eyes to the ruined Temple, sending his call deep...deep...Obi-Wan had been on the lower levels...

It was only with great effort that the Jedi Master managed to tamp down his fear and anxiety. If Obi-Wan was dead....

He mercilessly drove that thought into the back of his mind, locking it away. He stumbled toward the debris, focusing, listening for noises, calls of those trapped.

There were none.

He cursed himself, these were Jedi. Only the youngest would call out vocally, the majority would automatically reach out with their minds for masters, padawans, friends, lovers. Qui-Gon flinched at the thought of reaching out with the Force again after the backlash last time, but he pushed himself to concentrate.

//Focus. Help the Jedi. Help Obi-Wan//

But his calls to his padawan still went unanswered.

It became easier to identify where people were trapped within the building as time went on. Jedi forces on the surface were equally divided between helping those taken from the wreckage and searching for others.

The Jedi searching could sift through the layers, as other Jedi that were trapped could reach further down into the building than they could, telling them if there were more trapped deeper within. In a way it was a mental bucket chain, each person relaying the thoughts of someone above or below them.

The farthest they had reached about fifteen levels down, where a padawan had been sent to collect supplies. The girl was physically not seriously hurt, but trapped in an air pocket. When asked if she could sense anyone else, she had thought that she could feel a flicker further down, but was unsure, she was young and not very advanced in training yet.

A flicker.

Qui-Gon had to stop himself from running to the debris and trying to get down there, to see if that flicker was his padawan. Instead, he worked systematically with the other Jedi, using the Force to move the heavier pieces of rubble and to stabilise the shifting ruins.

More Jedi arrived by the moment, those not at the Temple hurrying to assist, having felt its destruction through the Force. If he reached out, Qui-Gon could also feel Jedi offworld hurrying back to Coruscant, sending comfort and support to their fellow Jedi, rushing to help.

It was, in some measure, amazing the way the Jedi were handling the disaster. The more senior members directed efforts, other Jedi working with the healers, or searching. The Jedi pushed aside as many emotions as they could while they fought to save lives. The Force was drawn on heavily, for both rescue and healing efforts, as well as bolstering physical bodies. Conditions were poor, the rain threatened, and it was difficult to see the area, as tall buildings on all sides blocked what little light there was from reaching the scene of the disaster. The cityscape of Coruscant was working against them.

There were some scenes of happiness as Masters were reunited with their padawans, one or the other pulled from the wreckage, or friends and lovers brought together, but these were far apart. The scale of the disaster was unthinkable.

But there was no time now to wonder who perpetuated this nightmare. That would come later, and retribution would be sought. The Jedi did not allow their members to be harmed and let it go unpunished. Whoever had done this would be found and held responsible. The Jedi did not seek revenge, but to let this go would be as unthinkable as the disaster itself.

Thankfully some of the non Force-sensitive workers at the Temple had taken over the task of keeping people away from the ruins, as all Jedi were needed in the recovery effort. But the crowds that had come to see stared silently, watching the Jedi struggle to save their own. Few offered to help, those that did were told to aid the healers. The Jedi were considered an unknown entity on Coruscant, indeed everywhere they went, and it was obvious most people believed that they either could, or would have to, manage on their own.

Eventually, Republic workers arrived to help, their additional doctors relieving the great strain on the Jedi healers who still insisted on taking the worst cases, knowing their healing skill to be superior to that of the Republic aides.

Time seemed to have no meaning as they worked, but chatter, both mental and vocal, broke through Qui-Gon's concentration. Children. He was hearing children. In his mind.

That meant Jedi children.

Qui-Gon swung up and around, in time to see a large group of children being ushered through the protective barrier. All were wide eyed in shock, but a quick count revealed that all the creche children under ten were there.

Qui-Gon let his shocked mind process this thought. Most of the children had been away from the Temple when the destruction happened. The wave of relief and joy that surged through the Force from dozens of minds at once at that realisation calmed him, helping him refocus. Their task wasn't helpless. Many Jedi were still alive, and they could reach them. Could reach Obi-Wan.

"Qui-Gon!"

He turned to find himself being crushed in an embrace by-

"Mace! Thank the skies! How -"

The dark-toned man was deeply relieved his friend was alright. "I was with the children at the Frantian circus."

Qui-Gon suddenly remembered. There was an excursion today for the children, outside the Temple, a rare event. Thank the Force it was today. "The other council members?"

"Yoda and Yaddle are off-planet, they are returning. I'm surprised you haven't felt Yoda yet. He asked me to look for you because he couldn't find you." Qui- Gon frowned vaguely. Yoda was his former master, he should have heard that call. He must be more weary than he thought. "The others -" Mace broke off, then sighed. "We don't know yet."

Qui-Gon rubbed his head. "I'm exhausted. That must be why I didn't hear Yoda."

Mace met his eyes solemnly. "Obi-Wan?"

Qui-Gon shook his head, then felt a flare of unreasonable anger at the sympathy in his friend's eyes. "He is not dead!" he rasped, and strode away to continue searching, Mace hurrying along behind.

He would not give up hope.

High above the Force storm energy had finally found an outlet for the pent up power. Heavy rain clouds were amassing in the skies, black and dark. Soon it would begin raining, making rescue efforts harder and creating the threat that those Jedi trapped in air pockets might drown. Qui-Gon turned away from the clouds and the frightened children.

He would not give up on Obi-Wan.

Ever.

It was dark.

The lights had all blown the second time the Temple had shook, and Bant was vaguely aware of the sound of trickling as she swam towards consciousness.

It was then she remembered where she was.

She sat up with a jerk, a strangled scream coming from her throat at the pain in her head. Her eyes. Oh, Force, it wasn't dark, she was blind.

Hesitantly, she reached out with her hands. She was afraid to call out in fear that it would bring more of the building down on them. Obi had been near her.

"Obi...? Master Vashkl?"

No answer. Panic began to bubble over, but then her training kicked in. Automatically she relegated the fear to a far off place in her mind, sealing it away where it wouldn't interfere with what she needed to do here. At the same time, she reached out with the Force, cataloguing her injuries.

It was as she feared, her eyes were damaged, but as she was not a healer, she couldn't tell how badly. Her leg was also broken.

//Great. That'll interfere with my mobility.//

Having established that, Bant reached for her Master. But they were too far down, the distance too great between them. She could sense nothing, but she refused to believe that her Master was dead. Averil couldn't be.

