The Gift

 

"Transmute (15th century): To change or alter in form, appearance or nature, and especially to a higher form."
­Webster's Dictionary

I: TRANSMUTE

"If here is where it all may end --
another place that I have never seen --
and now the time to start again,
I realize tomorrow's where I've been.
I stole across the sands of time;
I'll never know when life began to end."
­Miriam Stockley,
"Miriam"

 

Chapter One

Eyes open, yet distant with absolute concentration and communion with the Force, Obi-Wan shifted his balance and reached for the next position in his kata. Naked muscle and sinewy limbs obeyed; nothing trembled or refused his demands.

[Is he slowing the movements even more?] wondered Qui-Gon, standing with arms folded at the edge of the grass that ringed the small garden attached to the rooms they'd been assigned on Sarsden. Raising an eyebrow, he watched as Obi-Wan slowed the exercise a fraction more, commanding his body with exquisite control and extending his expertise without his Master demanding it. [I am impressed.]

The kata the young man had chosen to perform over the last six months was the most difficult a Padawan could attempt. Not only did the positions demand, as a foundation, a physical perfection that most Padawan didn't bother to attempt, but Obi-Wan's mind had to merge with his body to successfully direct and guide its movements. This kata was an intricate dance that, depending upon the execution, either looked magnificent or totally incompetent. It demanded that each position be held motionless as marble for a traditional length of time before the Padawan's body was allowed to flow, in torturously slow increments, into the next position.

Qui-Gon knew how deliberate Obi-Wan's choice had been: in preparation and execution, this kata was an exercise in patience. If Obi-Wan could Master it, he would Master his own inborn, endless impatience. Qui-Gon could feel the concentrated effort it took to maintain the dance, could hear the mantra Obi-Wan had chanted for hours in meditation. [Perfect balance, perfect grace, perfect union with the Force.]

[Perfect,] Qui-Gon agreed, watching the sweat-sheened body move into the last positions. Tiring now, Obi-Wan sped up the kata as he moved into the next phase. [You are exquisitely beautiful, my Padawan.]

Desire jolted through Qui-Gon, making him gasp and arch slightly with the force of it, but with no great surprise. Arousal at the sight of his Padawan came quickly these days, as it had for months. Qui-Gon had all but gotten used to being half-erect around Obi-Wan. While the feeling was not unpleasant, the evidence of it could often be inconvenient. More than once, he'd had occasion to be grateful that Jedi robes hid so much from view.

What surprised Qui-Gon was the fact that he'd never had this problem before, had never been attracted to any other man. He'd watched countless padawan and Jedi in competition. Most had been half-naked and visions of perfect physical beauty. He'd admired their physiques, and their technique when it was warranted, but he'd never wanted to touch them. Not one of them had made his fingers tingle with desire. It had gotten so bad that cutting his padawan's hair was an exercise in torture. Showering together after practice had become impossible.

[Fool,] he sighed to himself. [You're too old for this. And he's far too young for it. And so, we endure. He has but a few months before I announce to the Council that he is ready for the trials. Once he perfects this kata, he *will* be ready. And then we will part. And his perfection will be with me no longer.]

Turning away as Obi-Wan completed the exercise, Qui-Gon swallowed hard against the tightness in his throat. [Son, friend, brother: I love him, would die for him. And I believe that I am also in love with him.]

"Master?" came the breathless, confused voice, so familiar and beloved. "Are you alright?"

Straightening his spine, Qui-Gon prepared a smile and turned around. "You are improving daily. I am much impressed. By Coruscant's autumn, you will have Mastered that kata."

"You think so?" Striding past Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan headed for the bath. Leaving the door open, he turned on the shower and stepped beneath the spray. "I don't feel all that confident. My mind still wanders, I get distracted."

"So what else is new?" Qui-Gon called over the sound of the water. Leaning against the door, he watched his student soap himself, and shifted uneasily as his erection grew. "With practice, Obi-Wan, you will triumph. But you know that; you don't need me telling you."

A snort was his Padawan's only reply: derisive, disrespectful and contradictory, all rolled into one. And totally Obi-Wan. Pushing away from the door, Qui-Gon sighed and went back out into the garden.

[It's my turn to discipline my own wandering mind,] he reflected, folding his long legs beneath him and settling into the posture he'd used in meditation for more than four decades. Steepling his hands, he closed his eyes. [You are not the only one who gets distracted, Padawan.] Between his legs throbbed a constant reminder of that distraction.

[Endure,] he ordered himself, directing his mind away from the demands of his physicality. [Ignore it; it will go away. At least for awhile. I hope.]

 

 

"How much longer before these negotiations are completed?" asked Obi-Wan, once more dressed and only slightly damp from his shower. Rubbing his hair with a towel, he encouraged it to dry.

Their mission to Sarsden had been an exercise in absolute, exhausting delicacy. One never said no to anything asked by the natives; to do so would have been interpreted as a grave insult to their king and his courtiers, which would result in the instant execution of whoever had given offense. Qui-Gon's skills as a diplomat had been sorely tested during his negotiations with the king on behalf of a neighboring, somewhat tactless planet desiring to purchase medical technology from the Sarsdenians. For Obi-Wan's part, all he'd had to do was be polite, walk two paces behind Qui-Gon, and eat whatever had been placed before him at the succulent banquets held every evening at the palace.

[Not a problem,] the always-hungry Padawan reflected.

"I have one last meeting this morning to tie up loose ends. You needn't attend." Qui-Gon handed Obi-Wan a communications disk. "Would you mind reviewing my notes before transmitting them to Chancellor Valorum? I've the uneasy feeling that I've forgotten something."

"You, Master?" Came a well-arched eyebrow and a look of disbelief amusement.

"Yes, well. I haven't been feeling quite so perfect as usual, these days."

Obi-Wan frowned at the derisive half-smile Qui-Gon gave before turning away and shrugging into his cloak. "Master?"

With a sigh, Qui-Gon laid a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Calm yourself, Obi-Wan. Everyone has an off day now and then. Even me."

[His hand is shaking,] Obi-Wan realized. [Perhaps the negotiations have been harder on him than I realized.]

"Thank you for..." Qui-Gon hesitated, and disturbed blue eyes held Obi-Wan's for a long moment before he finished. "Thank you for all of your help. I value it more than you know."

Reaching up, Obi-Wan clasped the long-fingered hand that was still draped across his shoulder. "Are you sure everything is alright?"

A knock came at the door, interrupting them before Qui-Gon could reply. Turning away, cloak billowing, he let his hand fall away from Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"Enter," he called.

A beautiful young woman with cat-slanted green eyes glided into the room. Folding her hands meekly, almost in supplication, she knelt before Padawan and Master and offered a shy smile.

"In gratitude for your service here, my king wishes to bestow a gift upon the two of you."

Kneeling beside the courtier, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan followed Sarsdenian custom and enclosed her hands -- Master's over hers, Padawan's over his. Each touched their forehead to the tips of her fingers.

"My Padawan and I would be honored to accept the gift of your king. However, his majesty expects me in conference this morning--"

"The gift will be given to your Padawan," said the woman. "Will he please come with me for the receiving?"

Qui-Gon bowed his head. "Of course."

"I would be honored." [I'll see you later, Master?]

[Well before dinner, Obi-Wan.]

Taking the hand the woman offered, Obi-Wan indicated that he would follow her. Rising, he let himself be led through a tangle of palace hallways. If he was ever to find their rooms again, he'd have to use the Force to guide himself.

Leaving the opulence of the palace far behind, the courtier led Obi-Wan into an underground complex that was obviously dedicated to medical practice. Bare white walls and floors replaced the tapestries and sculptures decorating the palace above. Med-droids strode by purposefully, pushing gurneys and equipment.

[What sort of gift do they give down here?] Obi-Wan wondered. He dared not ask, knowing that such a question would be considered an intrusion and an insult.

Their journey ended in a small room dominated by a long, intimidating piece of machinery that looked like some sort of huge, cylindrical scanner outfitted with a conveyor belt. Immense and potentially frightening, it was pierced by a hole in the middle, just large enough for a human body to fit through when it was placed on the belt that seemed provided for just that purpose.

Stepping behind the thing, the courtier announced, "You will lie here, please?"

Obedient to the end because he was required to be if he valued his life, Obi-Wan did as she asked. He almost expected restraints to be added, but the woman merely moved to a wall console and began punching keys.

The belt moved smoothly, delivering him feet first into the scanner-thing. Bright light blinded him and he closed his eyes. A foul smell assailed his nostrils, and then the world went black. The last thing he remembered was a loud hum and an almost unbearable heat on his body.

 

 

When he awoke, the world was different. Everything looked slightly bigger than normal. His bones felt lighter. And he was alone. [Where?]

He found himself back in the bedroom he'd shared with Qui-Gon for the past two weeks. Sitting up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and nearly fell sideways because the energy he'd needed to complete the action only that morning proved an effort in overkill this time. It felt almost as though the planet's gravity had changed -- or else his muscle mass had.

[That's impossible.] Rising, he swayed on feet that suddenly seemed too small. [What the Sith is wrong with me?]

The mirror opposite the bed answered the question the moment his eyes locked onto the image revealed there. He saw the reflected face lose all color, watched himself sway even as his vision darkened and his knees grew weak. Approaching the mirror, Obi-Wan reached out and touched his reflection. The face and the hand he saw brought a low moan to his lips. And then, for the first time in his life, he fainted.

 

 

For the third time that morning, Qui-Gon shivered against a disturbance in the Force that bore Obi-Wan's signature.

[Padawan?...] He sent the mind touch softly, subtly, and with much worry. [What is wrong?]

Sheer panic and shame met that call. [Oh, gods. I'm sorry, Master. I didn't mean to intrude. It's not important. Just, please, ignore me.]

[I cannot, *would* not. You are in distress. This meeting will be over soon. I will join you then, and you will tell me what is wrong.]

Absolutely misery and dread flowed through their bond at that mandate. And then, all was silent.

[Padawan?]

A mental sob was his only answer. Releasing the connection as his apprentice turned away from him mentally, Qui-Gon focused his attention back to the jovial king and willed him to end the meeting then and there.

 

 

Chapter Two

Qui-Gon strode into their assigned chambers like a warrior heading into battle, with lightsaber drawn and powered up, only to find himself confronted with darkness. Obi-Wan had drawn the curtains, had extinguished the lights. Passing through the common area, the Master sought his student's presence in the bedroom, but found it deserted. Nothing seemed amiss, everything was in its proper place. Returning to the common area, Qui-Gon searched their bond and discovered the disturbed aura that was Obi-Wan pulsing from the garden.

Throwing back the door leading onto the terrace, Qui-Gon paused on the threshold and let his eyes follow where the Force told him to look. Not fifteen feet away, only a few inches from where Obi-Wan had completed his kata that morning, a brown-cloaked figure leaned with its back against a shallot tree. Its hood was raised to conceal its face, its arms were wrapped around itself. Terror and distress billowed from outward, even as it seemed oblivious to Qui-Gon's arrival.

[Obi-Wan?] Qui-Gon thought softly, powering down his lightsaber and clipping it to his belt before moving slowly forward. [What is it, Padawan?]

Coming to stand beside his apprentice, Qui-Gon slid his hand over the younger man's shoulder. "I'm here, Obi-Wan."

Even as he spoke the words, he realized that the shoulder beneath his fingers did not feel the same as it had that morning. The bone was smaller, slighter. But it still *felt* like Obi-Wan.

A shiver of foreboding rippled down Qui-Gon's spine. He cast his thoughts back to the morning. "Did you receive the gift the king had in mind for us?"

A brief nod.

"What was it?"

Silence met that question, until a low moan drifted from beneath the cloak. On a sigh, Obi-Wan moved, shoving back the sleeves of the cloak to reveal two small hands. Reaching for the hood, those hands pushed it back and let it fall. Swallowing hard, Qui-Gon's apprentice lifted his head and stared up at his Master, who took a step back.

"By all the gods," he breathed. "What have they done to you?"

It was not Obi-Wan, and yet it was. The woman staring up at Qui-Gon had Obi-Wan's hair and his Padawan braid, but there the resemblance ended. Familiar, haunted green eyes looked out from a face so delicate, Qui-Gon worried that his broad hands might shatter it if he dared to do so much as brush a finger down her cheekbone. The cleft in the chin remained, as did the small ears. But the neck had become impossibly slender, and the shallow collarbone revealed by the now-too-large cloak bore witness that this young woman's build and bone structure was far less solid than Obi-Wan's had been. Whereas the top of Obi-Wan's head had reached Qui-Gon's nose, this woman could fit beneath his chin.

Once Qui-Gon had seen all that could be seen while his Padawan stood wrapped in the cloak, the Master wrapped his fingers around the edge of the heavy material.

"Obi-Wan?" he murmured, demanding entrance with a gentle, tentative tug.

She dropped her hands and closed her eyes.

[Permission to enter, I assume?] Qui-Gon lifted back one side of the heavy material and had his fears confirmed: the body beneath was entirely feminine. And Obi-Wan was breathing so rapidly, so shallowly, that Qui-Gon was afraid she would hyperventilate.

Closing the cloak, Qui-Gon closed his own eyes for a moment. [I'm the Master, I'm supposed to have all of the answers. But what am I supposed to do with this?]

Opening himself to Obi-Wan's feelings of deep shock and outrage mingled with fear, Qui-Gon sent what he hoped was calm reassurance through the bond they shared. Leaning down, he tentatively slid his arms around Obi-Wan. [He's strung tighter than an Alderaanian lute. Will he allow this touching?]

Gathering Obi-Wan in for a hug, even as he had gathered an injured doecta only the month before in Coruscant's park, calmed her, and carried her to the park authorities for treatment, the Master hugged his apprentice as hard as he dared and murmured, "Everything will be all right, Padawan. I will make it all right."

"I'm really happy to hear that," a low, attractive and definitely feminine voice responded, through gritted teeth, "because I'm obviously in no condition to help myself."

The voice was different, but the aura, emotions and especially the fierce delivery were so familiar that Qui-Gon almost laughed. Almost. Holding Obi-Wan as gently as he could, he shifted closer but dared not tighten his grip until Obi-Wan did it for him.

He didn't have to wait very long. Sliding her arms around Qui-Gon's waist, Obi-Wan burrowed into the safety of her Master's embrace and shoved her nose against Qui-Gon's chest, all in an obvious, if totally ineffective, attempt to hide.

When next Qui-Gon spoke, it was with his cheek braced against the top of Obi-Wan's head. "Padawan, how did this happen?"

"They've got some sort of machine down in the basement," she muttered into Qui-Gon's cloak. "That courtier made me go inside, and I came out like this. At least, I think I did. I don't really know what happened. I blacked out and when I woke up, I was back in our rooms."

"This, then, is the gift the king wished to give us?"

Shrug. "I don't know. I don't care. And I sure as Sith don't appreciate it. But..." Raising her head, she ventured, "I know that we can't ask the king to reverse the process -"

"If it's even reversable," the ever-reasonable Qui-Gon pointed out.

Fierce storm clouds lit the green eyes. "They have the technlogy to do this to me; they can damn well undo it!"

To ask them to do so is to ensure that we both die," Qui-Gon pointed out. "Is that what you're trying to accomplish?"

Shoving out of Qui-Gon's embrace, Obi-Wan paced around the tree. "It has to be obvious what I'd like to accomplish -- isn't it?"

Qui-Gon watched his Padawan go, robes trailing in the dirt. [He's lost at least four inches. All of the old clothes will be too large now. Have to get him -- er, her -- new ones.]

"Are you listening to me, Master?"

Qui-Gon pulled himself back to attention, even as he realized that he was staring hard at the young woman his apprentice had become. [If I thought he was beautiful as a man... I don't know what to call this.] His body did. Already, it was responding in ways that Qui-Gon knew would cause trouble.

"I'm sorry, Padawan. I was just... thinking."

On a sigh, Obi-Wan flung herself down against the trunk of the tree. Wrapping the cloak closer, she stared off into the distance. "I'm stuck with this, aren't I?"

"For now, I'm afraid so." Sinking down to sit cross-legged beside her, Qui-Gon thought aloud. "This is the situation we've been given; we must both deal with it."

"Yeah? Well, you're not the one who woke up a girl. Nothing's happened to you, so I think it's going to be a lot easier for you to deal with it than it is for me. In all of my nightmares, I never envisioned *this* happening."

"Nor I. But the negotiations are completed, Padawan. Our ship awaits to return us to Coruscant."

Obi-Wan took a moment to digest the news. "So I have to go back home and show everyone at the Temple the new me?" He shivered. "What about my being your apprentice?"

Qui-Gon met his apprentice's gaze steadily, serenely. "Your sex changes nothing between us. I could have chosen a female apprentice all those years ago. You know as well as I do that lightsaber techniques have nothing to do with the physical strength of your opponent. Male or female, we meet as equals in competition or in battle."

"Is that what you'll tell the Council?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "I will not have to defend our continuing relationship, Padawan. 'Judge not by appearances,' remember? The Council is not so hypocritical that they will remove you from my care. Adjustments will have to be made to our lifestyle and in your lessons to accommodate your new body, but I believe that you find that things are, in the long run, easier for you."

"EASIER?"

Qui-Gon nodded briefly. "Male opponents tend to underestimate female opponents. In addition, your build is more compact now, less gravity bound. The aerial maneuvers you love so well will be easier for you to execute. You may even manage to slip past my guard once or twice a session."

That earned him a dark look. "If that's supposed to make me feel better, it's not working."

"Mmmm. We'll see." He dared to let his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Obi-Wan shook her head. "I don't like this, Master."

"Given time, perhaps you will find things to like about it, until we can make arrangements to change you back. If you think about it as a new experience, a temporary adventure?" Off of Obi-Wan's skeptical look, Qui-Gon continued. "Once we are back on Coruscant, I will make inquiries. Surely, this is not the only planet in the galaxy arranging these sorts of...."

"Sex changes. That's what they're called. For the record, I've never wanted one."

Getting to his feet, Qui-Gon said, "Be that as it may, you have received one. Let us go home and further deal with the matter there, in safety."

On a sigh, Obi-Wan gathered her robes and rose. Leaning down, Qui-Gon grasped her elbow and lent his support, as any gentleman would aid a lady to her feet. Once upright, Obi-Wan rocked back, stared up at Qui-Gon, and narrowed her eyes.

Recognizing his error, the Master gave an apologetic half-smile and withdrew his hand. "I'm sorry, Padawan. Habit, I suppose."

"Right."

They stood staring at each other for a moment until Qui-Gon realized that he was still instinctively yielding to Obi-Wan's femininity and waiting for his Padawan to precede him into their rooms. From the rebellious expression on Obi-Wan's face, Qui-Gon knew that the offer had been recognized and refused long before Qui-Gon had even realized what he was doing. Resisting the urge even then to usher her before him, Qui-Gon drew a deep, heavy sigh, gathered his robes and his dignity, and walked in front of Obi-Wan.

"This is not going to be easy," he muttered beneath his breath.

"You can say that again."

 

Chapter Three

"I'll meet you in our quarters, all right?" Obi-Wan spoke from beneath her hood, not waiting for her Master's reply before taking the first branching hallway in the Jedi Temple and all but sprinting away.

Their trip back to Coruscant had been uneventful, except for the fact that Obi-Wan hadn't climbed out of her cloak for a moment during the journey. She wanted new clothing that fit, and right now. Arriving at General Supply and Stores, she stalked past the droid clerk -- who didn't even give the Jedi a glance -- and into the order/sizing booth. Punching Qui-Gon's purchase code into the computer, she hesitated at the "Name" screen, which listed Master Jinn and Padadroid taking my measurements.]

On a sigh, she continued down the list. [Boots. Definitely need boots. Two pair. Mine are far too big now. And running shoes. And swimwear.] Another shudder. But it was necessary and, suddenly, the entire magnitude of what she was doing was just too much. Shoving away new feelings of panic, Obi-Wan grit her teeth and completed the order. [I'll get whatever else I need later.]

Trying to ignore her reflection in the mirror covering one wall, she dropped her cloak, shrugged out of her old, baggy clothing, and gave permission to the service droid to begin working.

The measurements were taken swifly, impersonally. She stood with her eyes closed throughout the entire process, muttering only, "Bring one complete set of clothes and boots to me here. Deliver the rest to my quarters."

"Yes, sir."

Slotting itself back into the wall console, the droid buzzed and whirred its information to the next droids in line. Even as Obi-Wan covered her nakedness with the cloak and waited impatiently, her order was completed by mechanicals in the back room that sewed new tunics and leggings according to his new measurements. In a matter of minutes, a droid knocked at the booth door. Slitting it open, Obi-Wan all but grabbed her new clothes.

Pooling the old cloak at her feet, she all but leaped into the familiar tunic and leggings. Never before had she been so grateful for clothes that fit. Smoothing down the front of the tunic, she wrapped the new utility belt around her waist, snatched up her lightsaber, and went to clip it in place.

Halting momentarily, she stared at the weapon in his hands. They were small hands, now -- too small to grip it properly. The saber that Obi-Wan had built specifically to match *his* hands and *his* aura, the saber that had been a living extension of *his* mind and intent, now felt bulky, unbalanced, and wrong in her hands. Stunned, Obi-Wan realized that she'd have to construct a new one. It was just one more humliation. What diabolical new ones would the universe have in store over the next few days? Or months?

In the meantime, she still had the knowledge and the right to carry the weapon. Squaring her narrow shoulders and determined to deal with the situation as best she could, Obi-Wan clipped the weapon to its accustomed place and continued dressing.

The boots fit beautifully, hugging her small feet and feeling as though they weren't even there, which was a major requirement in practice, on missions, and in battle. Getting to her feet, Obi-Wan finally raised her head to confront the reflection in the mirror.

A small young woman with a decidedly defiant expression glowered back at her. Her eyes were hostile and defensive, her expression stressed. She wore a tunic three sizes below the one Obi-Wan used to wear.

[I look like my little sister,] she groused, [if I had a little sister.]

Dismissing the reflection with a wobbly sneer, Obi-Wan bundled her old clothes in the cloak and exited the booth. Crossing to the counter where the droid clerk waited, she slid the bundle across the counter.

"See that these are delivered to my quarters along with the rest of my order."

"Yes, Jedi." The droid shoved a credit board and stylus toward Obi-Wan.

She whistled low at the total waiting there, feeling a momentary twinge of conscience that her Master would have to pay the bill.

[On the other hand,] Obi-Wan thought as she signed the board, [my Master can't very well insist that I run around naked, can he? And it's not as if I don't need this stuff. I sure wish I didn't.]

Thank you, Jedi," came the tinny dismissal as Obi-Wan left the center.

Obi-Wan made a deliberate effort to slow her walk through the temple hallways, knowing that to rush would attract unnecessary attention. Though the seven ringed worlds of Alcazor might be on fire, a Jedi *never* hurried through the Temple. One meandered, at peace, even if one had to pretend -- which Obi-Wan did this time, slamming up her mental shields and refusing to meet anyone's gaze.

Reaching the last bank of elevators she had to navigate before reaching the level containing his and Qui-Gon's rooms, Obi-Wan punched the button and all but bounced impatiently on her feet as the car took its sweet time in arriving.

"So, are you and Master Epping entering the latest competition?" Obi-Wan heard Mace Windu's voice behind her.

[Oh...no....]

"My Master is thinking on it."

That voice would belong to Epping's gossipy little apprentice, Tong-Maxel. Staring straight ahead, Obi-Wan wondered if it would look too obvious if she simply turned and walked away.

"And you, young lady?" A heavy hand landed on her shoulder. "What of you and your Master?"

"I..." Obi-Wan glanced up at Windu, who blinked in confusion as he stared down at an apprentice he didn't recognize. The elevator chose that moment to arrive and Obi-Wan stepped forward, only to find her progress halted by Windu's hand, which pressed insistently upon her shoulder.

"A moment of your time, if you please, Padawan?" The Jedi Councilman's voice was cool, low, and deadly.

Obi-Wan froze in place as Windu's hand went to the hilt of his lightsaber. [Oh, this is great. He probably thinks that I'm some witless imposter and security threat from the seamier side of Coruscant.]

Tong-Maxel hovered at the Master's elbow, eyebrows climbing as he stared at Obi-Wan. Looking more than a little interested at the developing conflict, the apprentice didn't bother to shield his thoughts.

[Gods, what a looker,] Obi-Wan heard through the Force.

[Does he mean me?]

"Tong, your Master awaits," said Mace Windu, his gaze never shifting from Obi-Wan.

Bowing slightly, Tong-Maxel backed into the elevator. "Yes, Master Windu. Good-night, sir."

"Good-night."

Tong's wink and grinning leer reinforced the Force-driven thought delivered straight into Obi-Wan's mind. [I'll remember you, babe.]

An insistent hand at Obi-Wan's elbow guided her away from the bank of elevators.

"How is it, Padawan, that I know every apprentice here, but do not recognize you?" Windu demanded, his voice all but a growl.

Folding her hands behind her and trying to project harmlessness, Obi-Wan stared at her boots. "I've... changed... since my Master and I visited Sarsden, sir."

"You claim to live here at the Temple?"

The briefest nod.

"And your Master is?...."

"Qui-Gon Jinn, sir."

She heard Windu's swift intake of breath, felt his shock ripple through the Force. A large hand claimed Obi-Wan's chin to lift it roughly. Defensive gray-green eyes met Windu's dark brown. For a moment, the Jedi Master simply stared, letting his gaze rove the fine features.

"Obi-Wan?..." he finally rasped.

"Yeah. It's me," she said darkly.

Windu swallowed hard. "How did this happen?"

Obi-Wan offered a bitter smile. "I'm sure that my Master is working on a report even now that explains it. I'm not too happy about it, myself."

"You didn't seek this...change?"

"You have *got* to be kidding!" She all but snarled, wrenching her chin out of the Master's grasp and backing up a pace. "This has been a very bad week, and we just got back this morning. I came down here to get some new clothes 'cause mine don't fit any more. I don't want any trouble, Master Windu. I'm not *causing* any trouble. I'm just standing here waiting for the elevator to take me home. And, to answer your original question, my Master and I *are* registered to compete next week, but I don't know if he still wants to. Now."

Obi-Wan and his Master had been looking forward to the competition, where Master and Padawan were paired to fight others until only one set of champions remained. For the first time during Obi-Wan's training, Qui-Gon had said that they had a very good chance of winning. [Well, I went and wrecked that, now, didn't I?]

Much to Obi-Wan's chagrin, her eyes began filling with tears, and a sob caught in her throat. Pushing past Windu, who was still standing slack-jawed with shock, she stomped back over to the bank of elevators and punched the button. Again.

Watching Obi-Wan go, Windu noted the fully masculine stride being sported by this delicate creature. Grinning, he followed after.

"Um, you might want to tone down that walk of yours, son... er... Padawan."

Obi-Wan stared up at him, totally uncomprehending.

Still grinning, the Jedi Master slowly circled the apprentice with an appraising eye. "It really *is* you."

Obi-Wan bit her lip to keep back the sarcastic reply that at once came to mind. "The Council would be very interested in hearing about this," Windu was all but babbling now. "In all of the annuls of Jedi history, I don't think there's been another case like this. Please tell Qui-Gon that we'll expect him first thing tomorrow morning."

The elevator door opened. "I'll do that."

Stepping inside the car, Obi-Wan slammed her fist into the button commanding the door to close. Before Windu could follow, she was on her way up. Without the Master.

 

 

Obi-Wan was crying openly by the time she reached the rooms she shared with Qui-Gon. The door slid closed behind her, locking the rest of the world out. She leaned her back against it for a moment and tried to release the tension, tried to let the grief channel through her and into the Force, tried to comprehend everything she'd been only yesterday, and had now lost.

"Obi-Wan?" a familiar voice spoke from Qui-Gon's sleeping room. And then he was there, filling the doorframe, broad and immense, and Obi-Wan had never been so conscious, nor so jealous, of the man's size and masculinity.

Pushing away from the door, Obi-Wan bowed slightly and swiped at the tears coursing down her cheeks. "Master Windu and I met at the elevators. He was most amused to learn of the changes that took place on Sarsden. He desires that we attend tomorrow morning's Council meeting. And I didn't mean to disturb you, Master. I know that I should be meditating."

She almost made it to her own room. Almost.

"Before you go..." Qui-Gon murmured softly.

She didn't turn around. "Yes, Master?"

"Tell me what you are feeling, Padawan. What you are thinking."

Turning, she raised his hands and stared at them.

"Look at these." She waggled his fingers. "They're small and vulnerable. All of me is vulnerable now, and I feel totally inadequate in ways that you probably can't imagine." She eyed her Master's bulk. "No, let's make that in ways you *definitely* can't imagine, Master."

Crossing the distance between them, Obi-Wan took Qui-Gon's hands in her own. Turning them palm up, she laid her own hands across them. They fit, like a child's inside its father's.

"All you'd have to do is close your fingers and squeeze, and there'd go all of the bones. Pulverized. Useless. And I couldn't do a thing about it."

Qui-Gon's gaze reflected back Obi-Wan's pain. "You aren't that vulnerable."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, I am. Until I learn how to adjust to this, I am. Weak. A liability fighting beside you."

"Liabilities can be changed into advantages. You know that as well as I do."

"With time, yeah. Sure. I can adjust and relearn." She lifted her tear-stained face, clear green eyes locking into Qui-Gon's worried blue. "How many more years will this add to my apprenticeship, Master?"

A sad smile flitted across Qui-Gon's lips. "Are you so eager to be rid of me, Padawan?"

She shook his head. "No. But I felt strong and competent yesterday, Master. Almost a Jedi. And you were proud of me, of what I could do. Now...." She curled his fingers halfway around Qui-Gon's wrist -- all he could reach. "The whole world is too big now. Even my lightsaber, and I"ll have to make another one. It's not all that difficult, and of course I know how, so it's stupid to cry about something like that. But can I stop the tears?" She shook her head and shrugged. "Nope. Not yet, anyway. I don't even understand all of the reasons why I'm crying. Everything I used to know... it's all changed."

"Oh, Padawan...." Qui-Gon stroked down Obi-Wan's cheek, erasing a tear track.

Obi-Wan let him. Fighting about it just didn't seem worth it right then. Especially not with this man, who had always known all of her secrets, fears, and dreams. On a sigh, she closed his eyes and leaned into Qui-Gon's touch when the big man cupped the side of his face. Resting in the coolness, in his Master's quiet strength, Obi-Wan continued.

"I'm really dreading having to bathe this body," she confessed. "I don't even want to practice with you tonight, because I'm afraid that I won't be able to do anything I could do yesterday. I look into people's faces, and they react in ways that frighten me." Opening her eyes, she stared up at Qui-Gon, who was listening intently. "Where am I in my training now, Master? Who am I, now?"

"I don't know, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon whispered, daring to caress the jaw beneath his fingers. "But we will learn together. I promise that you will not be alone on this journey." His blue eyes contained worlds of thought, unspoken: [My love and my care is all that I have ever had to give you, and time enough to learn. There has never been anything else. Is it enough, Obi-Wan?]

Tentatively, as though fairly certain that Obi-Wan would refuse him, Qui-Gon stepped back and offered a hesitant, crooked smile before opening his arms. That small space between them was another offering, Obi-Wan knew: space enough for her to shake her head, to refuse the comfort offered. No offense meant, none taken, and Qui-Gon would leave his Padawan to her meditations, leave her to handle the tears alone.

Even that small space was too big this afternoon. Two steps, and Obi-Wan didn't think before sliding her arms around Qui-Gon's waist. She did it because she needed to be closer, needed her Master's strength, support, and unchanging maleness -- as though Obi-Wan could absorb part of it into himself somehow, and be reassured by it.

Qui-Gon was much bigger than Obi-Wan had ever realized, and when he embraced his Padawan, his arms more than came around her. The Master bowed his entire body over her, enveloping her in such love that she shuddered with the enormity of it. Burrowing even closer, she sighed and released most of the tension and the worry, felt it dissolve under Qui-Gon's solid protection and caring.

Qui-Gon's large hands dared to caress the small of Obi-Wan's back, making her push her hips more strongly against Qui-Gon's thighs, accepting the soothing comfort and wanting nothing more than to believe that everything would be all right, that Qui-Gon could make it all right.

"We will meditate together," Qui-Gon rumbled, and Obi-Wan felt the vibration deep inside herself. "Afterward, we will have dinner and--"

"Practice," she whispered. "My 'saber is all the wrong size, now."

"It will do for this evening. After the Council meeting tomorrow, we will construct a new one for you."

Qui-Gon held Obi-Wan for a very long time, feeding calm confidence and love through the bond they shared, steadying his breathing and letting that breath stir the top of Obi-Wan's head. Slowly, Obi-Wan came to match her Master. Eventually, she allowed Qui-Gon to lead the way over to their huge bay window, overlooking the Temple gardens.

"Do you feel able to meditate now?"

Obi-Wan nodded, released her Master, and sank to her knees. Settling himself, she looked up. "Would you care to suggest a focus?"

Qui-Gon thought a moment. "Spacial relationships, I think. Contemplate where the subjective you ends and the objective universe begins."

[Where shin meets table in the dark,] Obi-Wan thought. [Or lightsaber becomes an extension of self.] Nodding, she accepted the assignment.

Qui-Gon smiled slightly to see his Padawan's thoughtful look, the furrowed brow that turned his expression almost into a scowl. [Ah, Obi-Wan... Some things will never change.]

With a sigh, his Padawan relaxed into trance. After watching over her for a few minutes more to assure himself that Obi-Wan had found her spiritual center, Qui-Gon knelt beside her and followed after.

 

 

Chapter Four

"Ouch! Sith take it!" Spinning about, Obi-Wan all but dropped her lightsaber, tossing it to her left hand and shaking out her fingers, which had just been stung by a well-placed blow to the hilt.

Qui-Gon spun his lightsaber easily and paced before her. The Master's body tensed, his blue eyes smoldered with a kind of heated, contained energy Obi-Wan was all too familiar with. "Where is your center?"

"Nowhere near my hand! Why did you do that?"

"Because I could. Theoretically, you now have no fingers and are incapable of holding your weapon in that hand. Where is your center?"

Before he'd stopped speaking, Obi-Wan had swung into the offensive and launched herself at him, expecting the easy power of well-honed muscle to answer as it always had for years.

Without the slightest hesitation, Qui-Gon repelled the attack. In less than three slamming blows, he drove Obi-Wan backward across the mat, making her all but whirl and run from him. Obi-Wan did the next best thing: she flipped over Qui-Gon's head in hopes of gaining some distance, some control. She quickly discovered how stupid that was, since Qui-Gon's tall frame let him pivot, take but a single step forward, and engage Obi-Wan's weapon so quickly and so closely that she nearly wasn't there to block it.

Their 'sabers clashed so hard, Obi-Wan's teeth vibrated. Her Master was so close, she could feel the overwhelming power radiating off of him. She had the feeling that Qui-Gon wasn't even half-trying to defeat her; his command of the Force and 'saber technique was absolute. It was what made him a Master, a great part of what defined him. It was also what he usually clothed beneath a veneer of calm dignity and gentleness. His was the ultimate training: to attack with powerful hands, spirit and body, accelerating sharply to an almost inhuman speed.

Obi-Wan had thought that she understood the way of the austere warrior after dueling with Qui-Gon and fighting beside him for so many years -- almost from the moment they'd met. But she knew now that she's taken too much for granted. Today, she understood how little she actually knew of the man.

Qui-Gon Jinn's strength, knowledge and experience had protected his apprentice. He had made every effort to teach it to her and she had learned, but couldn't use it now. She could see it in him, feel and almost taste his power as they breathed together. She was drawn into that power, fed on it, and knew it as so very male. Only now, Obi-Wan understand that Qui-Gon's heavy masculinity was much of what made him a Master, and one of the greatest among the Jedi. He had been teaching it to Obi-Wan, who had been adapting it to his own abilities and needs. But it was useless knowledge now, all gone.

Shivering slightly as her Master's breath stirred her hair, Obi-Wan backed up a step in an effort to put some distance between Qui-Gon and her pounding heart, only to know instantly that she'd made a mistake.

Shoving Obi-Wan's shoulder, and not even bothering to use the Force to do it, Qui-Gon sent her spinning away. The Master's unforgiving lightsaber came streaking after, seemingly intent upon beating Obi-Wan down into total humiliation. Obi-Wan twisted desperately in an attempt to out-reach her Master and failed miserably as her shorter arms couldn't compete with Qui-Gon's long limbs. There was no question of getting under his guard; all Obi-Wan could do was backpedal and try to protect her vitals.

All of the power Obi-Wan had worked for years to acquire... it simply wasn't there. Qui-Gon was longer and faster, more aggressive and just plain better at what he was doing. He gave her no room to maneuver or to breathe, much less to fight.

[I can't come anywhere near him,] she lamented. [His arms are so long, it feels like he's always on the other side of the blasted *room*!]

Sheer desperation made Obi-Wan continue the fight long past the time when she should have conceded defeat. She tried every technique she'd been taught, and a few she thought up on the spot. Yet nothing worked; Qui-Gon could defend all too easily against everything that Obi-Wan knew to do. Her lungs burned and her arms began wavering, but pride would not let her stop.