Now that she she knew her eyes weren't up to the job, Bant used the Force instead, taking comfort in its familiar presence. It caressed her gently, soothing the pain somewhat.

She had known all her life that the Force comprised of all living things, was all living things, but as she had grown older, Bant had come to believe that the Force was alive in some measure, that it could feel, think, even act independently. She knew it was absurd, but she also had the notion that the Force was particularly fond of Obi-Wan, so when it immediately drew her attention to a body to her right, she knew whose it would be.

Calling on the Force to bolster her, she began to drag her way across to Obi, even as her senses searched for Master Vashkl. It was not an easy task to move, the floor was littered with debris and unstable in some places, and the pain in her leg at her movement was extreme. Yet by the time she reached Obi-Wan's side she was sure of two things.

One, Master Vashkl was dead. Two, Obi-Wan was alive, though badly hurt.

As she sent out the Force in place of her eyes, she could sense that he was trapped, but without her vision, she couldn't tell clearly, she wasn't used to using the Force for this sort of work. She focused on Obi-Wan.

Her gasp was a little too loud, causing some more rubble to tumble down near her. But she barely heeded it.

Obi-Wan was in bad shape.

He was under a steel roof support. It had stopped them being killed instantly when the Temple had come down but had trapped Obi-Wan nonetheless. His chest was being crushed by the support, and unless she got him out from under there, or they were rescued soon, Obi would certainly die. All her senses were screaming at her that Obi-Wan was bleeding badly somewhere, but she couldn't pinpoint where. And if she couldn't pinpoint it, she couldn't heal it.

It was hopeless.

Despair was quickly beginning to overtake her. What could she do? They were so far down they'd never be found. But as the panic broke free in her mind, her hand seemed to move of its own volition and it slapped her in the face.

Despite her shock at her limb's involuntary movement, the motion centred her on the here and now, as her Master had taught her. Her Master. She hadn't been able to reach her Master, but maybe she could reach someone else. Someone lower down, someone closer.

Bant closed her eyes and concentrated on the living Force again.

"Chancellor Palpatine!"

The tall form outlined by the building storm's dark light dribbling in from the window did not look up.

"Yes?" he asked distractedly, still examining the ledger in his hand.

"The Jedi Temple has been destroyed! It has collapsed to the ground!"

Palpatine finally looked up at his aide, a Toyndarian who was fluttering nervously from side to side, wringing his hands. This species were good as secretaries, for though they were immune to Force-tricks, they were also completely Force blind. That meant little need to keep up shields constantly, a tiring effort. "What did you say?" Convincingly false shock coloured the Chancellor's words.

"It has fallen, the Jedi Temple has fallen! What shall we do?"

Palpatine frowned, his hand brushing his chin. "Fetch my ward, I think I will need his assistance in dealing with this...unfortunate matter."

When the Toyndarian had gone, Palpatine allowed a smile to spread across his face. So his worker had come through for him. It was amazing what you could twist gullible minds into believing. He had to make sure the man was properly...rewarded for his work later. Maul could handle that. He enjoyed killing, as a Sith should.

But now Palpatine had more important matters to deal with. He would have sensed the destruction of the Jedi Temple himself, but he had been aware of the mental backlash that so many Force-sensitive deaths would cause, and had shielded in preparation, instructing Maul to do so also. The same backlash was causing the storm clouds to build, causing the rain that was beginning to fall in large, pregnant drops. The Force was releasing the energy of the deaths the only way it could. But the devastation of the Temple had served but one purpose for Palpatine, or rather his alter-ego, the Sith Lord Sidious.

Darth Sidious had sensed a strange twist in the Force for nineteen years, presumably since the child was brought to Coruscant to be trained as a Jedi. One strong in the Force, stronger than himself. The One who would fulfil the Dark Prophecy - the One, who if turned, would bring about the total annihilation of the Jedi, but if remained pure, would annihilate the Sith.

The Jedi held in their hands the instrument that would ensure their salvation or destruction, yet they knew it not. Oh, the delicious irony of it.

While blowing up the Temple was fun, and indeed, an end in itself, killing numerous Jedi and severely damaging hundreds more, Sidious also hoped that the one he could sense in the Force, the One, would reveal some tangible sign of who they were.

For that was the crux of the problem. Though he could feel that they existed, Sidious could not pinpoint exactly who was the special One. Logic told him it was a Jedi, for even they could not miss this child's Force-potential. They must be a padawan between seventeen and twenty five, allowing for him to have not noticed the child at first, though he doubted that had happened. The child fairly blazed with Force energy, surely even the Jedi would have noticed that this child was exceptionally strong in the Force.

Hopefully the incident at the Temple would trick the One into showing its power and revealing itself. Then the Sith could step in and ensure that they served the Dark.

It was forbidden for Sith to have more than one apprentice, but that didn't bother Sidious. While Maul was an excellent student, he would be nothing on this child. The one the Jedi called the 'Chosen One,' foolishly believing they would bring balance to the Force when the One would tip the scales forever.

No, Maul was eventually expendable. But not yet. Sidious still had need of him yet.

Behind him, the door slid open and he felt the faint shimmer of his apprentice's presence. "Ah, my ward. I have need of your assistance."

He turned to face Maul, aware of the Toyndarian hanging nervously behind him. // I have a task for you, involving a certain...employee...//

"Master Jinn!"

Qui-Gon looked up as a young padawan who was a member of the search team ran to him. Her arm was bound to her body in a sling, indicating it was broken, but with adult-like control she ignored the pain as she approached him. Her hair was plastered to her head, her clothes drenched. The rain had begun half an hour ago and showed no signs of abating. All members of the search team were soaked, and the fear was increasing that some trapped would drown before they could be saved. The healers were sheltered in nearby buildings, trying to keep the wounded dry.

The sight of the wet, injured girl constricted Qui-Gon's heart. //Even the young are hurt..// But a brick wall hit this despairing train of thought as Averil appeared behind the padawan.

"Qui-Gon, I have established contact with Bant!"

The Jedi Master was on his feet in seconds. "Where is she? Is she alright, is Obi-Wan with her?"

The female Master held up her hand to stop his flow of questions. "I learnt her position when they reached her through the mental search line. She must have been unconscious when we first looked down there and we couldn't sense her. She is far down in the debris, perhaps even one hundred metres. It is exhausting for both of us to reach that far when we are both in such bad condition. I can sense her, no more, I am compelled to speak to her through the mind chain."