It was Qui-Gon who finally put an end to it. Locking his weapon against Obi-Wan's, he tangled the pulsing, sputtering blades around and around before slamming it down and out of Obi-Wan's hand. She let it go, not giving a damn when it rolled across the mat, far away from her. Dropping to her knees, she sucked in great gulps of air. Blinking against the sweat running in rivulets down her face, she wiped it away almost viciously and noted with deep resentment that her Master wasn't even winded.

[Why should I bother making a new lightsaber?] she wondered. [I'm not going to do any better with it.]

Peripherally, she was aware that Master Windu had slipped through the door into the private practice room. Keeping to the shadows beyond the mat, the Councilman watched quietly.

"I could behead you where you sit," Qui-Gon growled, stalking behind Obi-Wan like a menacing desert cat. His booted feet whispered over the mat until he stopped and stood with his legs against Obi-Wan's back. His lightsaber thrummed in the silence; Obi-Wan could see its green glow out the corner of her eye. Qui-Gon's words were quiet, for his Padawan's ears only, and the bulk of his body shielded both of them from Windu's view.

Leaning over, Qui-Gon casually tangled Obi-Wan's braid around his finger, pulled steadily on it to get him to raise her head. The gesture was so dominant and so possessive that Obi-Wan didn't know whether she liked or hated it. The confusion rising inside her drove her even further off balance.

"Stand up, Padawan," Qui-Gon all but purred. His lips teased so closely, Obi-Wan could have sworn that the Master was kissing the soft skin just behind her ear.

Obi-Wan gasped as pure desire spiked deep within her -- a feeling totally unlike any he'd ever felt as a man. In the 'him' she'd been, arousal had spiraled outward, reaching and swelling. Now, it was a flame deep within, contained and yearning for Qui-Gon to do something else, anything else, to make the spiral come again. When Qui-Gon did not, the flame faded to almost nothing, but Obi-Wan sensed that it was still there, would always be there, waiting for Qui-Gon to ignite it again.

[That's damn unsettling!] she thought to the inner part of herself that she felt had betrayed her.

"Call your weapon to you." That voice again. In the same place. Stirring behind that same ear. "Find your center. Padawan."

Qui-Gon breathed the last word into Obi-Wan's ear, and suddenly she couldn't think or breathe.

"Master?" She looked over her shoulder and found Qui-Gon's face so close that she could have kissed his cheek. "What are you doing?"

"Teaching you, my Padawan."

Almost, his lips brushed hers. The next moment, Qui-Gon swept his saber around, and Obi-Wan knew that she had no time to get away from the weapon. Yet she had to -- *had* to -- if only to prove to herself that he still could.

Force-leaping sideways, she commanded smaller muscles that answered instantly, and with far less effort than she'd had to expend if she'd still been a man. She barely made it, but make it he did.

Landing on one foot at a right angle to Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan kicked his wrist with her other foot. The blow landed true, flinging the weapon wide, but Qui-Gon summoned it back before it hit the floor. The blade barely had time to extinguish itself before it was back in the Master's hand and alight once more, but by then Obi-Wan had removed herself from any immediate danger.

[He tried to kiss me, and then he tried to KILL me!] Obi-Wan knew the supposed betrayal was only another lesson. She could protest how unfair it had been of Qui-Gon, or she could fight. She snarled down the first option and wondered why it had occurred to her at all. She'd last had that reaction as a frustrated, hormonally unbalanced Initiate years ago, and she'd certainly never felt the need for it with her Master, no matter what Qui-Gon put his Padawan through. Reaching out, Obi-Wan commanded her saber to her hand. [At least I can still do this!]

Balancing with muscle-fatigued effort and trying desperately to conceal it, she never saw the flash of approval in Qui-Gon's eyes.

"Where is your center?" he demanded yet again, stalking his apprentice yet again across the mat. His voice was all but a growl, his eyes still held the same 'Quarter-be-damned!' look Obi-Wan had seen in real battles.

[Yes, but it's never been directed at *me* before!] "Master, I--"

"You what? Padawan!" he growled. "*Where* is your center?"

Obi-Wan didn't bother powering up the 'saber. Instead, she stood calmly in the first position even as Qui-Gon loomed over her, the Master's own weapon tight over his head, ready to strike.

[You won't hurt me,] Obi-Wan thought into the bond between them. [If you hurt me, it won't teach me a thing.]

Obi-Wan knew that her Master was shielding his thoughts even as his eyes still threatened certain death, but she didn't care. What Qui-Gon was really thinking didn't matter. This session between Padawan Learner and Master was all; the lesson to be gained meant even more. If Obi-Wan couldn't learn it, if she ended by being fearful of her own Master, then she might as well just hand Qui-Gon her saber and walk out of the Temple then and there.

[Forget it, Master. I just don't believe you. And I don't need to fight right now. I need to *think* about this.]

Feet spread slightly, the now-ungainly lightsaber held lightly before her, she closed his eyes. Seeking peace within, she pondered what her Master wanted her to learn. Fighting only to fail certainly wasn't it.

Qui-Gon still stood before her; Obi-Wan could feel it. And then she heard the lightsaber deactivate.

"Do you remember visiting Queen Shagura's stables, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asked, and the words were no pleasant reminiscence to pass the time. Urgent purpose lay behind them.

Obi-Wan all but jumped when Qui-Gon's fingers slipped around her wrists, the Master's hands halfway up her arms because those hands were so big.

"Do you remember the stallions -- supremely strong, confident and dangerous in their virilit acknowledged. [I have to accept that and use it. There has to be a way.] Qui-Gon slipped a hand behind Obi-Wan to caress the length of her back before pressing his hips against hers. All thought of what Obi-Wan was attempting to learn, attempting to discover in order to defend herself against this man, fled.

"A stallion will rage at you again and again until you are down and bloody and dying -- or you wish you were," the Master murmured. "But a mare...."

Pulling Obi-Wan up tight against him, Qui-Gon lifted his apprentice slightly. With his free hand, he cupped Obi-Wan's chin. Knowing it would irritate her, Qui-Gon did it anyway, just to ensure that he had his Padawan's full attention. Obi-Wan's eyes flew open, and their green depths were not friendly. Qui-Gon didn't care.

"A mare will drive you away." He enunciated every word. "She will run at you, slash you, whirl and kick you. And then she will take off. The stallion tries to kill you. But the mare drives you away." Lightly, she brushed down Obi-Wan's nose and gave a half-smile. "Where is your center, Padawan?"

Releasing Obi-Wan so abruptly that she almost fell back, Qui-Gon resumed his pacing, watching, and waiting. Inscrutable blue eyes bore into Obi-Wan's own clouded gray-green.

Shivering so hard that she knew Qui-Gon could see it, Obi-Wan glowered. [Stop confusing me even more than I already am!]

Ignoring Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan took the liberty -- and the risk -- of closing her eyes again and trying to think things through. [Force guide me, please. He's making everything a tangle in here, but I have *got* to work through this in the next few minutes. Where am I?... Never mind where is he.]

[... I have to work a lot harder at fighting now and I'm not getting anywhere near the same results as before.] Swiftly, she ran through the fight they'd just finished. [I'm a girl now, so how would a girl do it? How would a mare drive Qui-Gon away?]

She let the images flow.

[I can't fight from strength. I'll have to use speed and skill,] she realized. [Hit and run; get in, get out. I can do that.] A smile threatened the corners of her mouth. Obi-Wan slammed down on her hope, lest her Master sense it. [And don't get cocky; this might not work.]

[Where is my center? Where *was* my center?] In Obi-Wan's mind, she set her old body and her new one side by side. [The most obvious difference is that I don't have the same muscle mass as before. My predominant strength used to be in my arms and shoulders, in my upper body. Just as is *his*.]

[Women carry theirs lower,] she realized. [That means my center is lower, in my solar plexus and hips. So... I should use...my spine and my hips more? Let's see where that gets me.]

Opening her eyes, Obi-Wan powered up her lightsaber and braced her feet a bit less widely than she used to. Aligning herself over this new center -- which was deep within, where the flames Qui-Gon had ignited still smoldered -- she nodded readiness to Qui-Gon, who startled Obi-Wan by holding up a hand to halt the session before it had even begun.

"A moment, please." Whirling, he strode off of the mat and up to the group of at least four Council members who were now lurking in the wings.

[Where did they come from?] wondered Obi-Wan, lowering her saber. [I didn't hear them come in.]

"This is a private session," Qui-Gon all but growled at the intruders. "While I'm sure that the rumors regarding our adventures on Sarsden have flown fast and furious, now is neither the time nor the place to confront them. We will see you at the Council meeting tomorrow morning. For now, we'd be grateful if you left us alone."

One by one, they filed out of the room. Even at a distance, Obi-Wan could feel their embarrassment through the Force.

[Oh, this is great,] she thought. [It's bad enough that I've always had the Council's eyes on me because of Xanatos's failure and my Master's rebellious reputation. Now I've got to deal with their reactions to the new me!]

Only Master Windu remained behind to challenge Qui-Gon, who gestured at the door with his still-lit lightsaber. "You, too."

"Qui-Gon--"

"Tomorrow." That low voice held a warning that brooked no argument.

Windu heeded the warning and followed the others out the door. Following close on Windu's cloaked heels, Qui-Gon waited until the door had closed behind him. Thumbing his saber's intensity up a couple of notches, he drove the pulsing blade into the controls. Metal melted abruptly in the beam's wake, demolishing the circuitry and locking the door until such time as someone sorted through the molten mess to manually open the door.

The only other way out of the room was through the locker room. Placed in the center of the huge square building, it served as a hub for the surrounding practice rooms, with the exterior corridor running the perimeter of the building. Traditionally, no one walked in on anyone else's practice session unless they were invited: the Council members had definitely overstepped their limits.

With all possibility of distraction removed, Qui-Gon returned to confront his apprentice, who was gaping in amazement at the destruction her Master had just created.

Taking a deep breath, Qui-Gon centered himself within the Force. Obi-Wan felt him let go his anger, could feel the almost-tangible emotion dissolve in the bond they shared, and was astonished that her Master had felt it in the first place.

"You were angry... on my behalf?" she asked. "Because of their intrusion?"

Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow before safely switching down the intensity on his lightsaber once more. "Is that so amazing?"

"I can't imagine such a thing happening, say, last week, no matter the circumstances."

"For a great many years, what has occurred in this room between us has been private and very special. I am not willing to surrender that. To anyone. Are you ready, my Padawan?" Blue eyes flashing, he raised his saber and waited. But not for long.

Bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, Obi-Wan lunged and Qui-Gon answered... nothing but air. At the last second, Obi-Wan took a great leap sideways, beyond Qui-Gon's immediate circle. Whirling, she danced in to slash down the Master's biceps, then quickly danced away.

Gritting his teeth against the tingling blow, which signaled that his arm would be numb for the next five minutes, Qui-Gon murmured, "Coincidence, Obi-Wan, or enlightenment?"

"I'm not telling." Obi-Wan's smile faded when Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes. All too aware of his vulnerability, Obi-Wan found herself waiting somewhat anxiously for her Master's next move. [This is not good... once you start defending only, you've lost the battle.]

Driving forward, Qui-Gon initiated a blur of assaults that had Obi-Wan once more skittering backward. Throwing herself forward into a tight roll, Obi-Wan leaped up behind Qui-Gon before the Master had a chance to turn. And then, her lightsaber was at the Master's throat, threatening but unwilling to hurt this man.

"You have no head, my Master."

Powering down his lightsaber, Qui-Gon acknowledged defeat. Turning, he looked down at his apprentice. "Again, I ask you, Obi-Wan: luck or skill?"

"Luck," she answered honestly, extinguishing her own weapon. A quizzical look slanted her green eyes. "Do you mind if I do some experimental exercises by myself tomorrow? I need to see what, exactly, this body can do. Will you watch and tell me where I need improvement?"

"Of course." Qui-Gon's warm gaze told Obi-Wan that's what he'd been doing for years.

 

 

Chapter Five

[Why would I stop now, when I have always watched over you?] Qui-Gon wondered.

He reflected that watching over his apprentice had never included cutting him -- or her -- any slack. Especially not now, even though Qui-Gon's every instinct demanded that he protect the new Obi-Wan with everything he was. The Jedi Master's hard-won experience and wisdom killed that impulse. [She will not learn how to survive in this new body if I shield her.]

Unfortunately, after only one practice session Qui-Gon had realized something Obi-Wan had not: [In a great many things regarding Obi-Wan's technique, we are back to square one. Intellectually, she still knows what to do, but her body no longer answers instinctively, because all of her instincts have changed. She must now forget most of what she thinks he knows, and rebuild. She is no longer close to being ready for the trials, and I cannot bear to tell her that at least two years have been added to her training. I also cannot simply let her idle with her present knowledge, hopeful that we will discover a way to change her back. The Council will not wait: she must be prepared for the missions which, even now, we are scheduled to complete. She must learn quickly if we are to re-establish the easy, off-world partnership we both enjoyed.]

Together, they wandered toward the men's locker room.

"Meditate tonight upon your new center," Qui-Gon said aloud, sliding a companionable hand across Obi-Wan's shoulder and all but tucking her beneath his arm as he did so -- not necessarily by choice, but by virtue of his great height. "By tomorrow's practice session, I predict you will have a great many ideas with which to experiment."

"Hope so," Obi-Wan growled. "As badly as I was doing earlier, there's nothing for me to do but improve."

Qui-Gon halted a few feet from the locker room entrance, while his apprentice continued on a few paces without him.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's voice made her stop and cast an inquisitive look over her shoulder. "Are you certain that you wish to enter that particular room with me?"

"Huh?" She shrugged. "Why not? We both need a shower." Remembering in the next instant why Qui-Gon was asking such a question as she stood at the threshold of the men's locker room, Obi-Wan blushed furiously. "Oh. Right."

Ducking her head, she backed away from the open entry. Passing Qui-Gon, she summoned an embarrassed smile.

"I'll, uh,... I'll just go over there, all right?" Obi-Wan cocked a thumb toward the entrance to the women's locker room, which was further down the wall. "See you later. I guess."

Whirling, she all but sprinted away as Qui-Gon gave a tolerant half-smile.

 

 

[Damn this,] thought Obi-Wan, slinking inside the chamber and praying to whatever gods that seemed bent on torturing her that it would be empty. It was, except for two naked women standing before the lockers, toweling off. Before Obi-Wan could help herself, her gaze swept down the length of one woman, and then the other. Inevitably, she waited for the rush of blood to her loins -- the sudden, fierce arousal that always followed each and every time he had seen a woman in any state of undress.

That arousal didn't come. In fact, Obi-Wan felt nothing at all and may as well have been staring at the rain falling outside the window of her sleeping chamber. Lost in total confusion, she headed for a private shower, stripped down, and stepped quickly beneath the hottest water she could bear.

[What's *wrong* with me, besides the obvious?] she wondered, letting the falling water beat on him, massaging the tension from his muscles as best it could. It didn't help much. [I should be writhing with desire right now, cradling my testicles and pretending that I'm out there with their lips on my... non-existent... whatevers.]

With a sigh, she braced her forehead against the cool tile, closed her eyes, and began soaping herself all over. [I should be feeling *something* for those two out there... shouldn't I? And what about what I feel for *me*, my own body?]

Opening her eyes, she stared down at the body she was cleaning. Her Padawan braid trailed between . breasts. Small, firm breasts. [Just like I used to like 'em.] Obi-Wan's hands followed the soap bubbles to discover that she now had a narrow waist, flat stomach, and very nice hips with bones that jutted out slightly. Running her fingers over the bones, she waited expectantly for desire to coil tightly within her.

She waited in vain. Bending slightly, she soaped her legs and between her thighs. She enjoyed the tight musculature of those legs, admired the way the new muscles instantly and easily obeyed her demands, but that was definitely all. For Obi-Wan, running her hands over herself was like... Well, it was a lot like running her hands over the surface of one of the cool marble sculptures in the Hall of Memory.

[A great... big... so what.]

If Obi-Wan dipped his fingers between her legs, she assumed that she probably could have coaxed a satisfactory reaction from her new body. But creating sexual desire through mere physiology?

[That'd be cheating. And frustrating.] It wouldn't prove a thing, and it certainly wouldn't resolve her confusion regarding what she no longer seemed to feel about the opposite... er... the gentler sex.

[It would be all in my mind, right? And that hasn't changed. I think. I hope?] Beyond which, she *knew* that she wasn't ready for the totally unfamiliar, even more confusing sensations that touching herself would probably cause.

[So my DNA's been changed so much that I no longer give a damn about feminine beauty,] she thought bitterly. [Not even my own.]

Wafting her fingers over her totally unimpressed nipples, she simply stood in the spray of the water, held her breasts and wished, waited, and hoped against hope for some sort of familiar, *male-ish* reaction to her new femininity.

[Nope, not a twinge,] Obi-Wan reflected sadly. Sighing, she gave up and began washing the soap away. No shivers, no spiking desire between her legs. Not even a curled toe. Just a sweet, clean little body with lots and lots of problems.

Deflated in more ways than one, Obi-Wan exited the shower and grabbed two towels -- one for his hips... er, make that her torso, and one for her hair. Bundling her sweaty clothing, she padded with great dejection down the hall and back into the common chamber. Grimacing an acknowledgment at the other two apprentices -- one of which had dressed and was waiting for the other woman to finish a wrestling match she was having with her tangled Padawan braid -- Obi-Wan laid her clothes on the bench and proceeded to towel dry her hair.

So what if I stand around naked?] came the rebellious mental challenge. [You were. It's no big deal, 'cause I'm definitely one of you. Right?]

Gathering a neatly folded stack of clothes from a nearby bench, the taller of the two women approached Obi-Wan.

"Master Jinn brought these for you," she said shyly, her brown eyes reflecting warm sympathy. "You *are* Obi-Wan?"

"Yeah?" [So what I've become is common knowledge, now?] Inwardly, Obi-Wan cringed, even as she reached for the clean tunic the Padawan offered, and dove into it. The leggings followed just as quickly as she could towel off and get them onto her slender legs.

"I'm Kee-Lahn." The other apprentice bowed slightly, a formal greeting from a younger Padawan to an older.

[Why's she bothering to be so respectful?] Obi-Wan wondered. [A lot of people would be laughing themselves sick at the sight of me.]

"It's really too scary, what's happened to you," Kee-Lahn said softly, as though she didn't want her companion overhearing their conversation.

It suddenly occurred to Obi-Wan that perhaps that companion didn't yet know who she was now. Perhaps Qui-Gon had been more than a little discreet while delivering the clothing?

"I'd be a total wreck if somebody turned me into a man," Kee-Lahn was continuing. "It can't be easy for you to handle...this..." She swept a hand down, encompassing Obi-Wan's dilemma. "If there's anything I can do to help, just ask, please?"

"Thanks for the offer," Obi-Wan whispered, blinking back tears at the unexpected kindness from a stranger. [Sith take it, why do I want to cry all the damn time!]

Kee-Lahn continued, "You probably don't remember me, but I was two years behind you at the Temple. I've watched you practice a lot with Master Jinn. You've always taught me something."

Obi-Wan managed a heartsick smile. "I don't think you'll want to watch me now. I'm not doing so great these days."

She tilted her head in sincere inquiry. "What's the problem?"

Obi-Wan was less certain about accepting the young woman's help, regardless such was part of the Jedi Code they'd all learned as children. Still, she'd never been one to let her fears rule her.

"I'm too small now, and my Master's too big. Nothing I've learned seems to really work anymore."

Kee-Lahn nodded understanding. "My Master's just as tall as yours. You'll just have to learn to dance very fast."

"Dance?"

"Our size helps a lot because it makes us faster than most guys." She sent Obi-Wan a few images. "Think fast, fierce and ruthless. Do as much as you can in the air, 'cause most men are really earthbound. By the time your opponent reacts to where you are, you're just not there anymore."

Along with the images came companion emotions of determined female ferocity that had Obi-Wan rocking back and staring at Kee-Lahn.

"I can't do that!"

"Yes, you can." Her brown eyes were sincere. "You *have* to do it if you want to survive with Masters like ours. And then there's the missions we'll face alone after we're knighted. You've just got to do it, Obi-Wan. And a lot more."

She stared at her new friend, who sighed deeply.

"Look," Kee-Lahn continued, "not to be rude about it, but yesterday you had a lot of brawn and only a few brains." She laughed outright at Obi-Wan's shocked expression. "Don't look at me like that. It's true. Trust me: after a few weeks of living as a woman, you'll *know* it's true."

"Do you think that of my Master, as well?"

Kee-Lahn had the grace to look appalled. "No way! Qui-Gon Jinn is *always* totally in balance. His brains and his brawn are just fine. No, make that *really* fine." She grinned.

"But I'm not?"

Kee-Lahn's grin widened. "Nope. Sorry. At least, you weren't as a *guy*. I predict that you'll catch on really quick, now that you're a girl. You've just got to think a lot faster and remember that your brawn isn't nearly as dependable as it used to be. We women are softer, more delicate, and definitely less strong. It's not our fault, it's just the way nature designed our bodies. To make up for that, we have to be... slightly villainous, shall we say... in our fighting techniques? Don't be afraid to get really creative. Try new things to out-think your enemy."

"Master Jinn is my *enemy* now?" Much to Obi-Wan's chagrin, her voice squeaked at the end.

"On that mat, he sure is. Out there, he's definitely not your great good buddy, or he's not being a proper Master to you. He won't be with you forever, 'Young Padawan.'"

Obi-Wan blushed to recognize the imitation Kee-Lahn could do of his Master's delivery.

"Your Master's muscles are going to teach you things you've *never* had to learn before," Kee-Lahn promised. "If you learn those lessons, you'll win. If you don't...." She shrugged. "Well, you can call me to commiserate when you need a shoulder to cry on. And somebody to dress the burns."

Getting to her feet, Kee-Lahn offered a last, lingering smile. "You'll do fine, Obi-Wan, if you just get used to the idea that you're going to have to be a lot more devious now if you want to make your lightsaber work."

"I'll... give it some thought."

Gathering her friend, Kee-Lahn left the locker room, waved a good-bye to Obi-Wan on her way out.

"Oops, sorry. Didn't know you were standing there," Obi-Wan heard her say to someone out of sight, around the corner.

Without reaching in the Force, Obi-Wan knew that Kee-Lahn had almost run into Master Jinn, who was probably waiting for his Padawan. Gathering his sweaty clothes, Obi-Wan trailed after Kee-Lahn.

 

 

Chapter Six

Pushing away from the wall he'd been leaning against while letting the two apprentices pass, Qui-Gon loomed over Obi-Wan. His blue eyes were filled with concern as his Padawan took the carry-all he offered and knelt to tuck away his things inside it.

"How was your shower?" Qui-Gon asked.

Zipping the carry-all, Obi-Wan kept it when Qui-Gon would have taken it from her.

"That's all right; I've got it." [I'm still your Padawan, still here to serve you as always, Master. And I think I can carry three krills of clothes.]

"Well, the rest of the world was definitely naked in there," she replied to his Master's question and shrugged. "But I didn't care." Looking up, she locked his worried gaze into Qui-Gon's. "Master, am I *supposed* to not care?"

Ducking his head, Qui-Gon tried in vain to hide a smile. "It just means that you're not attracted to naked women, Obi-Wan."

"I used to be." His tone dripped displeasure.

Amusement sparkled through the Master/Apprentice bond. "Do you realize what it would mean if you *did* still desire them, Obi-Wan?"

"Sure. It would mean that I'm still a full-blooded, totally capable... er... um...."

"Yes, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon urged him to complete the sentence.

Realization and embarrassment flooded across the bond he shared with Qui-Gon. "I don't think I'm ready to make love to a woman as a woman quite yet, Master. Actually, I don't think I'm even ready for this discussion. Let's just forget it."

Laughing outright, the Jedi Master hugged Obi-Wan so hard, her feet left the ground.

"It's all right, Padawan. Sincerely all right. There's nothing at all wrong with you. If you are not attracted to women, perhaps you are attracted to someone else."

"Huh? No, I don't think so."

"I think you might be. There's one way to find out."

Without preamble, warning, or apology, Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan around in front of him. Although startled, she came willingly enough, dropping the carry-all to the floor on the way. Sliding his arms over Obi-Wan's back, Qui-Gon bent to touch his mouth firmly to hers. Tightening the embrace, he supported Obi-Wan when his Padawan's legs threatened to collapse beneath him. Clinging to the Master's shoulders, Obi-Wan didn't even think to close her eyes. Of their own will, her hands tangled themselves in Qui-Gon's hair.

[It's thick and heavy,] she registered first, amazed that she could even think. [I never could think, before. Huh.] Before, all of his attention had been focused on the flesh beneath him, the arousal demanding his attention. [But... I can *think* about what's going on. That's really weird.]

She took the time to feel -- really *feel* the hair between her fingers. [It's soft. I never realized how soft, before. And he smells... so good.]

Sighing into the kiss, Obi-Wan slid her fingers around the back of Qui-Gon's neck and pulled down his head to deepen the pressure. The Master obliged, tilting his head slightly for better access to Obi-Wan's mouth.

[His lips are dry,] Obi-Wan reflected further. [And... and they're *moving*.]

Qui-Gon's kiss was moving other things in her, as well. The flame he'd kindled on the practice mat was becoming a raging fire deep within Obi-Wan, making her shift restlessly, anxiously against her Master. Whimpering softly, she licked Qui-Gon's lower lip, drew it seductively between her own, and sucked.

[So good... so warm. Need you closer..] She sent the thought singing through their bond. At the same time, her hands caressed Qui-Gon's shoulders, ventured beneath the folds of his tunic to begin exploring his chest.

With a moan, Qui-Gon broke off the kiss and captured those wandering hands. Breathing raggedly, he brought them to his lips to kiss at the base of each palm. When he spoke, his voice was deeper than Obi-Wan could remember ever having heard it before.

"Such small hands to rouse me so," he rasped, hard arousal radiating off of him as brilliantly as the glow of a lightsaber in his hand.

"Master?" Obi-Wan's gaze searched his. [Does he mean that?] Her lips felt swollen with kisses, were tingling from the touch of Qui-Gon's beard as they begged for more.

"Look, we don't mean to intrude on a romantic moment," a familiar, if abrasive, voice interrupted, "but we're trapped. We can't get the door open. And you're blocking the way, so we can't go back inside the locker-room hub and get out through an empty practice room, either."

Whirling out of Qui-Gon's embrace, Obi-Wan came nose to nose with Kee-Lahn, who was standing directly behind her with her arms folded. Her accusatory gaze was directed over Obi-Wan's head, at Qui-Gon.

"The sensor seems to have melted," she said sweetly, though her knowing expression belied her tone. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you, Master Jinn?"

Straightening to his full height, Qui-Gon paced around Obi-Wan to loom over Kee-Lahn. "I will tend to it."

Stalking across the room, he ignored her companion, who took two steps back from the menacing figure in the dark-brown cloak when it passed her. Approaching the door, Qui-Gon surveyed the damage.

"What makes you think my Master had anything to do with that?" Obi-Wan whispered in curiosity.

"Because this is *your* practice room traditionally, and you used it last," she hissed back. "And because the only thing that could do that sort of damage is a Master's lightsaber."

"Maybe *I* did it."

She shook her head and began tapping her toe as Qui-Gon didn't seem to be making any progress on the door. "No way. Our lightsabers would burn themselves out if we tried that. For a Master's saber, however, dissolving metal would be like cutting through cake."

As though to prove her point, Qui-Gon palmed his lightsaber, powered up, and drove it viciously through the door panel itself, parallel with the melted control console. Metal bubbled and hissed, dripped onto the floor to scorch the tile as the magnetic seal mechanism dissolved under the onslaught. That panel would never lock again. Indeed, the entire door and all of its mechanisms would have to be ripped out and replaced.

Dousing the lightsaber, Qui-Gon shoved against the panel. It rolled back with great reluctance, just enough to allow them to exit. Beyond the door, Obi-Wan could see masters and apprentices who had stopped to watch in the temple hallway. All of them were gaping at the molten metal that still glowed on their side of the corridor.

[How much is he broadcasting through the Force?] Obi-Wan wondered.

Turning, his blue eyes smoldering with barely dammed passion, Qui-Gon swept a hand before him. "After you."

Kee-Lahn's friend all but sprinted past Qui-Gon. As for Kee-Lahn herself, she sauntered toward the Master, her brown eyes boldly holding his.

"You realize, of course, that this incident is only going to add to your reputation?"

An eyebrow raised in inquiry was her only reply.

"You've locked yourself in a training room for two hours with three women," Kee-Lahn pointed out. "Walls have ears and the Jedi will talk." Daring to pause before Qui-Gon, she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, seemingly oblivious to the gaping crowd gathered in the corridor outside. For his and Obi-Wan's ears only, she whispered, "Guess what they're going to be saying?"

The expression on Qui-Gon's face said that he didn't give a damn. Squeezing past his bulk, Kee-Lahn wandered down the corridor.

Qui-Gon held out his hand, commanding his apprentice. "Obi-Wan."

Not daring to be anything but obedient given his Master's present mood, Obi-Wan gathered the carry-all containing their clothes. Slipping past him and out into the corridor, Obi-Wan was startled to have her hand captured in a firm grip on the way by. Matching his Padawan's shorter stride, Qui-Gon released Obi-Wan's hand only to slide a possessive arm around her waist -- whoever was watching be damned. And there were plenty, all murmuring in their wake.

"Master, I believe that I have learned something from your kissing me," Obi-Wan ventured, almost shyly, careful not to let his voice carry further than their own, private conversation.

"What is that, Obi-Wan?"

"This body is functioning perfectly."

[Tell me something I don't know,] Qui-Gon growled inwardly. Spreading his legs a bit wider as he walked, he struggled to accommodate the massive erection he was having no great success at ignoring.

 

 

II: TRANSCEND

"I've loved and lost, I crossed the line.
No regrets, I'd do it all again.
Forever my heart, forever I am...."
­Miriam Stockley, "Miriam"

Chapter One

They left the training center for the cafeteria, and it took no longer than halfway through dinner for consternation and worry on Obi-Wan's part to set in. Seated across from her Master, who had once more wrapped dignity and distance about himself, Obi-Wan tried to engage Qui-Gon in conversation -- once -- asking what time he wanted to practice the next day.

"Have you forgotten the Council meeting?" Qui-Gon asked tiredly as he rubbed the bridge of his nose -- a sure sign that a headache had started behind his eyes. "Let us see to the Council first, Padawan. Then we'll worry about your practice."

[He doesn't sound like he's looking forward to either one,] she thought, her heart falling into his feet. [It's been a long day; perhaps he's just tired.]

[And perhaps he's regretting kissing you,] an insidious voice sneered in her mind.

[So he kissed me,] Obi-Wan argued with the voice. [It's no big deal. People kiss people all of the time.]

[Masters do not kiss their Padawans the way your Master kissed you back there. You probably enjoyed it more than he did, since he was probably just trying to teach you another lesson. *You're* the one who wrapped your arm around his neck in a stranglehold and wouldn't let go. How's a Jedi Master supposed to gracefully disentangle himself from that? He probably just meant to give you a nice, sweet, innocent kiss. Whose body turned it into something else, huh? ]

Color suffused Obi-Wan's face at the memory.

[There, there...] the voice continued sarcastically. [He's a grown man. He knows that since you're in a woman's body, you're going to react like a woman. You can't help yourself.]

[I caught that part, thanks,] Obi-Wan growled, stirring her soup around and around, but not eating it.

[Good. I'm sure he'd hate to have to repeat the lesson.]

Inexplicably, Obi-Wan felt depressed at the thought. [Why should it depress me?] he argued with himself. [I mean, it's not as if I *want* him to kiss me, or to want me... is it?]

[Don't you?]

[No! Absolutely not! I mean... Yeah, he's the most attractive man I've ever met, the most honorable, noble human being in this galaxy, but I've never wanted to make love to him. He's been my father and mentor, and my friend. Except for what happened back there today, he's never given me the slightest hint that he feels anything for me other than what a Master feels for his apprentice.]

[He loves you, you know?] The voice turned soothing.

[Of *course* he loves me. Like a son... er, a daughter now, I guess. He just doesn't love me... that way. He was just trying to show me how complete my transition has been from one sex to the other.]

Feeling very lost and alone for reasons she didn't understand and had no wish to examine any further in such a public place, Obi-Wan tried to finish her dinner and failed miserably. She knew that there was no solution to that, just as there were no solutions to the absolute mess her life had become.

 

 

[Of all the stupid, short-sighted, things for me to have done!] Qui-Gon berated himself, shifting uneasily in his chair and feeling the pounding in his head match the pounding in his groin. [Did I have to try to seduce Obi-Wan? What's she going to think of a Master who one minute is trying to beat her into submission, and the next... She is so confused now, the last thing she needs is an old man's desire added to her turbulent emotions.]

Even as he stole a glance at his Padawan, Qui-Gon dipped deeper into depression. [Look at her ­ she can't even eat, I've upset her so much.]

"Padawan, if your dinner isn't to your liking, please feel free to select something else," he suggested gently, laying his warm fingers over Obi-Wan's.

Slowly, she pulled her fingers out from under Qui-Gon's, didn't look up to meet his searching gaze. "I guess I'm just not hungry. I'm sorry, Master. I'm not very good company right now. If you will excuse me, I think I'll just go back to our quarters and meditate?"

"As you wish," Qui-Gon murmured. Almost before the words were past her lips, Obi-Wan had taken her tray and was leaving the table. In a matter of seconds, she was all but running out of the cafeteria.

 

 

Returning to the rooms he shared with Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon had himself once more under control. His arousal was now a steady, bearable presence as opposed to something screaming for attention.

His apprentice was deep in meditation in the far corner of the room. Moving quietly about the common area, the Jedi Master kept the lights low and gathered his databook to review his report on Sarsden one last time. The next morning, he would hand it over to the archivist. Obi-Wan's transformation would then become part of the Jedi's permanent database, and common knowledge within the Temple.

[I wish it were otherwise,] Qui-Gon thought wryly, knowing how tongues would wag once the story was allowed to be told beyond the Council Tower. Settling onto the low couch across from Obi-Wan, he shielded his thoughts so as not to intrude upon his apprentice's mental journey.

Only a few minutes later, he was satisfied that this version of the report was the final one. Clicking closed the databook after preparing the disk, Qui-Gon set it aside only to realize what a golden opportunity had been handed him in this moment: he was free to study -- for the first time and at complete liberty, without guilt or concern whether Obi-Wan might consider it rude to catch him staring -- the image of what she had become.

The young woman sat quietly, peaceably, with her head tilted slightly to the left and her small hands cradled, one inside the other -- instinct within reason -- in her lap. The head tilt was a flaw -- one Obi-Wan had had for as long as Qui-Gon had known him. All of the correction in the world hadn't cured him of that, and Qui-Gon knew that it never would, now.

"I can't *hear* if I don't hold my head this way," Obi-Wan had protested, years ago. "That's where the doorway to the Force is in my mind."

After trying to for months to change it, an exasperated Qui-Gon had accepted it, and then found it endearing. [How can Obi-Wan be so perfect in most technique, yet lacking in one so very elementary principle?]

[Because the Force made him that way,] Qui-Gon had come to realize. [And that imperfection makes him all the more precious to me.]

Becoming precious to him anew was the body he saw before him; small and lithe as it was, with slender, muscular legs folded beneath it. Gone were the obvious, rippling muscles Qui-Gon had carefully helped Obi-Wan develop in endless sessions over the years. The shadows cast by the dim track lighting now caressed pale, perfect skin between Obi-Wan's high breasts, and Qui-Gon longed to share space with those shadows, to follow the line of their caress, to push back the Padawan tunic and explore new territory.

Her spiky auburn hair looked stiff and unyielding, yet Qui-Gon knew from cutting that hair that it was not. His fingers itched to be there, even as his lips wanted to nuzzle Obi-Wan's small ears, tug on the Padawan braid and pull her closer to him, to learn every inch of her new curves, to learn the small noises of passion that she would make when he made love to her.

Even as the thought occurred to his Master, Obi-Wan ended her meditation. Straightening her head, she opened her eyes and stared at Qui-Gon, who all but jumped. As it was, the Master folded his hands before his crotch, as though to shield himself from view.

[That's totally unnecessary,] Qui-Gon reminded himself, even as he did it. [The tunics hide everything.] Still taking some sort of psychological, if not actual, satisfaction from the gesture, he didn't remove his hands, but prayed that his mental shielding was working as well.

"Thank you, Master" came the low, sultry tones that had always been so much a part Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon had always found his Padawan's voice to be calming. Not so, any longer. Responding to the warm, provocative tones, his aching arousal intensified to hear that voice now. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head for a moment, seeking control and distance. "For what are you thanking me, my Padawan?"

Rising from the meditation pad, Obi-Wan stretched as tall as she could, clawing for the ceiling and driving the kinks out of her back and legs. Tensing his own muscles in sympathetic response, Qui-Gon wanted to arch with her and arch against her, wanted to slide his hands possessively down his Padawan's slender torso, yank her close, and show Obi-Wan know how much he needed her.

[Not a good idea, Jedi.]

"Thank you for suggesting that I meditate."