It was then that Qui-Gon saw how pale Averil was, and that she was literally swaying on her feet. He caught her arm and tried to help her sit, but instead she grabbed him and dragged him over to a point in the rubble, the padawan returning to her work.

"Here. They are here."

//They?//

"Obi-Wan is there?"

Averil nodded, finally sitting down in the mud that covered the ground, heedless of it soiling her robes. Qui-Gon barely noticed her motion as he sent out his mind to Obi-Wan. Now that he knew a more precise location, it would be easier to sense his lover.

This time when he sent out the call, he knew that it was travelling along their link, but at Obi-Wan's end, there was no answer.

"He's hurt! Unconscious!"

Averil caught his arms and drove him from his fright. "Qui-Gon! Control!" He forced himself to take a few deep breaths and released them, forcing his emotions back. When she could see he was in control once more, Averil spoke again.

"He is alive, as is Bant, though Master Vashkl is dead." Both felt sorrow at this, the elderly Master had been unorthodox, but friendly and lively. "Bant tells me that Obi-Wan is still unconscious. He is trapped under a ceiling support -"

Qui-Gon's terror surged again for a moment, blocking out further words of the other Master. When he regained control, he listened again.

" - injured badly, but she cannot see where."

"Cannot see?" asked Qui-Gon sharply. "Her eyes are damaged?"

Averil nodded, her eyes sad. "She does not know how badly, and I cannot tell, but Qui-Gon, she is sure that unless we get Obi-Wan out soon, he will die."

Qui-Gon nodded dazedly, but Obi-Wan required aid. That gave him all the focus he needed. "I will speak to Mace. We will save them Averil."

But as he spoke, he felt his words were hollow. They had a limited amount of time, and only that time would tell if they could reach the padawans before it was too late.

When Obi-Wan opened his eyes, he was uncertain at first that he had truly done so.

It was still dark.

But questions about light or the lack thereof flew out of his mind as the pain registered.

He cried out before he could stop it, agony surging along his nerve endings and culminating in his chest. He couldn't breathe, move, do anything save hurt. He didn't know how long he lay there, struggling to control the pain, make it manageable, when he became aware of a hand on his head.

The hand was stroking his hair soothingly, and he grasped that as something to focus on rather than the injuries that demanded his attention. After another long moment, the pain was, though still horrific, at a level he could take. Not daring to move in case the agony flared again, Obi-Wan spoke instead.

"...who..."

The tortured word was all he could get out. His throat was so dry...a second later he felt a hand touching his lips - it held water, gently trickling across his lips and into his mouth. He swallowed convulsively, then cried out again as pain rose at the movement.

He became aware of a voice speaking to him in low, urgent tones, and he struggled to grasp the words. He almost had it...

"Obi, please, you have to be quiet, the roof could come down. Obi? Can you here me? Please!"

The voice sounded near tears, and his abused mind finally processed who it was. "..Bant?.."

The hand tightened on his head for a moment, then began to stroke again. "Yeah, it's me."

"Where..?" Obi-Wan managed to croak.

"Still in the steel room. You have to stay still, you're trapped under a ceiling support and I can't get you out."

"...oh..." Obi-Wan was too dazed to try and remember what happened. "..hurts.."

Bant heaved in a sob. "I know, Obi. Can you reach the Force?"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and reached out, gently. The Force was there, as it always was, but it was hanging back, not coming to him. He tried harder, but it danced out of reach, as if waiting for something. In a last ditch effort he lunged forward and felt his mental fingers close around the familiar intangible substance.

Instantly it soothed him, dulling the pain, caressing him as if it had answered his first call. Obi-Wan automatically sent it out to survey his surroundings, as it was too dark to see.

He felt the familiar presence of Bant, but there was something wrong...a broken leg and...eyes? "Bant.." he managed hoarsely. "Are..you alright?"

"I can't see," she whispered. "But I don't think it's permanent. I'm okay. Master Vashkl is dead."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly in grief. He had barely known the Jedi, but any death was a loss to the Force. And she had been so kind to them.

But he had greater concerns at the moment. It was difficult for him to breathe, though whether it was from the weight pressing on his back or an internal injury, he didn't know. "Any..help..?"

He felt Bant pat him on the head once, then felt her reaching out with the Force. "I reached another padawan higher up, Jaeri. She says that help is coming."

Obi-Wan fought back his despair. He knew Jaeri. She used to have a crush on him, but they had spoken about it, and she was now happy with someone her own age. They had become friends. She was trapped too? How many others? How many dead? Friends, masters, children...tears spilled before he could control it, and he felt Bant break off mental contact and hurriedly turn to him.

"Obi, shhh, it's alright. You have to try and stay calm, I think you're going into shock." He felt her hand brush his face, gauging his temperature. "You're cold. I wish I had my cloak -"

Obi-Wan's attention was jerked away as he sensed the faint call from high above.

"Master..." he mumbled. //Master//

But he was too weak, he couldn't broadcast far enough for his master to hear the words. And there must be something wrong with Qui-Gon if he couldn't reach Obi- Wan properly...

Panic closed in, but Bant soothed it away. "He's fine Obi, my Master told me through Jaeri. He's exhausted though, like we are, so he can't reach far. They're using a mental chain." Obi-Wan let her words calming, pushing aside the fear.

Bant relaxed fractionally as she felt Obi-Wan accept her last statement. But she was becoming worried. They were so far down, it would take a long time to reach them.

"...water...?"

She hurriedly reached down and scooped some more from the collected water beside her. They were lucky that they were on a slight slope, and the water was draining away from them. No fear of Obi-Wan drowning.

"It's clean," she said, more for something to say than anything else. "I think it's raining, and the water's running down from above. There's as much as you want."

She gently trickled it into his mouth, flinching at the pain she felt from him when he tried to swallow. "Just take it slow, Obi...you'll be fine."

//Please// she begged in the silent confines of her mind //let help come soon//

Virgil Kassel woke in the dim early afternoon light that fought its way down to the lower levels, disoriented for a second. He blearily dragged a hand across his eyes before focusing on the figure that had woken him.

Kassel had set the explosives early that morning, the night providing a more suitable environment for the thief. However, a night schedule resulted in a daytime sleep schedule, hence his current position in bed. One sleepy glance around his room in the dank lower levels of Coruscant had him catapulting out of bed and across the small space.

"I see that I have awoken you. The voice was hissing, sibilant.

"What-" Kassel backed away from the dark figure outlined in the doorway, horribly aware that his life could probably now be measured in seconds.

There was a snarling hiss, and the semi- darkness was illuminated by a red glow, generated by an energy weapon that also illuminated the creature before him.

A hideous visage, a face marred in red and black, adorned with horns, lips snarling back into a grimace of hate. Yellow hunter's eyes, rimmed in an insatiable red. Putrid, fetid breath emerged from a mouth full of jagged teeth.

This walking death's head, this avenging angel, spoke the last words the murderer would ever hear. "Receive your payment for serving the Sith."

Virgil Kassel had only the briefest moments to apologise to any listening deity for his misspent life before agony flared and he knew no more.

The right side of his body toppled to the side, striking the ground dully. The left side followed it moments later.

Satisfied that he had fulfilled his master's decree, Darth Maul shut down his 'sabre and left the body where it was.

It would not be found.

Time dragged on interminably as the surviving Jedi laboured to rescue their own. Hundreds had been pulled from the rubble, both the dead and the alive, and hours of hard work was slowly paying off.

There were perhaps only one hundred live Jedi still trapped. The speed of the work was continuous and furious, the Jedi using the Force to drive weariness back. More help turned up by the moment, some in the form of back up Republic worker, bystanders whose concern for those hurt outweighed their fear of the Jedi, but most in the form of the Jedi returning to Coruscant from offworld.

Their concerted efforts saw the possibility of all the injured being rescued before sundown, which spared those searching the dangers of doing so in the dark.

However, this reassurance meant little to Qui- Gon. He was exhausted from hours of searching, and felt as though they were no closer to his padawan. Deeper, they carefully dug, excavation droids aiding them, the Force being used liberally to prevent the debris shifting and crushing the workers.

As dusk rapidly approached, Qui-Gon paused in his work to wipe his forehead. Rain sheeted into his eyes, making it hard to see. He was waiting for Mace to give him an update as to how many were still trapped.

"Master Jinn!"

Qui-Gon turned as his name was called by an urgently strident voice. The Jedi was angry that someone was daring to interrupt his all- consuming search for his padawan lover. Recognising the speaker as Jaeri's Master, he was suddenly overcome with shame. He forcibly reminded himself that he was not the only person affected by this.

The elderly Master Gwiss hurried up to his fellow Master, concern widening his eyes. "I was told that you know where Jaeri is." His purple eyes were wide and pleading, and the Jahanian Master wrung four of his six limbs in his fear.

"Yes. She is trapped in a pocket about twenty metres below us. My apprentice is also down there."

"With Jaeri? Are they hurt?"

"Obi-Wan, my padawan, is trapped in another pocket below Jaeri, with one other padawan. Jaeri is fine, she simply cannot get out. All we have to do is dig her out." Qui-Gon tried to be as reassuring as he could.

Not reassuring enough, apparently, as Jedi Gwiss' eight eyes narrowed at him. "And are the other padawan's well? Your's, how is he?"

Qui-Gon looked down, trying to delay answering. He knew it was folly, but he felt that if he didn't speak of Obi-Wan's condition aloud, somehow when they reached his padawan, he would find him whole and well.

Thankfully, he was relieved of relaying his padawan's condition when Mace returned from his coordination with the rescue leaders. He was smiling.

"Good news! The three padawans and one knight here are all that is left to recover." The Council member didn't add that once the living were recovered, they could begin collecting the dead.

Qui-Gon, for his part, was impatient to continue. Obi-Wan was so close, and he still couldn't contact him mentally. His tamped down fear was beginning to rise again.

The four Master's carefully positioned the excavation droids to begin tunnelling, after scanning the area to make sure they were not digging in a way that would pose a threat to those trapped.

As the droids whined and started up, a Healer joined them. Mace had managed to drag her away from the other wounded, giving her what information they could about the injuries of the padawans. However, she firmly insisted that Master Gwiss get out of the rain and return to the Healer shelter, as he had been injured himself. Reluctantly the Jedi went.

The droids tunnelled deeply, the Masters highly aware that they were now thirty metres below the Coruscant landline. Layers and clumps of debris piled high on either side of them, rising in precarious arrangements. They took turns in sustaining a Force-bubble, the energy shield protecting them.

Work proceeded quickly, as there were many helping hands eager to free the last of the trapped. Periodically, mental calls were sent to the knight that was trapped just below them. It was only a few more minutes work to clear the debris, and the knight was able to pull itself from the hole, virtually unharmed. The Zebeebian shook itself, extending and stretching it's wings as it spoke with Master Windu.

"You have a healer ready? Good. I have been I have been informed through Jaeri that Kenobi's condition has deteriorated."

Qui-Gon shoved aside the chill at those words and reached out instead. While they were all exhausted, a fact that greatly reduced the radius and distance in which they could communicate telepathically, Jaeri was close enough that they should now be able to contact her directly.

//Padawan Jaeri, can you hear me? I am Master Qui-Gon, we're here to get you out//

The response was immediate and elicited a whooping cheer from the rescue group.

//I'm here, I can hear you!//

Qui-Gon breathed out evenly, forcing tension out with it. He could feel the Healer touch his shoulder, entering the mental connection.

//Jaeri, I'm Master Healer Xanetia. Are you injured?//

//No, just stuck in this pocket. But we need a Healer, Obi-Wan's hurt badly, Master.//

//We're coming, padawan, just try to stay calm.//

As Qui-Gon mentally pegged her location and relayed it to the diggers so they would not hurt the girl, he felt his heart lighten at the knowledge that he would be with Obi-Wan again soon.

With a hydraulic squeal, the droids started up once more, steadily breaking a tunnel down diagonally. As dusk drew closer, the workers now felt confident they could have everyone out by nightfall.

It was just a matter of time. The question was, did those trapped have that time to spare?

Obi-Wan bit his lip against another burst of pain. His world had reduced to trying to ride out the waves of hurt that periodically flooded his body. It felt as though the agony had always been a part of him, but that did not make the hurt any less.

The padawan attempted to regulate his breathing, trying to maximise the use of the small amount of oxygen he managed to draw in with each breath. He soon gave up, the effort of doing so was making him dizzy.