Obi-Wan's smile did strange things to Qui-Gon's stomach; her open, trusting gaze was even worse. Padding across the room, she unclasped her belt and tossed it into her sleep-room. "You were right: I've gotten a few ideas I'd like to try tomorrow."

"Good."

Obi-Wan's tunics followed her belt. Even as Qui-Gon realized that his apprentice was in the process stripping for bed as he watched, he also realized that Obi-Wan was doing as she'd had always done. There had never been any sort of embarrassment or modesty between the two of them: as men, they knew what each other looked like. The casualness of the locker room had been extended into their home: who would care if they traipsed around in the nude?

Obi-Wan had always enjoyed meditating naked, enjoyed letting Coruscant's sun warm and caress him every morning. Their private garden offered endless opportunities to enjoy the freedom that total nudity allowed: Qui-Gon had always suspected that if Obi-Wan could have practiced battle moves in the nude, he would have done so, so comfortable was he. In any case, the apprentice had often pursued his kata in the same natural, hedonistic state.

On occasion, Qui-Gon had joined him, when his control had been firmly in place and he had felt able to control his wayward body. Even if he'd occasionally become obviously aroused around his Padawan, because of the enthusiasm of youth and Obi-Wan's strong sex drive, the younger man had usually beaten Qui-Gon to it, standing firm and proud in the morning light, even as he concentrated on getting some position or other right within the kata. It had never been an issue until Qui-Gon had realized how beautiful his Padawan was, until the Master had recognized that he wanted more than to simply look at Obi-Wan, and so had begun retiring to his rooms before bed-time struck.

No such luck, now. Disappearing momentarily to discard her leggings, Obi-Wan returned to the common room. Folding her arms and leaning naked against the doorframe in a position Qui-Gon recognized from months gone by, she asked, "Do you think it would be all right if I installed two crystals into my lightsaber tomorrow? I'd like to experiment with different blade lengths if you don't mind?"

[She's perfect,] Qui-Gon thought, his gaze raking Obi-Wan's body and finding himself stiffening abruptly and painfully to raging, complete erection. Somehow, he managed to reply in a voice that did not sound strangled.

"That would be fine, Obi-Wan."

Crossing the room, Obi-Wan knelt beside her Master and gathered a few papers from the end table beside the couch. "I made a few notes earlier of some new designs. What do you think?"

"Obi-Wan..." Qui-Gon breathed, half-plea, half-command. Slowly, as if in slow motion, as if he were watching himself do it, Qui-Gon leaned over and cupped one of Obi-Wan's breasts in his hand. "You are far more of a temptation in your nakedness now than you ever were before. Please, put on some clothes?"

Obi-Wan gasped as Qui-Gon's calloused thumb firmly rubbed her nipple. Responding quickly to his touch, the bud warmed and rose, beckoning him on. The Master was more than happy to oblige. Obi-Wan pushed harder against his hand; whether such encouragement was intentional, Qui-Gon didn't know. Didn't care.

Obi-Wan's green eyes were stormy; fury and need battled within. Her cheeks were stained in embarrassment. "I've walked around here naked for years, Master. You've never cared before."

Surging to her feet, she crossed the room with the same agile grace she'd had as a male. Hauling back on the closet door, she grabbed her old cloak from its place beside Qui-Gon's.

"You were never a woman, before, my Padawan."

Shoving into the cloak, she wrapped it about herself before whirling and staring across the room at the Master. "I'm sorry that I've upset you by running around naked, Master. It won't happen again."

"You didn't upset me." He spoke quietly, despairing. Too quiet against the maelstrom that suddenly possessed his Padawan. "You aroused me."

Total silence met that admission. And then--

"I'm going to bed." All but flying into her sleep-room, Obi-Wan slid the door closed behind her.

Left alone, Qui-Gon bowed his head in his hands. [I should not have done that. I did not mean to embarrass or upset her.] Those were not reactions he would have expected from Obi-Wan, not in a million years. [What is wrong with her?]

[Foolish question. What *isn't* wrong with her now? What does she feel is right with her now? And what did I expect? That she would want my touch, even after she let me kiss her? Ridiculous. She hurts, and I have hurt her more. But... it was necessary to tell her. Was it also necessary to touch her the way I did? I let my emotions, my desire cloud the issue. Obi-Wan does not understand, and I cannot expect her to. For that, I am sorry.]

In the end, Qui-Gon retreated to his own meditation mat and tried to apply lifelong inner calming techniques in an attempt to sort out his feelings of confusion and remorse. An hour later, when that meditation was completed but inner peace was still elusive, Qui-Gon dared to open the door to Obi-Wan's chamber. Stepping inside, he let the city glow of Coruscant light his way. Crossing to Obi-Wan's bed, he stood quietly and looked down at his sleeping Padawan.

As always, Obi-Wan slept with her back to the room, as close to the wall as she could get. Her Padawan braid trailed across the pillow.

[Everything has changed for my Padawan, except for that braid,] Qui-Gon realized. Kneeling beside the bed, he laid a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"I owe you an apology, Obi-Wan," he whispered, hoping that the Force would carry this apology into her dreams. "I was insensitive and intrusive this evening. You may walk before me in any state you desire. I will accept it, and count myself lucky that you are before me at all. Rest well, my Padawan."

 

 

Chapter Two

The next morning, Obi-Wan made sure she was up before her Master. Streaking into the refresher at least an hour ahead of Qui-Gon, she showered and was fully clothed and meditating quietly by the time Qui-Gon got up.

"Good morning, Obi-Wan," came the familiar low voice, intruding upon her non-thoughts. If that voice was more hesitant this morning than it had been on other mornings, well, Obi-Wan knew that she had no one to blame but herself after last night's scene.

Rising from the meditation, she offered a formal bow before opening her eyes. "Good morning, Mas--"

Qui-Gon acknowledged the greeting with a slight bow of his own before turning away, but Obi-Wan never got the rest of the word out. Her mind was too busy shrieking, [Sith take it, he's naked and dripping from his own shower!]

Blushing furiously, she couldn't stop staring at the long, lean lines Qui-Gon presented for her inspection. [Well, I guess that the same rules don't apply to him as they do to me.]

Only now, as her Master strode majestically through the apartment and back into his chamber, did Obi-Wan come even halfway close to understanding Qui-Gon's agitation of the night before. With muscular legs that were much longer than any man's had the right to be, damp tendrils of clean hair clinging across his broad shoulders, and well-defined muscles moving easily beneath the planes of his back, Qui-Gon was magnificent. Obi-Wan's new hormonal makeup hastened to communicate that fact to her, complete with suddenly clammy palms, curling toes, and lungs that suddenly didn't want to breathe for her any longer.

[Why didn't I ever see him like this before?] Obi-Wan wondered, even as the delicious fire began coiling through her again. [He's nowhere near me, not doing a thing, and I feel this way about him?] She shivered, never mind that the room was warm with the morning sun.

Returning to the living area, Qui-Gon stopped in front of Obi-Wan, who was still standing vaguely down at the edge of her meditation mat. "Padawan, would you mind cutting my hair?"

"Uh... sure. After you." Blinking up at him almost stupidly, she gestured toward the 'fresher.

Qui-Gon walked serenely enough before Obi-Wan, even as he usually walked serenely before her in his Jedi robes. But oh, what a difference was made by the lack of a few layers of austere clothing. Swallowing hard, Obi-Wan came to realize that it was a difference that really made no difference.

[When he's clothed and walking in front of me, I know that I'm safe, and I feel proud to be with him. But when he's like this and the walk is the same, the man inside is the same, and I know that I love him. I want to touch him, make him aware of how I feel.]

[Is that how he feels about me? Is that what he was trying to tell me last night? Is he trying to teach me something? Again? Still?]

[Probably,] she decided, joining Qui-Gon in the 'fresher and taking the scissors Qui-Gon offered in the palm of his hand.

The two of them had been through this ritual so often over the years, the Master turned without prompting to face the wall and offer Obi-Wan clear access to his hair. Smiling slightly to remember earlier years when Obi-Wan had been so short that she'd had to sit on the edge of the tub so that she could reach his Master properly, Obi-Wan retrieved Qui-Gon's comb and worked to gently untangle his mane. Once Obi-Wan actually had her hands on him, the fire inside her retreated to smolder happily in the background.

"How much do you want me to cut off?" she asked, already dreading the answer.

"Two inches."

"Master--" she protested, running her fingers through it. "Only one inch, surely. Can't you let it grow just a little longer?"

Sighing deeply, Qui-Gon turned his head and peered down at her from the corner of one very blue eye. "How many times have we had this conversation over the years? Any longer, and it is a danger. To us both."

Which translated to, 'If I am blinded by hair, I cannot defend myself or you.'

"I know. But that doesn't stop me from wishing it weren't so. You have beautiful hair, Master."

"So do you."

"Not like this."

Combing through the strands once more, Obi-Wan snicked the scissors in a silent, pre-arranged signal that her Master should look straight ahead and stand very still. Qui-Gon did so, and Obi-Wan snipped slowly, carefully, determined to get it right. Trimming in a slight half-circle, she made certain that the ends were an even length, even as they flowed across Qui-Gon's broad shoulders. Checking her work, one side against the other, she finished by snipping a few stray hairs, then spread her hand across Qui-Gon's back.

"All done."

"Thank you, Obi-Wan."

She could feel Qui-Gon's voice rumble through the palm of her hand. So small was the 'fresher that the Master couldn't get around Obi-Wan to exit, but had to wait for her to return the scissors to their assigned place in the cabinet. And so Qui-Gon loomed over Obi-Wan, as protective and comforting a presence as he'd ever been.

Folding her hands in formal supplication, Obi-Wan faced Qui-Gon and bowed his head. "I'd like to apologize for my behavior last night."

"It is I who owe you an apology, Obi-Wan."

"I don't believe so. I think I better understand, this morning, why my own lack of clothes disturbed you last night." His gaze flickered briefly to Qui-Gon's manhood, hanging heavy and inviting between his thighs.

A long silence met her announcement. And then, "Obi-Wan, please look at me."

She did, with reluctance.

Qui-Gon offered a wry smile. "Your Master can be a very stuffy, unamusing old man sometimes."

"You're not!"

"Last night, I was. We're both human, with all of the passions, emotions, and reactions that implies. We've been together far too long to let something so elementary as our being naked come between us. If you will trust me not to judge you so harshly again, I will trust you to walk any way you wish before me. And, for the record, there has never been a time -- no matter the body you were in -- when I have not wanted to look at you. You were a handsome man, Obi-Wan. And you've become a beautiful woman."

She felt her mouth drop open in surprise, but had the foresight to close it before trying to assemble an answer. "I... er... Thanks. You really mean this, don't you?"

"I do."

Qui-Gon waited serenely for his Padawan's next reaction. Even as Obi-Wan wanted to say something or do something to thank him, she couldn't think of a proper response. As for Qui-Gon, he seemed contented to stand trapped in the 'fresher with Obi-Wan blocking his way for as long as she liked.

"Would you like me to dry your hair?" she offered impulsively after a long, awkward moment. [Where the hell did *that* come from?] Still, it didn't sound like too bad an offer.

Amusement flashed in those blue eyes. A crooked, somewhat bemused smile flashed briefly. "If you like."

Reaching over Obi-Wan's head, Qui-Gon retrieved the dryer and handed it to her. Turning, she walked out of the 'fresher and into Qui-Gon's sleep-room. Reaching the bed, she turned, expecting to find Qui-Gon close behind, only to discover that he'd stopped to retrieve a hand towel, a small mirror, and even smaller pair of scissors.

Padding into the bedroom, Qui-Gon sat on the edge of the bed, spread the towel across his lap, and raised an eyebrow when Obi-Wan didn't immediately apply herself to the damp hair.

"Why did you bring a mirror?" Obi-Wan dared to ask.

"My beard needs trimming." [Carry on,] his gesture said, even as he handed Obi-Wan a wayward leather hair-tie.

"I see."

Dropping the tie onto the blanket for safekeeping, Obi-Wan climbed up behind Qui-Gon before running a wide-toothed through his hair and turning on the dryer. Tossing aside the comb, she used her fingers to massage her Master's scalp, going ever so gently so as not to disturb him as he trimmed his beard. Ever the fastidious Master, Qui-Gon made certain that the trimmings fell onto the towel in his lap, rather than onto the bed or on the floor.

Finishing before Obi-Wan did, Qui-Gon folded up the towel and set the mirror aside. Closing his eyes, he leaned into his Padawan's caress. "That feels so good, Obi-Wan."

Increasing the pressure, she shut off the dryer, but didn't stop massaging.

"You're tense even before the day has begun," Obi-Wan accused, letting her fingers work down Qui-Gon's neck, across the rock-hard muscles at the top of his shoulders.

"You know that I've never enjoyed Council meetings very much."

"I can't see why not. After all, it's not as though they try to ferret out our every opinion and disagree with them. It's not as though, next time, they'll send us off to complete some piece of dirty work that they'll criticize even more."

The droll delivery made Qui-Gon smile.

Brushing out Qui-Gon's hair, which was now totally dry, Obi-Wan impulsively segregated a thin length of hair at the nape of his neck. Separating the hair into three strands, she began braiding furiously, wondering if she could actually get away with this.

Qui-Gon turned his head slightly. "What are you doing?"

"Your hair's very fine. I've run into an especially difficult snarl." [Please don't pick up the mirror,] Obi-Wan begged silently, even as she pushed aside the rest of Qui-Gon's mane, which left room to work and exposed the love braid she was making.

Reaching the end of the braid, Obi-Wan quickly, viciously pulled the flexible thread from the end of her own Padawan braid. There would be time later to get another thread before the braid unraveled. Working one-handed and not wanting to let go Qui-Gon's newly created love braid for fear she'd lose it in the rest of his hair and have to go digging -- which action Qui-Gon would really question until Obi-Wan had no choice but to confess what she'd been trying to do -- Obi-Wan managed to stretch out the thread and wrap it around the newly created braid.

[There. That ought to hold it. Wonder how long it will take him to discover it's there?]

"Got it," she announced, setting the braid aside before brushing quickly through the rest of Qui-Gon's hair and gathering the appropriate amount to pull it back and fasten it as he always wore it. A final brush through the entire mane and it was done -- with the new love braid hidden safely behind the Master's left ear. [Unless you already know it's there, you won't notice it. I hope.]

Still kneeling behind Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan impulsively threw her arms around the man's broad shoulders. "You feel so good to be near. You smell good, too."

Turning his head, Qui-Gon rubbed his beard against Obi-Wan's cheek. "Do I?"

"Mmmm. And your beard is soft." She rubbed back against it, enjoying the rasping sound it made, and tightened hers arms around Qui-Gon's neck. "My transition can't be easy for you, either. You know that I love you, don't you, Master? Thank you for being so patient with me."

Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon stop breathing, and wondered if she'd spoken out of turn. Not daring to draw breath, not daring to move, she waited for his response.

Slowly, Qui-Gon's big hands came up to wrap themselves around Obi-Wan's wrists. Warm and gentle, those strong hands could destroy the most bitter enemy as well as caress the most fragile tear from Obi-Wan's cheek.

Softly, he rumbled, "I love you too, my Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan's world righted itself. Smoothing Qui-Gon's hair back to the tie, she dared to kiss his forehead. Letting her nose drift back down to her Master's ear, she breathed softly into it. Qui-Gon caught his breath sharply when his apprentice kissed his beard, just where it began at his jaw.

"You're such a strange mixture of rough and soft," Obi-Wan murmured. "I guess most men are. Strange, how I've never noticed before." With a final tug on his hair, she slid off of the bed. "I guess I should let you get dressed."

Turning to exit the room, Obi-Wan found herself caught by a long arm around her wrist.

"Wait," Qui-Gon whispered, his blue eyes urgent with need.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow in inquiry, only to be brought to stand between Qui-Gon's legs. Pulling his Padawan closer, Qui-Gon spanned Obi-Wan's waist with his fingers, turned his head and leaned his cheek against her stomach.

Hesitantly, not knowing what to make of this gesture, Obi-Wan slid her arms around Qui-Gon's broad shoulders and hugged tightly. Her Master released the anxious breath he'd been holding, and Obi-Wan felt the tension drain out of him.

"It'll be all right," Obi-Wan murmured instinctively, her words as low and elegant and soothing as they'd been before her transformation. Running her fingers through Qui-Gon's hair, she continued, "We've done nothing wrong this time, Master. Between the two of us, we can handle the Council."

"I fear that it will not be pleasant for you, Obi-Wan. Just as this entire mission was not pleasant for you."

"It's only a moment in time, Master. We'll present our report, they'll ask me questions, you'll state your conclusions, and then it will all be over."

Calm confidence washed through the bond from Padawan to Master. Qui-Gon tightened his grip on Obi-Wan, soaking up his Padawan's calm as a cat soaks up sunshine on a winter's day. Clinging to it, craving it, he stored it in his heart in preparation for when they had to stand so close and yet so far apart in the Council Chamber.

Leaning over, Obi-Wan nuzzled impulsively once more at her Master's ear. "We're together, Master, so it *will* be all right."

"Yes."

Hugging tightly and fiercely, Obi-Wan realized suddenly that even strong Jedi Masters could suffer from hidden, unspoken fears. The Padawan held the Master for a long time, until Qui-Gon felt able to let go of Obi-Wan physically and still carry her strength inside of him.

Chapter Three

Pacing a careful three steps behind her Master as usual, Obi-Wan left the hood of her cloak up as they traversed the corridors of the Temple on their way to the Council chambers. When Qui-Gon cast her an inquisitive glance, obviously wondering if she was still feeling shy about her appearance, she murmured, "I'm savoring the privacy. Once this meeting is over, there's probably not going to be much left for either of us."

"Agreed."

From Qui-Gon's expression, he didn't look like he was looking forward to the attention, either. The Padawan population would undoubtedly descend upon Obi-Wan, but as the Master of the transformed apprentice, Qui-Gon would have to deal with the endlessly curious Masters.

Qui-Gon leaned down to address the cloaked figure at his side. "Perhaps we should confer later and decide how much you wish to reveal to strangers?"

"Sounds good to me." From her scathing tone of voice, Obi-Wan left no doubt that she wouldn't want to reveal much.

For the first time in Obi-Wan's memory, she and her Master did not have to wait an hour in the receiving room of the Council Chambers, but were ushered straight before the quorum the moment they arrived. Bowing her head, Obi-Wan smiled grimly to herself, knowing all too well how eager everyone had to be to see her.

[If you think I'm just going to waltz in here and show off, let you stare and prod Qui-Gon as well as at me... You can just forget it. It's *my* transformation, *my* body, and I'm controlling this encounter. With a lot of help from my Master, of course.]

"Gathered, we have, to explore the rumors of your apprentice's transformation," Yoda began gently, as if sensing Obi-Wan's uneasiness at being forced to reveal something so very personal.