He could feel Bant sending him as much healing energy as she could, and he was grateful. He knew full well that on his own, he would not be able to keep the agony at bay. He wondered idly how long they had been down there.

He and Bant had been talking about everything, anything to keep their minds off their injuries and their predicament. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to forget maturity and give into the ever-present panic. The maddening sound of water trickling down from the world above was no help, simultaneously driving them to distraction with its constant echo and reminding them that they were trapped.

Obi-Wan shifted slightly under the bar, biting back a moan at the pain the movement elicited. But he had a bigger problem. He could feel the cough rattling around in his chest, trying to emerge. He was desperately trying to hold it in, knowing that to release it would result in even more pain, and he wasn't sure how much more he could take.

The cough wormed its way up his throat, refusing to be contained. He barely had time to gasp Bant's name before it burst forth from his throat, exploding his vision into pure white. He struggled to breathe, felt Bant holding him, whispering to him, and latched onto her voice as an anchor once more.

"That's it, just take as deep a breath as you can and push the pain back. That's right, just like we were taught. Relegate the pain to a corner of your mind and just lock it away. You're okay, Obi, just breathe..."

He let her talk him though the pain, finally it subsided. He opened his eyes tiredly, saw only the blackness of their prison and closed his eyes again. He listened as Bant began to tell him about when she was chosen as a padawan, a story he had heard many times before. But her voice was comforting and he let himself drift.

Concentration wavered in and out of his grasp, and he knew at least some of what he said to Bant was non-sensical. But he couldn't help it, he hurt, he was cold, and he just wanted the pain to go away.

Bant was becoming more and more worried about her friend.

He was becoming increasingly confused, which she recognised as a symptom of oxygen deprivation. She knew he wasn't able to breathe properly due to his position, and he was sliding deeper into shock. She'd used as much of the Force as she could to heal him, wrapped it around him to try and make a Force-blanket, but it wouldn't be enough.

He would die.

She watched as Obi-Wan's eyelids dropped, lifted, fell again. He w as fighting unconsciousness. Allowing herself to give in to the panic just a little, she reached up to Jaeri again.

The younger padawan answered her mental query immediately, and Bant received the impression that she was glad to have someone to talk to . Belatedly, the Calamarian remembered that Jaeri was alone in her air pocket.

//Jaeri, how long before help gets to us?// she asked.

//I don't know, I'll ask the Knight above me...//

Silence reigned for long moment. When it dragged on too long, Bant called out again.

There was no reply for a terrifyingly extended second, then a joyful mental cry.

//I can feel them, I can hear them! Knight Timm has been rescued, and Master Qui-Gon just spoke to me! They're very near.//

Bant sent a wordless acknowledgement, accompanied by her own delight at the news.

She turned her attention back to Obi-Wan.

She touched his forehead lightly. The contact made his feelings flow into her - he wasn't capable of shielding at this point. The wave of tiredness and hurt emanating from him matched her own, and she tried to soothe him somewhat.

"I just spoke with Jaeri," she whispered, mindful of both the unstable debris still surrounding them and Obi-Wan's current inability to direct his mental powers properly. "She spoke with Qui-Gon. Just hold on a little longer, Obi, and we'll be free!"

She sensed Obi-Wan's struggle to comprehend words her, but his system had taken too much stress and was slowly shutting down.

"Can't...too tired..." His words were becoming slurred, and as she touched him, stroking his hair again, she could feel consciousness leave him.

Leaving her alone in the dark with what would soon be the corpse of her best friend.

Panic set back in for a moment and the padawan again called the younger girl above.

//Jaeri, tell them that Obi-Wan has lost consciousness again. Please, tell them to hurry...I...I don't know what to do...//

//Jaeri//

The voice was soft, yet insistent, rousing her from the light sleep she'd sunk into. She struggled to place the voice.

//Yes, Master Qui-Gon?//

//Can you sense those lower down still? How are they?//

The young woman concentrated for a long moment, sending out a probing tendril of thought. She felt the answer, and frowned, worriedly.

//What is it, Padawan?// She could hear the concern in Master Qui-Gon's voice for her, but she could also sense it was for those below her as well as herself.

//Bant says that Obi-Wan is unconscious again. She's very frightened.//

Jaeri could feel fear at that statement, but it was rapidly controlled.

//Hold on, Padawan. We'll be with you in a few moments. Please tell Bant also. We should be able to reach her soon//

//Yes, Master//

Sitting in the dark, Jaeri wrapped her standard issue cloak around her tightly. It was ridiculous, but she found being stuck here harder to bear now than before, when she didn't know when she would be rescued. Perhaps it was because her freedom was so close.

//Bant?//

//Yes, Jaeri?//

Her friend's voice sounded worried and Jaeri couldn't suppress a flinch. Obi-Wan must be in bad shape for her to be so frightened. //Master Qui-Gon said we'll be out really soon.//

//Thank the Force. Jaeri, how tired are you?//

//A little, why?//

//Have you studied how to use the Force for healing?//

Understanding dawned. //You want me to help Obi-Wan.//

//Yes//

The young padawan was nearly in tears as she replied, //I don't know how//

The elder padawan's voice was soothing, //It's alright. Just make sure they send a healer, then//

//I will//

Silence and dark once more. Jaeri shivered convulsively. She hoped Obi-Wan would be alright. But as she slowly thought her way through it, she realised he must be badly hurt. She could reach Bant mentally, but even when Bant had told her Obi-Wan was awake, she hadn't been able to reach him.

She was distracted from her musings by the faintest of sounds. But after hearing nothing with her ears for several hours, it seemed oppressively loud. She strained her hearing.

The sound was repeated. A shovel. Excavation droids. She could hear them digging. Another few minutes, the digging sounds getting closer, and she could hear murmuring voices.

//I can hear you!// she sent joyfully.

//Good// she felt the responsive joy at her call, but it was Master Windu who answered this time. //Try calling out//

//I'm afraid// she sent hesitantly. //It might make more things fall//

//It is alright, little one. We can feel you now. We are using the Force to strengthen the area around you. You will not be harmed//

Taking a deep breath, Jaeri called out.

"Master Windu? Master Qui-Gon? I'm here!"

A blessed voice responded. "We hear you, Jaeri. Have courage, little one, it will not be long now."

Though it was surely at least minutes, possibly half an hour, it seemed like seconds later when the wall opposite her began to crack, then tumbled in on itself. On her feet in an instant, she hurried to the hole created. She could see a hand reaching down from above, coming for her.

"Jaeri, grab my hand!"

The young girl reached as far as she could, almost sobbing in relief as another hand closed over her own. She had felt mental contact during the long hours she was trapped, but nothing matched the physical at this point.

As the hand pulled her toward blessed light, she felt Bant reach for her, but she couldn't respond as she was suddenly hauled out of the ground into the tunnel that had been dug to reach her. She blinked, rubbing her eyes, the dusk light streaming in the tunnel entrance still too bright for eyes that had become accustomed to the darkness. Strong arms enfolded her, and she buried her face in Master Windu's dirt stained tunic.

"It is alright, little one," he stroked her hair, rubbed her back comfortingly. "You are free."

As she blinked, Jaeri reflexively sent a response to Bant.

There was no answer.

Shock settled on her even as she heard Averil cry, "I can't feel her! Why can't I feel her?!"

The young padawan struggled to unsteady feet. "She was just there, she was calling me as you pulled me out!" Jaeri insisted. "She has to be there! Healer, they need a healer!"

Both Qui-Gon and Averil sent out calls to their padawans again.

No response from either of them.

Only silence.

Behind him, Qui-Gon was vaguely aware of a baritone shout, and he ignored the view from the corner of his eye that showed the joyful scene of Jaeri being reunited with her master, who had snuck in while the Healer wasn't looking. No, Qui-Gon couldn't focus on the pleasure beside him, his mind was straining for another that wouldn't answer.

Bant was frightened. It didn't matter that she had been taught to control her feelings, to release them through the Force, her fear was too great.

Obi-Wan was dying.

He hadn't regained consciousness, and she could feel him sliding deeper into the Force. Into death. She was scared and exhausted, all she wanted to do was sleep. Shifting as much as her body would allow, she kissed Obi-Wan's forehead and settled down so she was lying alongside him. Unsure what else to do for him, she kissed him again. She reached out to Jaeri to ask her what was happening, but there was no reply.

//Please let that be because she has been saved// Bant begged silently. She didn't know if Obi-Wan could hear her or not, but she spoke anyway, just to hear a sound in the still darkness besides the endless trickling of water.

"They're coming Obi. Just hold on." Tears ran down her cheeks. "I'm sorry Obi...I should be able to help...I love you my friend," she whispered as exhaustion overtook her and she slid into a semi-conscious sleep.

"That's it, we're through!"

The excavation droids pulled away the final pieces of rubble from the area designated as the safest place to dig, clearing an entrance hole.

Both Qui-Gon and Averil were forced to wait as the Healer entered first. The woman let out a brief shout. "I'll need some more medical help here, fast!"

As Windu hurried to request more assistance, Qui-Gon clambered in through the entrance.

It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dim light, the area was utterly black save for the powerful torches the rescue party held. It was by this mediocre light that Qui-Gon saw the Healer leaning over something. He strained his eyes to see.

Qui-Gon's heart stilled at the two motionless, blood splattered forms before them. Bant had managed to drag herself to Obi-Wan's side, despite the compound fracture of her leg that he could sense as well as see. Her hand still rested on his padawan's forehead.

His padawan.

Obi-Wan lay beneath a steel girder, the heavy bar lying across his back at a slight angle. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, also trailing down one cheek from a cut hidden beneath his hairline. His lips were blue, a sure sign of oxygen deprivation, caused by the weight that lay across him.

Qui-Gon became aware that he hadn't moved from the entry-way, and Averil was pushing him away from it, allowing herself access. The realisation broke his shock, and he dove forward to Obi-Wan's side in an instant.

The Healer did not even glance up at him as she ran a hand over Obi-Wan's forehead, gauging the severity of his injuries. Qui-Gon gently reached out and touched Obi's cheek. It was then he realised why the Healer looked so grim.

The Healer met his frantic gaze and nodded. "We need to get him out, now."

Unable to do anything more for Obi-Wan until he was freed, the Healer moved to Bant. The amphibian was just sitting up, rubbing the side of her head. Her Master had managed to wake her.

Qui-Gon vaguely heard the conversation between the three females, and felt the Force surge from the Healer as she repaired as many of Bant's injuries as possible.

A low rumbling filled the air, the unstable debris shifting as the room adjusted to the presence of more people. Qui-Gon threw up a Force-bubble to protect Obi-Wan from the small falling rocks. Once the tremor passed, he extended the bubble to cover the entire area, thankful to finally be doing something that felt like it was helping Obi-Wan.

At that moment, Mace returned, another Healer in tow. Immediately he and the original healer converged on Obi-Wan, muttering together in low voices and mental thoughts. Qui-Gon refused to move from Obi-Wan's side, and the Healers didn't try to force him.

After a moment they looked up. "We need to get this bar off. Between you three and Master Rallan here," Master Healer Xanetia jerked her head towards the other Healer, "you should be able to remove it without causing more damage. I won't be able to assist, there's a danger that his body will go into shock once the bar is removed. I need to stay with him."

Mace squinted at the beam holding Obi-Wan. "Lightsabres."

Qui-Gon nodded, drawing his from his belt as Windu did the same. There was a twin hiss, and the 'sabres flared to life, one green, one yellow. Qui-Gon bent and gently caressed Obi- Wan's pale cheek before he moved into position. A brief mental conversation saw Averil stand ready, and Master Rallan take over the task of maintaining the pocket of Force around them, to ensure that the ruins remained stable while they freed the trapped padawan.

"Ready?" The dark skinned man held his 'sabre aloft, positioned above the beam, two foot from Obi-Wan's prone form, Qui-Gon mimicking the position from the other side.

"Go."

The two Masters drove their blazing 'sabres into the metal of the beam, effectively slicing through the thick steel. Each kept a careful eye on the radiating heat from their work, ensuring that it did not touch Obi-Wan.

Averil moved into position as the men continued cutting inexorably. As the severed chunk was released from the stabilising weight of the remainder of the beam, the female master prevented it from crushing Obi-Wan further by bracketing it with the Force.

It was quickly done. The two larger portions of the steel bar fell aside, the piece holding Obi-Wan kept up by Averil. Once the required pieces were cut away, Mace and Qui-Gon moved to help the others. Windu took over holding the protective net of Force, allowing the healer to return to tending Obi-Wan, while Qui-Gon, with some aid from Bant, joined Averil in moving aside the steel on Obi-Wan, freeing him at last.