"I beg to inform the Council that it is more than rumor," Qui-Gon began in a voice so quiet, that, except for Yoda -- whose ears caught everything -- everyone seated around them had to lean forward to catch his words. "Our mission to Sarsden was a success. As a reward for that success, the king offered us what his handmaiden referred to as a gift. We stand before you to show you what, exactly, that gift consisted of."

Turning slightly, he focused the Council's attention on Obi-Wan, who pushed back the hood of her cloak. Her expression was an exacting study in neutrality as murmurs of dismay and amazement traversed the circle.

Mace Windu gestured a tight circle. "Please turn, Padawan, so that all may see this transformation."

"Take off your cloak, first," added Yoda.

Shrugging out of it, Obi-Wan draped it over one arm.

Yoda shook his head. "We must see all of you, Padawan Kenobi."

Qui-Gon closed the distance between them to take Obi-Wan's cloak. Worried blue eyes met gray-green.

[Are you all right with this?] Qui-Gon asked silently.

[I'll have to be, won't I?]

Leaving Qui-Gon's side, Obi-Wan walked a wide circle around the chamber. Meeting every member's gaze in their turn, she challenged them to... what? Not even she was certain.

[To treat me with respect, certainly. Not to laugh, absolutely. To maintain my dignity, my serenity, without their help or interference. 'There is no emotion, there is peace.' Well, you're going to see that *this* Padawan has made his... er, her... peace with the situation and is living in the present. 'There is no passion, there is serenity.' Yep, that's me. So what are you going to make of it?]

The dark-haired beauty called Depa Billaba smiled encouragement as Obi-Wan reached her. Holding out a hand, she murmured, "Could you come here for a moment, Padawan Kenobi?"

She rose as Obi-Wan did as she was bid. Slender fingers touched her face, exploring the bones.

"Whatever method they used to do this," Depa announced to the Council, "the physical results are flawless." Taking Obi-Wan's hands in hers, she studied his frame before addressing Qui-Gon. "From your observations, are the changes limited to the physical?"

Folding his arms, Qui-Gon shook his head. "Obi-Wan's emotions have been affected as well, though I suspect those, too, are related to the physiological changes. His emotions often seem to be driven hormonally, as I believe is common with the human female."

Depa nodded understanding, while Obi-Wan wondered, [What does that mean?]

[It means that you are more emotional as a woman, Padawan. Subject to the whims of the female cycle of hormones.]

[Oh. So that's why I want to cry all of the damned time. Why I get upset sometimes at the drop of a saber for the least little thing.]

[It would seem so.]

[You're having to put up with quite a lot from me, aren't you?]

[Remember that I love you, Obi-Wan. I most certainly do not 'put up' with any part of you.]

"Do you feel that this gift was meant as an attack?" Mace Windu asked.

"No, sir," said Obi-Wan. "It was presented as an honor. However dubious." Quickly, she related the circumstances surrounding the actual change, even as Depa wandered around her, mentally cataloguing the changes.

"Strange way for someone to express their gratitude," muttered Windu. Leaning forward, he stared at Obi-Wan in a way she was finding most uncomfortable.

[He looks like he's hungry, and I'm dinner.]

"What of future delegations to the planet?" Mace asked Obi-Wan. "Will they run into offerings of the same... gifts?"

The Padawan shrugged. "Who can tell? Again, Master Windu, this was meant as a reward for my Master's serving them."

"Yet they did nothing to you, Master Jinn?"

"I was scheduled to be in conference with the king. When this was pointed out, the handmaiden was agreeable that the gift was to be bestowed upon my Padawan. With hindsight, it occurs to me that perhaps they planned it that way."

Obi-Wan returned to her Master's side as Depa completed her delicate inspection. Unobtrusively, the apprentice glided up to stand a little closer to Qui-Gon than was their usual custom before the Council.

"Whatever gift they had chosen to bestow on either of us, we could not have refused it," Qui-Gon pointed out, turning slightly to welcome Obi-Wan beside him.

"Result of that would have been death," acknowledged Yoda. "What sort of gifts have they in store for future visitors, hmm?"

"Did you ask why the gift was given?" Windu asked, his gaze still fastened upon Obi-Wan.

"That was taboo according to their custom."

Yoda offered a sympathetic smile, his eyes softening as they crinkled at the corners. "Sorry we are on your behalf, young Padawan, for this transformation. Changed back, would you wish to be?"

"Of course, my Master." Obi-Wan offered a slight bow. "But the chances of that are very small, I suspect."

"The Council will explore the possibilities," Mace assured, steepling his fingers. "Future delegations will be warned, and we will send a formal notice to the planet saying that these changes are not acceptable by our custom."

"Warned, all visitors must be. This will not be allowed to happen again. Help Obi-Wan, however, this does not," Yoda admitted. "Master Qui-Gon will continue to guide you. A better Master, you could not have."

Obi-Wan stepped closer to the man under discussion and stole a quick, smiling glance up at him. "I'm well aware of that, Master Yoda. If it wasn't for Master Qui-Gon....."

Shrugging, she spread her hands before him, hoping to convey what words could not.

A warm, heavy hand came to rest across her shoulder. "Obi-Wan is handling the transition well. Already, we have begun the training necessary to accommodate her. I am pleased with his progress thus far."

"We look forward to watching you in competition," said Mace, an eager glint in his eyes.

"You may have to wait some time, sir," Obi-Wan said, almost with alacrity at her ability to deny this particular Jedi Master something. "I doubt that I'll be ready to make a public spectacle of myself anytime soon."

[But what a beautiful public spectacle it would be,] Windu's expression said.

Qui-Gon's hand tightened on Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"We thank you for your report," said Yoda. "The Force be with you, young Kenobi, as you adjust to your transformation."

Bowing his respect, Obi-Wan went to follow her Master from the Chamber, but halted when Qui-Gon sidestepped to approach Mace Windu.

"Could I speak with you privately for a moment?" Qui-Gon murmured.

Without waiting for the Councilman's answer, Qui-Gon stalked out of the room. Obi-Wan followed quickly in his wake, lest the Council think of more awkward questions to ask. Feeling rather than seeing Windu's surprise at Qui-Gon's unexpected request, Obi-Wan knew that the man was following them both out into the receiving area.

Turning abruptly and without warning, Qui-Gon reached out to steady Obi-Wan when she would have ploughed into him. A tilt of his head, a quick squeeze of his apprentice's shoulder, and Qui-Gon sent Obi-Wan safely behind him. Given the "Me Master, you Padawan," glint in his eye, Obi-Wan obeyed that command without hesitation. That particular expression was usually reserved for times of great danger outside the Temple walls. She most remembered it from years before, when she'd been smaller, younger, and less able to defend herself at Qui-Gon's side.

"You wished to speak in private, Qui-Gon?"

"I did." Qui-Gon's quiet voice was in direct contradiction to the animosity Obi-Wan sensed was seething just beneath the surface. "You have been less than subtle in your attraction to my apprentice."

Windu's jaw slackened in surprise, but Obi-Wan could feel the truth of her Master's words. "Qui-Gon­"

[So *that's* why his staring made me feel so twitchy in there,] Obi-Wan realized. [There's so much that I totally miss in this new body, but Qui-Gon seems to pick right up on it. How does he *do* that? I'm still worrying about the situation, trying to figure it out, while he's already in there dealing with it.]

"Right now, your interest is manifesting itself only in your desire to watch Obi-Wan. Unfortunately, you were also instrumental in informing certain members of the Council -- in an untimely, totally unofficial and inappropriate manner -- of private matters regarding events affecting my Padawan. You also showed a blatantly selfish disregard for traditional Jedi training methods by invading our practice session yesterday afternoon."

Shoving back the edges of his cloak, Qui-Gon stretched to his full majestic height -- about four inches taller than Windu. Placing his hands on his belt, Qui-Gon took a step forward. Windu took a step back. Circling around the two men, Obi-Wan sought a better view than the one offered at her Master's back.

"I am speaking with you now in an effort to ensure that your interest goes no further," the Jedi Master said softly. "The caress of your eyes will not evolve into a caress of another kind -- do I make myself clear?"

Qui-Gon's hand rested lightly upon the hilt of his lightsaber. The implication was clear.

"I woudn't--"

"Quite right. You wouldn't. Have I your promise, then?"

Windu's gaze flickered briefly from Qui-Gon to Obi-Wan. It was one thing to discover yourself desiring an imminently attractive young Padawan whose fire you'd always admired, who now possessed a fresh feminine beauty, the likes of which you'd -- literally -- never seen before. It was quite another thing to discover that the Master protecting the beauty was quietly snarling in your face, as fierce and possessive as any Velde lion prepared to fight for its mate.

[Jinn has the power, strength and determination to back this up right here, if need be,] Windu realized, [and he will if I don't make the right noises.]

Glancing back at Qui-Gon, Windu caught sight of something just beneath the Master's left ear. [What the--]

Squinting slightly, Windu focused on the thing and realized it for what it was: hidden deep in the strands of Qui-Gon's mane was a miniature version of the Padawan braid. [There's absolutely no way that Qui-Gon put that there himself. Which leaves only one other person who'd dare try it. And one reason why they'd want it there.] It was all Windu could do to keep from grinning at Obi-Wan over Qui-Gon's shoulder. [The little lioness lies down with her mate; who am I to try to come between that?]

Backing up another two steps, Windu raised his hands in simple surrender and grinned. "You have my promise, Master Jinn. Your apprentice is safe from me."

Backing even further away from Qui-Gon, as if he didn't want to chance turning his back on the Jedi Master, Mace Windu activated the doors leading back into the Council Chamber. Qui-Gon didn't move until the Councilman was well away, with the doors sliding closed behind him.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan murmured softly. "I think."

Still, Qui-Gon didn't relax. Turning his head, he regarded Obi-Wan, who noted that his jaw was set, the look in his eyes was still fierce.

[He's definitely more warrior than diplomat right now,] she realized. [Best to be cautious.]

"I don't believe that I could have handled that myself, Master," she ventured softly, daring to close the distance between them and lay her hand on Qui-Gon's arm. [Calm... The danger is gone now.] "I didn't even realize he wanted me."

Qui-Gon gave a slight smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You're used to being the predator, Obi-Wan. Not the prey. But no matter; you shouldn't experience any trouble from that quarter." Turning, he bowed slightly and gestured his Padawan before him. "After you."

Not wanting to debate the everlasting issue of 'Who goes first: the Master or the Apprentice?' Obi-Wan did as she was bid. Moving from the Council chambers and out into the corridor, she then moved aside and slowed momentarily to let her Master step up beside her.

"Are you ready to build another lightsaber?" Qui-Gon asked companionably, shedding his fierce mood as easily as he would shed his cloak.

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan's eyes shown with what could only be called reserved glee. Fighting with the wrong-sized saber was like fighting while wearing the wrong-sized shoes: too little and it could hurt a lot; too big and if she blundered, she could die. Given the new strategies she was determined on trying later in the day, a perfect fit was an absolute necessity.

"We're not going to the student lab?" she asked when Qui-Gon led her past the lengthy Temple corridor leading across the concourse and into the Jedi Academy.

"I have somewhere else in mind."

 

Chapter Four

Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan into a Temple tower that she'd never seen before, over to a bank of elevators and downward. Deep into the new tower they went, past checkpoints near which Obi-Wan knew she wouldn't have been allowed to breathe without Qui-Gon. Nodding briefly at each guard, her Master was silently allowed entrance, with only the occasional raised eyebrow offered to question the presence of the apprentice at his side.

Subdued lighting, like that in Qui-Gon's own chambers, replaced the hard white light Obi-Wan was accustomed to. Austere decor gave way to more elegant furnishings; a tapestry from Jykstra here, a sculpture gifted from Naboo there. Branching off of the main corridor they traveled were small meditation gardens, complete with benches, fountains and windchimes, offering total privacy in every atmosphere a Jedi Master could want.

"It's beautiful here," she whispered to Qui-Gon, and then caught the disapproving eye of another Jedi Master who was sitting on one of the hallway's benches and glowering as though Qui-Gon were escorting a particularly nasty kind of insect past him.

"I suppose it is." Qui-Gon offered the disapproving Master a respectful nod before sliding a hand across Obi-Wan's shoulders and guiding her closer to him.

Opposite the gardens, an ancient and very out-of-place wooden door was ensconced in a steelite wall. Punching an access code into the pad beside the door, Qui-Gon lifted the black iron latch and shoved his weight against it. The door swung back slowly, with Qui-Gon ushering Obi-Wan inside as yet another, passing Jedi Master shot them a questioning glower.

"Are you sure it's all right for me to be here?" Obi-Wan whispered, noticing that the door Qui-Gon was now closing was about four inches thick. [Where did that thing come from? And how long has it been here?]

"As long as I am with you, Padawan, you are welcome anywhere in the Temple," Qui-Gon murmured, closing the door while Obi-Wan waited in the small, dark corridor beyond.

"That's not what five pairs of Jedi Master eyes told me on the way here."

"You no longer look like yourself, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon reminded her. "The Masters we have encountered no doubt suspect that I have led a stranger into their sacred corridors. Either they will soon learn of your transformation and your identity, or I will deal with their comments later."

He sounded casual and unconcerned, and Obi-Wan suspected that she should take Qui-Gon at his word. [He'll handle it,] she concluded. [Probably with the same icy calm as he handled Mace Windu.]

"It's not yet general knowledge what's happened to you," Qui-Gon continued, leading the way down the narrow corridor, past a string of solid grey steelite doors. "If I visited the Academy lab with a beautiful young woman and we constructed a lightsaber together, you know that the students would talk." Pausing at a particular door, Qui-Gon wrapped a finger around Obi-Wan's braid and tugged gently, teasing. "Especially if I address the beautiful young woman as Obi-Wan, or if she calls me Master."

"I see your point."

Obi-Wan eyed the brass nameplate on the door her Master was keying open. *Qui-Gon Jinn,* it read.

"This room is yours? What's it for?"

"You'll see." The door slid back. With a faint smile, Qui-Gon ushered Obi-Wan inside. "After you, my Padawan."

The lights came up as she stepped across the threshold, only to stop dead. Eyes widening with startled delight, she breathed, "Oh... wow."

Behind her, Qui-Gon chuckled softly. "Would you mind taking a mere two more steps into the room, please?"

"Sorry." Obi-Wan did as she was asked, allowing Qui-Gon's broad frame entrance as well. Turning in place, she surveyed the small, very private lab.

"Wow..." she whispered again, gazing on a spotless workbench, a wall full of top-of-the-line tools, and a storage cage containing row upon row of raw parts and the supplies necessary to do everything from building a service droid to outfitting a hyperdrive.

Standing before a wall panel, Qui-Gon punched a button. To the left of the workbench, an accordian shield folded neatly up into the ceiling. A clear glass window was revealed, which looked out onto a private ship's hangar. The view afforded was all too familiar to Obi-Wan -- except that she'd always seen it from another angle, when she and her Master had entered through the arched entry at the other side of the quadrant housing their quarters. Before the window was Qui-Gon's personal starship, the *Marauder.* She sat, sleek and blue and elegant in her private berth, patiently awaiting her Master's pleasure.

"Nice view," Obi-Wan observed dryly. "Now I know how you always managed to so quickly come up with those replacement parts you wanted me to install." Shaking her head, Obi-Wan looked up at Qui-Gon, who'd come to join him before the window. "I can't believe that you've brought me here to build a lowly apprentice's lightsaber."

Qui-Gon shrugged out of his cloak, set it on a peg beside the door. "My lab is meant to be used, Obi-Wan."

"Yeah, but--"

"But what?" Qui-Gon reached for Obi-Wan's cloak even as he waited patiently for his Padawan to put the words together.

"I feel... so... *unworthy* of this."

"The lightsaber you make will not be." Setting Obi-Wan's cloak atop his own, Qui-Gon called out, "Theron, attend."

Immediately, a pit droid leaped down from the top of the parts cage, unfolded itself, and bounded over to Qui-Gon. Chattering excitedly, it bowed briefly before unfolding its metal claws and awaiting its Master's commands.

"We're building a lightsaber. Bring the necessary parts, including a set of at least five smaller casings from which we will choose. You'll have to visit exterior Stores to get the casings, as those we have on hand are too big."

A series of enthusiastic whistles met that command.

"Carry on, then."

Grabbing a lab tray, the pit droid threw back the door of the storage cage and began digging into the first series of boxes.

"Theron huh?" Obi-Wan murmured as the tray was returned to them, complete with an abundant selection of power cells, small insulation packets, tiny metal knobs, wiring, and other required bits and pieces. "A name which translates to, I assume, 'the hunter'?"

Qui-Gon gave a crooked smiled and gestured for his apprentice to seat herself on one of the stools before the workbench. "Can you think of a better name for one that fetches and carries?"

Opening a drawer, the Jedi Master brought forth a set of small screwdrivers, guides and wrenches. "You'll be needing these, I believe." Taking the stool opposite Obi-Wan, he handed over the tool set, then leaned back and folded his arms. "You do remember how to build a lightsaber?"

"If I don't, you can ship me off to Agricorps." She favored him with a wry grin. "I'd be a pretty sorry apprentice if I couldn't do this."

"Agreed. Which is why I asked." Reaching down, he tugged on her braid again.

Obi-Wan rubbed the side of his head. "Master, I wish you wouldn't do that. You know it's not a leash, and it's annoying."

"Which is why I do it. Here are your casings, I believe."

Theron plunked another tray between Master and Apprentice. Metal rattled against metal, with the skeletal cylinders gleaming spotlessly up at them.

"Doesn't look much like a lightsaber to me." She frowned, then intoned solemnly, "And so it begins. Query One: Is Jedi Apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi capable of selecting his... pardon me, her... hilt casing without the expert advice of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn? We'll keep you informed."

"Sarcasm does not become you, my Padawan."

"Consider it revenge for your abusing my braid."

Rolling the first casing back and forth in the tray, she didn't even bother picking it up. The two beside it were inspected more closely, only to be rejected as well. As were the remaining two.

"Are there any others where these came from?" Obi-Wan plaintively asked the pit droid, who simply stared up at her, non-comprehending. "Huh. I guess you only take instruction from our Master. Sort of like me?"

"What, exactly are you looking for?" asked Qui-Gon, a faint warning in his voice. While the aesthetic look of a lightsaber was important, it wasn't important enough to send a droid endlessly scouring the Temple supplies for just the right design.

"I want one that looks like yours."

Startled silence met that announcement. After a long moment, Qui-Gon murmured, "You could have said so in the first place, Padawan."

"And miss astonishing you?"

Qui-Gon shot his Padawan a look that said, *Behave.* "Theron, attend," he ordered. "Bring us 24-, 26- and 28-gauge duplicates of my casing FP32-ZB9."