The transfer happened in seconds. Master Rallan released the Force-bubble, Windu picked it up, Averil, Qui-Gon and Bant placed the bar to one side and Obi-Wan's body went into shock.

Master Healer Xanetia let out a shout, hand on Obi-Wan's neck. "Lifebeat is unstable!" she cried warningly. Healer Rallan dove to her side, both struggling to keep Obi-Wan alive with the Force.

For long moments, nothing happened, and Qui-Gon couldn't bear it. He added his considerable Force power to that of the Healers, boosting the healing. But it still wasn't enough, Obi- Wan was dying in his grasp. Qui-Gon felt Mace and Averil also add their power, even Bant was pushing what little she could spare into Obi- Wan's body.

Slowly, Obi-Wan's body began to respond, the Force power within him building, reknitting bones, repairing cuts, encouraging blood to flow and the heart to pump. Preventing the brain from shutting down. But even as he allowed a modicum of hope to bloom within him, Qui-Gon realised that the amount of Force around them was far more than their combined efforts should be producing. Not even Master Yoda could summon the amount of Force present.

It tore through Obi-Wan's body, healing, repairing. The youth jerked once then lay still as the Force energy drained away. Qui- Gon met the other's shocked eyes, and knew immediately they had felt it as well. The inexplicable Force surge.

The Healers turned back to Obi-Wan, carefully checking him over once more as further aid finally arrived.

"Alright, please stand back, Masters, Obi-Wan is still badly hurt room here."

Reluctantly, Qui-Gon, Mace, Averil and Bant stood back as the Healers prepared to move Obi- Wan from the hole that had been his prison for the last twelve hours. With her Master's aid, Bant could walk, the Force surge that had saved Obi-Wan had also sped up the healing of her leg.

The Healers used the Force to cushion and lift Obi-Wan onto the waiting portable medibed, then carefully directed it up and out of the Temple ruins. Those remaining followed behind.

Qui-Gon still felt sick as his padawan was carried away. Obi-Wan might still die, it was a fact he couldn't deny. And what had caused the powerful Force storm? Sorely troubled, he followed his fellow Jedi to the surface.

The disguised Sith Lord and his apprentice, ostensibly there to give support and help to the Jedi, stood watching as the last live Jedi were brought out of the Temple ruins in the dusk light.

There was a female Calamarian who was still able to walk, though barely; she was being aided by a Alderaanian woman at her side - probably her master. Palpatine sent out a careful and well shielded inquiry in her direction. Broken leg, damaged eyes. Both would heal, given time.

He turned his attention to the one lying on the stretcher. A male, human. Also accompanied by a Master. As with the female, he sent out a probing thought. He raised his eyebrow at what he felt from the boy. His injuries were extensive and severe - he most certainly should not have survived several hours in the bowels of the Temple. The Force surge the Sith Lord had felt must have focused on the boy.

It was one of those two padawans, either the boy or the girl. The Force-surge could have been from the girl, trying to save the life of her friend, or the boy saving his own life. But there was no doubt that a larger-than-usual amount of Force had been used. That boy should not have survived his injuries.

Both would be watched very closely from now on.

Qui-Gon stared out across the endless ocean that unfolded before him, deliberately placing himself upwind of the lingering scent of burning bodies. All the Jedi were here this day, those that through chance or the miracle of the Force had survived. The Jedi mourned the loss of hundreds of their number, the emotion and Force use in the air palpable. Those non-Jedi that had died at the Temple had been returned to their families.

Obi-Wan was among the survivors.

Qui-Gon felt as though he could finally breathe again. Three days after he was extricated from the wreck of the Temple, Obi-Wan had finally been placed in a Bacta tank. It had been touch and go, but now the Healers were confident he would survive, though he would be weak for the weeks to come.

Qui-Gon drew his cloak more tightly around him, wishing it was Obi-Wan's warmth enfolding him. This was the first time in a week he had left Obi's side, and it was to attend the mass funeral of the dead. Even as he mourned for so many lost, friends, old teachers, old lovers, he felt immense relief that Obi-Wan was not amongst their number. But it had been so close. Almost too close.

The Jedi Master frowned briefly at the memory. Something about Obi-Wan's rescue was nagging at him, worrying his mind, but he could not remember what. The closest he could come was a vague recollection of a Force power level, but any further attempts to expound on the thought lead to no result. It was if his thoughts were dipped in Volhrurian honey, slow as taffy, yet impossible to hold, dissipating when touched by anything warm. But the Jedi dismissed it as unimportant at this point. Obi-Wan was alive.

The dead Jedi were being interred on Misharia, their ashes scattered in the planet's extensive ocean. Despite the planet's beauty, it had no permanent or native sentient inhabitants. This was mainly due to the tangible Force presence that permeated the entire world. While Force- sensitives found the aura immensely soothing, non-sensitives were apprehensive of it, and couldn't bear to stay for more than a few days.

It had been decided that the new Jedi Temple would be built here, rather than rebuilt on Coruscant. While the Senate relied heavily on the Jedi, perhaps too heavily, the Council felt that the city world of Coruscant was too choked in machines to serve as the Temple home world. On Misharia, the Force was vibrantly alive, not muted by the overwhelming presence of technology. Here the Force was tangible, strong, soothing to the Jedi, and isolated.

There were two major problems with the location. Firstly, it was rather far from Coruscant, slightly hindering the Senate's ability to call on the Jedi at short notice. The Council considered this beneficial, cutting down on the Senate's dependence on the Jedi, an attempt to strengthen the governing body of the Republic. Qui-Gon doubted it would work, but as he wasn't a Council member, it wasn't his problem.

The second problem was the Force presence of the planet. It would further compound rumours that were little more than Jedi fear-mongering, as the aura of Misharia would unnerve any non- Force sensitives. The Council had dismissed this as an unfounded concern, undoubtedly feeling Jedi serenity would overcome all. Qui- Gon personally thought that ignoring this was a grave error, fear of the Jedi was probably why the Coruscant Temple was destroyed.

Remembering the event brought another wave of nausea as he recalled the closeness of Obi- Wan's death. Shoving aside his reverie, the Jedi Master turned to head back to the shuttle that would return him to Coruscant and Obi- Wan's side by the next morning. He had been loathe to leave Obi-Wan, but he owed the dead his presence at their funeral.