Snatching the tray of rejected casings, the droid bounded off. Less than two minutes later, it returned with the new ones. Obi-Wan hefted the smallest, only to find it was too small. In the end, she settled on the 26-gauge casing.

"You can always refit it later it you do not like it," suggested Qui-Gon. "I'll keep the larger one on hand, just in case."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan murmured, sounding distracted as she had already turned her attention to cracking open the casing and fitting insulation around the new diatium power cell.

Moving aside the belt ring, she took the grounding wire Qui-Gon offered and attached it to the metal ring as a safety precaution. *She* wouldn't be the one to accidentally -- make that stupidly -- short out the power cell and delicate crystals before they'd even had the chance to perform.

Crouching over the casing and all but blocking Qui-Gon's supervisory view so that he had to inch his stool closer, Obi-Wan installed the insulation, diatium cell, dual plasma-pack and necessary wiring to connect the three.

Qui-Gon noticed that his apprentice had a habit of sticking her tongue out between her teeth in concentration while she worked. [A childhood habit? Definitely an endearing one.] Her thigh to Qui-Gon's thigh, she rubbed against him as she worked carefully for long minutes beneath her Master's watchful gaze, but seemed oblivious to their touching. Qui-Gon, however, was not.

"I thought this would be easier with small fingers," Obi-Wan murmured in a voice that Qui-Gon was only just beginning to realize was still one of the most seductive he'd ever heard.

"I suspect that it would be easier only if you were working on a saber whose size matched your original."

Their fingers brushed as Obi-Wan took the crimpers Qui-Gon offered and began connecting the wires to their appropriate connectors.

"Blue wire to the blue plasma-house," she murmured in that voice -- so soothing when she'd been a man and so lethal to Qui-Gon's senses now that she was athe wires. Sliding a companionable arm across her Master's shoulders, Obi-Wan leaned against him and watched avidly.

"For a big man, you do very delicate work," she murmured into Qui-Gon's ear.

"Practice," the Master admitted, without reluctance or embarrassment. "You've no idea how many of these things I've had to build. Or rebuilt. But never one so small, my Padawan."

Turning his head, Qui-Gon smiled. Lining up the blue and red wires, he used the crimpers to twist them together, and then ran them down the center of the casing, which made them fit neatly between the plasma houses.

"That's an elegant way to do it." Draped across Qui-Gon's shoulder in her determination not to miss a single technique or hint that her Master might share, Obi-Wan's cheek caressed his. Her breasts were crushed against Qui-Gon's shoulder-blades, her breath was warm on his skin. Obi-Wan's nearness felt so good and so right that Qui-Gon's body insistently demanded more.

Gritting his teeth, the Jedi Master focused on the lightsaber. Over the next few minutes, Obi-Wan murmured questions, observations, and sweet appreciations into his ear, which had the effect of gently and steadily encouraging his arousal. [If Obi-Wan keeps this up, I'm going to seduce him within an inch of his life once we're finished here.]

"Why are your hands shaking all of a sudden?" she asked in all innocence, her breath stirring Qui-Gon's hair and nearly making him leap off of the bench as his erection swelled another inch. Or two.

"Fatigue," he drawled, shifting in discomfort and not believing the excuse any more than his Padawan would. "I believe it's time you chose your focusing crystals, Obi-Wan."

"Oh, yeah." Instead of backing away from Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan simply leaned harder against him and slid the tray of supplies closer.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and nearly moaned when Obi-Wan's left hand caressed the back of his neck in an effort to maintain her balance. Reaching down, the apprentice dipped her free hand into the tray. Palming each quartz crystal in its turn, she closed her eyes and concentrated on its energy.

"These two, I think." She dropped them into the palm of Qui-Gon's waiting hand.

Staring down at them, the Master hesitated for a moment, as though lost in thought. Half of him was trying to tame his massive need so that his fingers would stop shaking; the other half of him was very soberly considering defying thousands of years of Jedi tradition concerning the crystals in a Padawan's lightsaber.

"Select a third crystal," he finally instructed. "A smaller one."

"Another?" Obi-Wan questioned, her natural voice all but a purr at Qui-Gon's ear. "Master, do I need a blade that long?"

Qui-Gon winced as Obi-Wan's tone and its innocent innuendo shot straight between his legs.

"It won't affect the blade length." [Though you're definitely affecting mine,] he thought. "Theron, attend. Bring me the freshest JD30 circuit you can locate."

"I've never heard of that circuit," said Obi-Wan, selecting another crystal as she'd been instructed. "What is it?"

"Coupled with the third crystal, it's what makes my lightsaber more powerful than yours. It will let you drive the blade through the strongest blast door, or through a series of them if need be." Qui-Gon cast Obi-Wan an ironic look. "It also will prevent your weapon from expiring underwater. And it has a few more special features we'll discuss as they come up."

Obi-Wan handed Qui-Gon the third crystal before resuming her place at her Master's shoulder. "I've heard legends about that sort of thing. But isn't it against tradition for me to have something like that until I'm a Master?"

"I care more about keeping you safe than honoring tradition right now," Qui-Gon murmured as he set the first crystal low in the power cell housing and the second one just above it. The third, he placed carefully between the blade-power adjust module and a power vortex ring sized specifically for its purpose. It was delicate work for such huge hands, and he was pleased that his fingers were once more steady, no matter his inner turmoil.

"I am breaking no strict Code ruling, giving this to you," he said. "I am merely hedging your bets in battle. Still, it might be wise if neither of us mentions this... enhancement... where Temple ears may hear."

"Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon shuddered. [By all the gods... that voice.] His arousal grew. Sliding off of the stool and out of the circle of his Padawan's arms, he decided that his apprentice could finish his own lightsaber. "Obi-Wan...."

Obi-Wan frowned at Qui-Gon's desperate tone, even as the Master brushed a finger down Obi-Wan's throat.

"You might want to give some thought to changing the timbre of your voice."

"I'm sorry, Master," came the automatic apology before confusion filled his eyes. "Wha-at? Why?"

"It can have a certain effect on... people."

Narrowed gray-green eyes locked into his. "No one's complained before. You've never complained before, so what's the problem? You used to find my voice very relaxing, and said so many times."

Knowing there was nothing for it but to explain in the clearest way possible, Qui-Gon sighed and took on of Obi-Wan's hands in his. "Your voice is not relaxing me very much right now, my Padawan."

Guiding that hand beneath the edge of his tunic and up between his legs, Qui-Gon held it there for a long moment -- more than time enough for Obi-Wan to feel his ever-increasing need.

Snatching back her hand as Qui-Gon surged against her palm, Obi-Wan blushed furiously. "The sound of my voice is enough to do that to you?"

"Yes."

"I... er..." She tangled her hands through her hair. "Master, do you want me to apologize? By the Sith, I swear I'll never say another word to you."

Qui-Gon's startled laughter filled the room. Reaching out, he tugged once more on Obi-Wan's braid. "Making a man want you is not necessarily a bad thing, Obi-Wan. Rather, it's a power you possess. One of which you need to be aware, to use as you see fit."

"But if it's all wrapped up in how I talk, then it's part of me all of the time. I don't mean to arouse you, Master. I can stop walking around naked in front of you, but I truly don't know how to talk any other way."

Obi-Wan said it with simple honesty, in *that voice*. Again. Closing his eyes, Qui-Gon clenched his fists, arched strongly, and moaned.

Obi-Wan eyed him and offered a sympathetic grin. "Worse, huh?"

"It's getting there."

She considered her Master's predicament. "When you kissed me in the training room yesterday, were you wanting to make love to me then as you do now?"

"Yes." A quiet, honest admission, with blue eyes pleading for understanding.

"What about last night, when I was running around naked?"

"Yes."

Obi-Wan thought about that. "Then why was your wanting me alright in the training room, but not last night, and not now?"

The question jolted him. "Obi-Wan--"

"Either I somehow make you want me and it's alright, or it's not alright." Leaning up against the workbench, she considered the matter. "You're sending mixed signals, Master, and you can't have it both ways."

That voice, again.

"Padawan, please!" Qui-Gon's own voice was all but a whisper, pleading for mercy.

"Please, what?" she asked softly, deliberately using the tone she now knew would affect Qui-Gon so powerfully. Pushing away from the workbench, she approached with the confident swagger Qui-Gon knew so well. "Please don't undress before you? Please become a mute? Or, please, would I acknowledge what you're feeling and give you permission to act on it? If that's not what you want, then why'd you put my hand... here?"

Reaching both hands beneath the tunic, Obi-Wan cradled her Master boldly, yet carefully, with one hand above, one below.

"The nice thing about leggings is that they're totally form-fitting," Obi-Wan murmured, leaning closer, "beautifully outlining the target one wishes to impact."

Impact it, she did. Standing stiffly before his apprentice, Qui-Gon ground his words out between gritted teeth and let Obi-Wan's hands be there.

"You're quite right, Obi-Wan. I *am* sending mixed signals, while you are quite simply... feeling... your way in a strange new world." [Pun intended, young Padawan, and please don't tease, or you may wish that your lightsaber had exploded in your hands, rather than me.] You're being yourself, and I'm reacting to that."

Offering a sad, lost smile, Qui-Gon wrapped his fingers around Obi-Wan's wrists and gently disentangled her hands. Bringing them to his lips, he braced them against his chest. The better to keep them out of trouble.

"I want you because I love you, Obi-Wan. What you have become affects me as well as you. I can't help reacting to your nearness, just as you can't help being who you are. That... person... just happens to arouse me."

Obi-Wan shook her head. "I don't know how I can change my voice, Master. I'm not even sure I want to try."

"It was wrong of me to ask it. Don't change who you are, Obi-Wan, for you are truly special whether you're wrapped in the body of a man or a woman. I have had these feelings for you for a very long time."

Clenching her hands between Qui-Gon's, Obi-Wan stared up at her Master. "You've...what?" When Qui-Gon did not elaborate, but simply looked down at her calmly, Obi-Wan added, "Coming from you, Master, that's quite an admission."

He shrugged. "Your body has a mind of its own, my apprentice. Mine does, too. Especially where you're concerned."

"Even when I was *male*?" She sounded incredulous.

"Even then," Qui-Gon acknowledged.

She shook her head. "I had no idea."

"I never dared to tell you."

Obi-Wan thought for a moment. "Then it's me you want, and not just the body?"

"It would appear so, as what I feel is determined to manifest no matter what body you are in. But Obi-Wan, you are the only man or woman in my life who has made me feel this way. The difference in our ages, the relationship we have as Master and Apprentice... All argue against our becoming involved with each other."

"So that's why you didn't tell me? You maintained a balance and just... endured, before?"

He nodded.

"You never would have told me about this?"

"Not unless it became impossible for me to bury what I feel -- which it appears to have done. My body responds much more quickly to your nearness, now. And there's the added impulse I feel to protect you. It's all entwined, Obi-Wan, and while I can control it, I don't know how to stop it."

She stood silently for a long moment. "Master, if nothing happens by chance, did it ever occur to you that the Force may have intended this for both of us? Perhaps I've wound up in this body specifically so that we can resolve our feelings for each other."

"When the solution presents itself, don't throw it away?" Qui-Gon ventured. "Do you believe I'm resisting what I feel when I really don't need to? Are you suggesting that I should act on my feelings where you are concerned?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "You're still the Master and I'm the Padawan, so I wouldn't presume to tell you what you should do, but you're the one who's always telling me to feel, don't think. If *you* use your instincts, what do they tell you to do where I'm concerned?"

Qui-Gon drew a deep, anxious breath. "I'm not sure you want to know, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan's eyes held no little exasperation. "Master, there's nothing you could do to me that I haven't wanted to do, or haven't already done, with a woman."

Qui-Gon's reply came almost on a growl. "As you wish, Padawan."

Sliding one arm around Obi-Wan's waist, Qui-Gon ground her against him in a bone-crushing embrace, so tightly that the air rushed from Obi-Wan's lungs. Bending over her, Qui-Gon took her mouth just as she thought, [I can't breathe.]

[I'll breathe for you,] came Qui-Gon's voice in her mind, companioning his more than obvious physical need. Obi-Wan's feet left the floor; neither one of them cared. This kiss was nothing like the probing one they'd shared the day before: Obi-Wan recognized and responded to the demanding, barely contained arousal Qui-Gon was battling.

[If you stop, I'll scream,] she warned through their link, being careful to let amusement trickle through as well, hoping it would diffuse the ferocity of her Master's desire.

Qui-Gon answered on a growl, shuddering as he devoured Obi-Wan's mouth and moved on to her jaw and her ear. Seizing her earlobe, Qui-Gon sucked and nuzzled and lapped until Obi-Wan gasped and arched hard against him.

[So, you like that?] Qui-Gon purred back through the bond, totally disinterested in calming himself. [If I continue, my Obi-Wan, you may scream, anyway. I have that affect sometimes.]

[Arrogant....] Obi-Wan shot back the word even as another thought occurred to her. [Wha... Who? *WHO* have you had that affect on?] Burying her fingers in Qui-Gon's hair, she yanked. Hard.

A chuckle rumbled against her. Breaking the kiss, Qui-Gon smiled down at her. His eyes were the deepest blue Obi-Wan could ever remember seeing them. Darkened with passion, they left no doubt that she was wanted.

"Jealousy does not become you, my Padawan."

"Who *was* she?" Obi-Wan gasped as Qui-Gon arched experimentally. Distracted from asking, Obi-Wan sighed. "That's very, very nice...."

Qui-Gon arched harder and rubbed, seeking to increase the friction. Sliding his hands across the small of Obi-Wan's back, he cupped her hips and tilted them upward, more firmly against him.

Returning Obi-Wan's feet to the floor, Qui-Gon began kissing her again. Sucking on Obi-Wan's lower lip and winding his fingers through the short hair, Qui-Gon drove all thought of the supposed past competition right out of Obi-Wan's mind.

"Gods, but I need you...." Obi-Wan managed to groan out. Frantic to touch Qui-Gon, she slid her hands beneath the older man's tunics, scratched through the hair on his chest, and found a sensitive nipple. Shoving aside the fabric, she fastened hungry lips there.

Qui-Gon was thrusting steadily against Obi-Wan by now -- instinctive, mindless thrusts that sent Obi-Wan's own desire spiraling upward to meet him. Releasing his nipple with reluctance, she whimpered.

"Closer -- Master, please? Clothes...off...." She sounded almost childlike as she struggled with the hateful layers of material. "Want you."

"Not here," gasped Qui-Gon, breathlessly feathering kisses along Obi-Wan's temple and lifting her hard against him once more, for the pure pleasure of feeling her so close and yet so far. His frustration flooded the link they shared. "Not now. Here...it's all wrong. You deserve better."

It was Obi-Wan's turn to laugh. "Master, I don't need candles and wine. I don't want them!"

"Perhaps I do." Returning his Padawan's feet to the floor, Qui-Gon disentangled her fingers and tried to look stern. But with his hair in disarray, his lips reddened by their kisses, and his nipple damp from Obi-Wan's mouth, the Jedi Master failed miserably.

Setting his apprentice well away from him, Qui-Gon reached for some tattered semblance of control. Watching him silently for a moment, Obi-Wan realized, [All I have to do is say something -- almost anything, up to and including asking him the time of day -- and he'll be writhing for me. For ME. That's pretty special. And pretty scary. Not a responsibility I ever would have sought.] But she had it now, and would guard it -- and her Master's vulnerability as he needed Obi-Wan so badly -- with everything she was.

"You're shaking," Obi-Wan observed, once Qui-Gon had visibly worked through a quick series of exercises to calm his breathing, and was refusing to look at her.

"You're right." Yanking the hair tie out of his hair, he stared down at his trembling fingers. "By all of the hundred tiny gods of Endor, Obi-Wan, what are you doing to me?"

"Loving you," she answered simply. "You've never lost control with a woman before, have you?"

"No." Growled. "And I don't plan to start now."

Obi-Wan could feel and see the immense effort it took for her Master to gather the shreds of his passion-shattered being, focus in the living Force once again and turn, with courage, to face his Padawan. The enormity of his desire, screaming for release, made Obi-Wan realize that, had she never been a man, she wouldn't have understand the immense control it was taking for Qui-Gon to deal with the situation.

[Were it me in his place, could I find the same courage and control?] she wondered.

"Would you mind putting this where it belongs?" Qui-Gon offered up the wayward hair tie.

"Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon shivered.

"Sorry. That voice again, huh?" Taking the hair tie, Obi-Wan was careful not to touch Qui-Gon's bare skin. Stepping behind him, she tapped dispassionately on his shoulder. "You're too tall. As usual."

He knelt for her. Working swiftly, almost roughly, Obi-Wan finger-combed through the thick strands of hair for the second time that day and gathered them together beneath their respectable fastening.

[What is so amazing about this entire scenario is that *I'm* just fine,] Obi-Wan considered. [Of course I want him, too. Of course I'm looking forward to our picking up where he left off -- and hopefully soon. But I'm nowhere near the state he's in. I guess it really doesn't take much to get to a man... any man. They say women react differently, but I'm just beginning to understand what a drastic understatement that is.]

"All done." Obi-Wan patted her Master companionably on the shoulder. "I need to finish my lightsaber. Do you want to wait for me here, or take a walk?"

Rising to his feet once more, Qui-Gon did not turn around. Gathering his cloak from beneath Obi-Wan's, he announced, "I am going to the meditation garden just across the hall. The lights here will extinguish themselves, the door will lock behind you automatically when you leave. Theron will store himself. When you have finished, you will let me know?"

"Yes, Master."

Palming the door control, Qui-Gon sighed deeply and left without a backward glance.

[He's leaving to survive, not because he's slighting me,] Obi-Wan realized. Through the bond, he sent, [I love you, my Master.]

[As I love you, my Obi-Wan. Always,] came the weary, half-embarrassed reply.

 

III. PURIFY

"A vision of eternity, like a dream,
A fantasy of old,
The keeper of my sanctity, now it seems
The Master of my soul."
­Miriam Stockley, "Miriam"

Chapter One

*He's in here.* Obi-Wan confirmed the presence of her Master's aura within the small meditation garden before slipping through the door. It wouldn't do for her to walk in on the wrong Jedi Master.

Save for the gurgle of a small stream tumbling through the private space, the moss and ivy garden was insulated and quiet. Tiptoeing down the stone path, Obi-Wan found Qui-Gon sitting cross-legged next to the stream. Eyes closed, breathing practically non-existent, he was deep in trance. Sinking down beside him, Obi-Wan followed his example, letting the sound of the water wash over her until she merged with it.

Tension she'd acquired while hunched over the workbench flowed out of her shoulders to be carried away by the sound of the water. Her fingers and toes tingled as a more efficient blood-flow established itself, and she found herself smiling slightly as she flowed ever deeper into the meditation.