As Qui-Gon strode back to the shuttle, he resolved to speak to the Council. Once Obi-Wan was up to it, they would perform the lifemating ceremony, with or without Council permission

Obi-Wan's near miss had brutally reminded the older Jedi that life spans were limited, and he would waste no more of his own and Obi-Wan's. Come hell or high water, Qui-Gon was determined that Obi-Wan would become his lifemate.

The Jedi Master would make sure that he would never have to go through this again.

Bant was fine, the healers were positive that they could fix her vision, but as it wasn't life threatening, it had to wait. The best they had been able to do was to partially restore it, but her vision was foggy. They had not been able to spare a Bacta tank for her either, all going to the number of severely injured, so her leg had been placed in an old fashioned cast and left to heal on its own, though she and her Master were encouraged to use the Force to heal her more quickly and make sure the bone set straight.

She had been given a cane, much like Master Yoda's, though much larger of course, to lean on, as the cast made her lose her balance. She wished briefly that Obi would wake up and see her staggering around like this, temporarily blinded and crippled so she could hear him laugh at her. Just to hear his voice again.

Her master guided her carefully into the mediunit, helping her stand in the small area that was quiet after the rest of the infirmary. The main area was swarming with recovering Jedi and Healers, but the patients in the worst condition were put in a quiet area, apart from the rest.

She caught her breath at the scene before her. Qui-Gon was asleep, leaning on the bed next to Obi-Wan. And Obi -

The padawan had always thought that the phrase about a person looking small and pale in a sick bed was an overly dramatic cliche, but now she saw it was true. Obi-Wan did look tiny against the medibed, though perhaps that was simply because he was dwarfed by the larger frame of his master.

Or maybe she could blame it on her damaged eyes.

"Hey, Master Jinn," she carefully shook the Master's shoulder.

"Huh? Obi-Wan?" He was awake in an instant. He focused bleary eyes on his padawan, registering little change in his condition before finally looking at Bant. "You look better. How's the leg?"

"Much better," the amphibious apprentice blushed. "I don't fall over nearly so often now."

Qui-Gon smiled at her. It was not quite his usual carefree grin he reserved for close friends and her, but it was close. Bant knew they wouldn't see the full grin until Obi-Wan woke up and proved he wasn't too much the worse for wear. He'd been in the Bacta tank and was sleeping it off in a healing trance.

But he was alive. That was more than Bant had been expecting. She shuddered briefly, remembering their time trapped underground. But she forced herself to breathe deeply and push the distressing memories back. That was past. They had survived.

She and her Master stayed a short while, but both were still exhausted from both the recent stress and the trek to Misharia and back. They had also attended the funeral.

On the way out, she nearly wacked Master Yoda with her cane accidentally as he came to check on his former padawan and his padawan.

"Hmm, heal you do, Padawan?" he asked her.

"Yes Master Yoda," she said respectfully.

"Heh," the little creature waved his cane at her grandly. "Cane like mine, have you do. Good for striking ankles, it is." The small Master wiggled his ears and eyebrows at Averil conspiratorially. "Learn to dodge you must!"

He endured their smiles, then sobered, a look of wisdom sliding onto his small gnomic face. "And Obi-Wan, how fares he?"

"He heals, Master," replied Averil. "Qui-Gon will not leave him."

"Hmmm," Yoda chewed the inside of one cheek. "Talk to him, I will. Qui-Gon also needs rest."

Qui-Gon reached out and gently ran a finger along the blue vein on the inside of Obi-Wan's pale wrist. He traced it from wrist to the elbow and back again, trying to let the faint vibrations of blood pumping beneath his fingers reassure him.

It wasn't working.

He wouldn't feel fully reassured until those green eyes opened and met his own. He knew that Obi-Wan would be fine, the Healers assured him of it daily, yet he wouldn't truly believe it until Obi-Wan was coherent again.

Qui-Gon gently clasped the pale, unmoving wrist. He leant forward until his head rested on Obi-Wan's motionless arm.

"Please, Obi," he whispered. "Please wake up for me."

"Wake up, he will. Do not fear, Qui-Gon."

The Jedi Master looked down at his wizened Master. "I know, my Master, but I am...impatient. We came too close to losing him."

Yoda sized up his former padawan, an act that involved stretching his neck to examine his face.

Qui-Gon looked terrible. His face was gaunt, deep hollows underlining both his eyes. It cemented Yoda's determination, and before Qui- Gon could realise what he was doing, he gave the Jedi Master a Force nudge.

"Tired you are," he murmured. "Rest you must!"

Qui-Gon blinked dazedly at him. "I am exhausted Master. Perhaps you could be with Obi-Wan while I go rest?"

"Yes, yes, stay with Obi-Wan I will." The dimunitive Jedi waved a hand peremptorily. "Go rest you will."

Qui-Gon rose and stumbled out the door, heading for the large hall a nearby resident had offered the Jedi as a temporary home. Yoda watched him go, then flattened his ears as he turned back to Obi-Wan.

"Know you, I do, young one. Know what you are."

For a time he simply sat, watching the soft rise and fall of Obi-Wan's chest as the padawan breathed in sleep. He was unhappily aware that the Temple's destruction would be a turning point in history, not because of the havoc it wreaked, but because of the young Jedi lying before him.

Like Palpatine, Yoda had felt the unusual amount of Force energy used in Obi-Wan's rescue. And like Palpatine, he knew what it meant.

The Chosen One was among them.

Yoda had always been aware that Obi-Wan's Force signature differed to the Jedi around him. It wasn't something easily defined, but it was noticeable.

Yoda shook his head, his ears sliding back in misery. "Hard path ahead of you, young one. Hope you can walk it, I do."

Palpatine frowned. He needed to think of a way to force the Chosen One's hand, a way to pick out which of the two he had seen was the child of prophecy. A plan that not only revealed the One, delivered them to Palpatine, but one that also got rid of Maul and lined Palpatine's pockets at the same time, preferably.

After a few more moments thought, the Senator- cum-Sith Lord leant forward on his desk and activated the intercom. As he heard the Toyndarian aide respond, Sidious smiled.

"Connect me with the offices of the Trade Federation. I want to speak to someone as high up as possible."

Palpatine folded his hands before him on the desk as he waited for the commcall to be put through. Oh, he had a plan all right. The Chosen One would be his.

~END~

Continued in a Sequel...

to be continued...