[I know that meditation isn't meant to be an escape from the real world,] she reflected, [but *damn* this is nice!]

[It is, isn't it?] Qui-Gon's mental voice intruded. [Perhaps we should install a fountain in our own garden?]

[I'm sorry. Was I projecting too strongly?]

[No. I was listening for you. I have completed my meditation, Obi-Wan, and am prepared for our practice session. Let me know when you are ready.]

[Yes, Master.]

For a few more minutes, she took advantage of the uncommon luxury of sitting and doing nothing, being one with the water and the Force. [I probably won't set foot in another garden like this for twenty years -- until after I've trained my own apprentice and become a Master... Hah. That time is far and away.]

Seconds later, she remembered the new lightsaber at her side and eagerly began resurfacing. Opening her eyes, she found her Master sitting as he had been, but now his blue eyes were open. He wasn't bothering to hide the fact that he'd been watching Obi-Wan, and from the longing and hunger in his expression, Obi-Wan suspected that Qui-Gon was still aroused. More than that, if she reached through their bond... just over there... he could feel Qui-Gon... pulsing.

Unable to resist offering a mischievous smile, Obi-Wan asked, "Are you going to be able to practice in your current state?"

"Yes."

"Do you want an ice bath first?"

Qui-Gon narrowed his gaze. "What happened to the traditional cold shower?"

Obi-Wan shook her head and tried to look mournful. "I think you're beyond that."

Another heavy sigh was his only answer. Getting gracefully to his feet, Qui-Gon offered a hand to help up his apprentice. If that hand was hotter than normal, Obi-Wan wasn't surprised.

"I would protest that you don't understand, but...." Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow.

"You'd be wrong." Taking the hand he offered, Obi-Wan rose and leaned up on tiptoe to grin and kiss the bearded cheek.

 

 

The first thing Obi-Wan noticed when they walked into their usual practice room is that the door had been repaired.

"Did anyone say anything to you about this?" Obi-Wan asked, running a hand over the new paneling.

Qui-Gon cast an innocent glance over his shoulder. "Say anything about what?"

Shrugging out of his cloak, Qui-Gon began warming up. Obi-Wan followed suit, completing her exercises beside Qui-Gon and noticing that the Master closed his eyes so that he didn't have to watch Obi-Wan. She grinned, sympathetic to her Master's plight, but also a bit proud that she'd been the one to inspire it. [I'm not sure what you see in me, but...Nice to know you like it.]

"All right," she murmured. "Let's see just exactly what this body can do."

Leaving behind the new lightsaber, she paused on the edge of the mat while Qui-Gon deliberately lagged behind. Throwing herself into a series of flips and aerial maneuvers, she used the entire room while Qui-Gon waited at a safe distance.

Unable to resist, Qui-Gon opened his eyes and began watching. After completing one furious routine, Obi-Wan paused to catch her breath. With hands on hips, she paced in a circle and panted, considered the proficiencies and deficiencies in what she'd just done. Moving experimentally into a second routine, she performed an even more demanding series of tumbling and aerial half-twists before starting over and doing it all again.

This time, she double-timed it. Her speed and ferocity made Qui-Gon all but stop breathing.

"Shouldn't you slow down?" he called across the mat.

"No need!" Obi-Wan shouted back, spinning and tumbling in the air, totally fearless. "Master, this is *fantastic!*"

She seemed to defy gravity. Drawing the Force around her like an intricate web of support, she executed flawless maneuvers for the sheer pleasure of flying and falling, and laughed as the new body responded perfectly.

Smiling despite himself, Qui-Gon continued to watch. [Obi-Wan has loved this sort of thing since before I met him, certainly,] Qui-Gon reminded himself. Years before, he hadn't been proficient enough to train his Padawan in this area, and so had obtained the help of two of the finest gymnastic trainers serving at the Temple. 'Force-enhanced flight,' they'd called it.

[Flashy, but effective,] Qui-Gon called it. [Even I have to admit that.]

Within fifteen minutes, Obi-Wan had discovered that she could propel herself much further and higher than before. [I can go in tight, add extra spins, distance, whatever. This is going to work out just fine.] She wasn't about to tell her Master that; let Qui-Gon discover it on the practice mat in a few minutes.

After only half an hour, Obi-Wan knew her new body for what it was: coiled energy untouched, lighter and more compact than what she had had as a man; young and eager, ready and willing to answer her every command. Grinning from ear to ear, she finished and padded across the mat to bow respect and readiness to her Master.

Picking up Obi-Wan's new lightsaber where it laid atop her cloak, Qui-Gon activated it. "Shall we test this?"

"Absolutely." Wiping the sweat from around her neck, Obi-Wan started to take the weapon.

"A moment. Let me--"

"Master--" she began to protest, ready to remind Qui-Gon that she'd been trained to test them as well as to build them.

"I do not doubt your abilities," he intercepted the thought. "Far from it. But I know what to expect, what the saber should feel like. Let me make sure that it is functioning properly, please?"

Obi-Wan nodded acquiescence and schooled herself to be patient. There was only one problem: because of his large hands, Qui-Gon couldn't get a proper grip on the smaller hilt. It was far too small for him to fit all of his fingers around it, and Obi-Wan smiled to see him attempt to do just that.

"Problem, Master?"

"You're intolerably small," he grumbled. "I'll have to use this one-handed."

Obi-Wan nodded sympathetically. "It looks like a child's toy in your hands."

"We both know it's far from that." Activating it, he stepped well away from his apprentice and did a couple of experimental passes.

To Obi-Wan's ears, it sounded different -- more powerful, more dangerous to her ears. Even at a distance, the humming buzz vibrated through her ribs. [Will it do that when I'm holding it, too?] At least the blue light was steady and familiar.

Unclipping his own, heavier lightsaber, Qui-Gon tossed it to Obi-Wan and said, "Let's work through the intermediate fourth stage. Level three. Positions only."

Nodding her understanding, Obi-Wan powered on the Master's weapon and stood ready. She could remember years ago, when Qui-Gon had always counted off the first six positions in order to establish an exact speed for his Padawan, who had Obi-Wan obliged him. A few minutes later, Qui-Gon powered down the saber and offered it to his apprentice. "It seems fine to me. If you experience any problems, disengage immediately."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan returned Qui-Gon's weapon to him.

"Advanced stage. Level ten. Practice speed."

[Practice speed?] Obi-Wan's heart sank. [Infant speed.] Yet the minute she powered on the 'saber, she understood the wisdom behind that request. "Master?"

"Yes, Obi-Wan?"

"Should it make my fingers tingle?"

He nodded. "One of the functions of the third crystal we installed is to enhance the Force as it interacts with your own living aura. Your new weapon carries features more powerful than the version you were taught, and less effort is definitely more in this case. Try to ride lightly the lightning in your hand. The first point of contact with that lightning is the tips of your fingers. Think of it as an amplifier and let the Force flow between you. When you succeed, the tingling should lessen. In time, you'll grow used to it."

Obi-Wan blinked and grit her teeth against the itchy sensation. "Now I understand why you want me to go slowly. I can *feel* the power arcing to the pulsar tip and back down, through the handle. In the wrong hands, this would be like putting a galaxy starfighter in the control of someone whose only experience is driving a terran-bound ferry across a seasonal river."

"Exactly."

"And you trust *me* with this?" She was stunned. "Why doesn't yours feel this way to me?"

Qui-Gon smiled. "Don't you remember the first time you held mine? You reacted much the same way. You even said that the vibration made your lips itch. You've become attuned to my aura and the saber's power. Familiarity with the Force leads to intimacy with the Force."

"Well, it's nice to know that I've such a close relationship with your lightsaber. Are you ready, my Master?"

"Yes."

They ran through the exercises Qui-Gon had ordered, with Obi-Wan taking advantage of her Master's patience and learning slowly about the new weapon. It didn't take long, though, for her to grow accustomed to it, for her caution to fade and her excitement to grow.

"Master, I want to go faster."

"When have you not?" Stepping back, Qui-Gon bowed and took the ready position. Raising his head and hardening his gaze, he challenged his Padawan with nothing more than a look. "Battle mode: lowest energy setting."

Obi-Wan's heart leaped to hear that order, which translated to, "Treat me exactly as you would your enemy." No breaks given to student or to Master. When she'd been younger, her Master's words had made terror run through her. [What if I'm not good enough, what if I don't remember enough, what if I make him disappointed in me?]

Obi-Wan's litany had changed over the years. A few weeks ago, it had been, [Wonder if I can get in a would-be crippling blow? Wonder if this time I can actually best him at some point today?] Obi-Wan no longer felt terror at the prospect of facing her Master at full-speed, full-blaze battle simulation. Instead, heady anticipation coiled deep inside her, feeding adrenalin through her veins and immediately readying her, just as it had and would again in real battle.

She took the time to double-check the settings on the saber. If one of them struck the other, the blow would still hurt. But it wouldn't maim, and it certainly wouldn't kill. Saluting Qui-Gon, she was about to power up the lightsaber, then hesitated.

"Master, are you sure about this?"

From Obi-Wan's mischievous expression, Qui-Gon knew she was asking just to torment him. Not only that, she was using *that voice* again. His apprentice's expression told Qui-Gon that he'd just have to learn to deal with it. This was Obi-Wan, and she wasn't changing. At least, not any more and especially not to accommodate him.

"I am sure," Qui-Gon replied. "It will help both of us work off our frustrations."

[Our?] Obi-Wan snorted, then saluted. "As you wish, Master."

Qui-Gon saluted back, only to launch himself forward. Swing, block, spin, block right, left, turn, overhead strike, back-swing....

Somehow, Obi-Wan met it all, even as she sensed that Qui-Gon was channeling into the Force every shred of sexual frustration he was feeling. It wasn't fair, but this was war. Obi-Wan might meet the same power off-planet, with some hulking brute of an enemy, and she needed to know how to defend against it.

Making his passion one with the Force, Qui-Gon embraced the battle as he might instead have chosen to embrace Obi-Wan. It gave his skills a lightning edge and terrified the living Force out of his Padawan. The new lightsaber screamed against Qui-Gon's. The violent vibration made Obi-Wan's hands go numb, made her want to fling the strange, new weapon away from herself.

[Do, and you'll die,] she knew, sensing that there was more to this battle than the test of a single lightsaber. [Lose this, and I'm going to lose more than a little self-respect. You want to be a Jedi? Then dammit, Obi-Wan, *be* a Jedi. Live up to the name and Force connect with that saber in your hand, or it's over. Finished. Just send yourself off to Agricorps. It's not too late, you know?]

[The hell I will.]

So what if Qui-Gon's speed was faster this morning than his apprentice had ever experienced? So what if the blinding skill he was showing was something he'd never taught Obi-Wan? Qui-Gon Jinn was still her teacher, and she wouldn't send Obi-Wan into battle -- *any* battle -- without being certain that she had the ability to defend herself. She'd been privileged enough to be taken beneath the cloak of, to learn at the side of, the warrior the Jedi claimed was the best swordsman in four hundred years.

[Do not shame me, Padawan.]

She caught the thought clearly even as Qui-Gon forced her to block awkwardly. Spinning to disengage, Obi-Wan swung and blocked right, [*NO* -- block *LEFT* or lose that arm!]. Rolling, she came up bouncing to spin back around and parry overhead -- a reach for Obi-Wan, simplicity itself for Qui-Gon -- leapt sideways and *struck* at Qui-Gon's legs, but then the Master was airbound and leaping at her, but Obi-Wan saw it coming and--

*Grit her teeth as her arms began aching, as the acrid smoke from both sabers made her eyes burn and water and she blinked furiously to clear them and ignore the newest pain, ignore the muscles screaming across the back of her shoulders....*

*Stretched higher, longer, faster, and further against him -- HIM, the man she called Master and friend, mentor and, soon probably, lover -- the one hurting her, making her lungs burn, pursuing her from one end of the practice room to the other, never making a mistake, never giving her an opening, bearing down again and again and again until she could no longer feel her fingers, her hands, or her arms. Pushing her, pounding her, loving her until she had no choice but to fight as one with the Force and her body ceased to exist, until she was entranced by the pain and she KNEW it, was captured by the intensity of her Master's passion, the blinding smoke, the ever-increasing thrumming that WAS Qui-Gon Jinn, and his arousal fed Obi-Wan's through the Force, offering itself for the apprentice to use though she scarcely recognized its touch--*

*--and she dropped her shields, wrapped her soul around Qui-Gon's aggression and deliberately merged with his energy to ride HIS lightning as he'd often counseled her do, and she did it with such ferocity and need that she made her Master stagger, and Obi-Wan laughed -- laughed, to see the opening....*

[Enough defense!] the Padawan sang through the bond, her smile taking on the blue sheen of her lightsaber as it skimmed past her own nose -- so close, yet so much in control as it batted Qui-Gon's away, as though the Master's skill was nothing, his demand that Obi-Wan *bow* to his superior skill was nothing. [In your dreams, Master!]

She danced away, prancing and mock-glowering at Qui-Gon as the old Obi-Wan would have, body all at hard angles and taunting him -- 'Come and take me, if you can.'

Teasing him as Qui-Gon had seen Obi-Wan tease other opponents, full of himself and his Master, his maleness and his showmanship. Still, after all that had been done to his Padawan, it was there, shining through, and Qui-Gon was glad of it, *glad,* even as he stalked Obi-Wan across the training mat, drew a deep breath, and threw himself into the attack once again.

Obi-Wan launched herself forward at the same time, slamming her saber blade against Qui-Gon's hard enough to make both weapons scream. But when Qui-Gon stopped and held the confrontation, Obi-Wan did not. Letting go the saber with one hand, she anchored that hand against her Master's shoulder and dared to launch herself up and over him. Qui-Gon nearly fell forward on his face as all resistence fled, but managed to catch himself and spin about, ready for anything.

Whirling, he found himself nose to nose with a very blue blade. Slapping it away, he growled and advanced, sensing that he'd lost the advantage now and not quite certain how it had happened.

Backing away, Obi-Wan danced and grinned and beckoned, waggling his fingers in a most disrespectful, mocking manner. 'Come to me... Come. You know you want to. Know you will.'

Qui-Gon's blue eyes darkened. Straightening to his full height, he held his lightsaber at the vertical and grounded behind it.

Pouting, Obi-Wan paced a few feet before him, all but dragging her saber on the mat, plainly disappointed by Qui-Gon's refusal to be drawn. For the first time since her transformation, Obi-Wan felt the power she held deep within her -- power Qui-Gon had given to her. Had given her permission, also, to use.

Without warning, Obi-Wan launched herself over Qui-Gon again. Spinning about, the Master made as if to intercept his apprentice. Unfortunately, by the time he was there, so was Obi-Wan's booted foot to connect with Qui-Gon's jaw. Staggering back, he recovered his balance quickly, but not quickly enough.

Obi-Wan's blade cut at his leg, singeing his leggings and leaving a trail of soot up the long length of his thigh. It ended mere centimeters from his balls.

[Damn you!] Accompanied by blatant disbelief, the thought streaked through their bond before Qui-Gon could snatch it back.

Delighted laughter filled the practice chamber, and then the daemon called Obi-Wan was there again, dancing before him, beside him, behind him. Sliding beneath his guard, the apprentice took only seconds to burn Qui-Gon lightly in three separate places, making clear with the last touch that absolutely *nothing* was sacred, for the last place Obi-Wan struck was across Qui-Gon's very elegant and just-a-tad-too-slow butt.

[She's fast, she's ruthless, she's magnificent, and she's *mine*,] Qui-Gon thought *to himself* this time. [My padawan. The mare of fire has come into her own.]

Spinning backward, Obi-Wan put some distance between them. Pacing restlessly before Qui-Gon, she struggled to catch her breath a little and watched the predator warily. Confusion filled her gaze when Qui-Gon let himself grin. All too infrequent was that grin; Obi-Wan had seen it only twice in all the years she'd been with his Master. She knew better than to trust it now.

Approaching Obi-Wan casually, Qui-Gon swung his lightsaber before him. Backing up another step, Obi-Wan assessed the Master. In that moment, Qui-Gon lifted his hand and *pushed*. The saber flew one way out of Obi-Wan's hand while her feet flew another, depositing her without warning on her butt.

The green lightsaber vibrated between her eyes, its light burning her retinas so that Obi-Wan saw nothing beyond it. [Damn, he could have drilled into my brain five times over, at this rate. *Stupid,* Obi-Wan!]

Not bothering to roll sideways, she commanded her saber back into her hand and slammed it against Qui-Gon's even as the Master planted a booted foot on his Padawan's belly and brought part of his weight to bear on her.

"I believe this battle is at an end, Padawan."

Obi-Wan glowered up at him. "What, you're going to stand on me and crush me with the Force?"

"That is one option. I will leave it to you to research, meditate, and discern other ways, Obi-Wan. You'd do better to remember that your lightsaber is not your only weapon -- nor is it your enemy's only weapon."

"This fight *can't* be at an end!"

"Why not?"

She considered for a moment. "I was winning not two minutes ago. There's *got* to be a way out of this!"

Qui-Gon waited patiently for her to work it through: the sabers sparked and sputtered angrily against each other.

"I...I could disengage and...." she ventured.

Qui-Gon shook his head and leaned a bit more on his foot, just to make Obi-Wan gasp for breath.

"Checkmate, my Padawan. Your lightsaber is of no further use to you. In any one of five different ways, you are already dead." Stepping backward, Qui-Gon turned off his weapon and walked away.

[Well, damn,] Obi-Wan thought, brushing down her tunic before climbing to her feet. "Master, I want a rematch."

Not even bothering to turn around, the Master waved his lightsaber and kept walking.

"Tomorrow!" she insisted.

"Research first, Obi-Wan. Tell me what you learn. After that, I'll consider your request."

Bounding across the mat, she caught up with the long legs that could always carry Qui-Gon away from whatever he no longer wanted to deal with.

"There's one comfort in all of this," she announced as they reached the other end of the room, the end at which they had begun.

"What is that?" Gathering his cloak, Qui-Gon shrugged into it.

"Even if I'd still been a man, I'd still have lost the fight. I've learned something else, too."

"And what might that be?" Tired blue eyes met Obi-Wan's, all passion spent. In its place stood the usual, dignified, gentle Jedi Master.

Stepping closer, Obi-Wan slid her hands beneath Qui-Gon's cloak to range boldly over his barrel chest.

"This is my center," she whispered. Slipping her arms around Qui-Gon's waist, she rested her head against him and let the tension drain away, much as Qui-Gon had done that morning in their quarters. Aeons ago, it felt like now. The older man was damp and sweaty and hot, but gods, it was glorious just to touch him.

"My Obi-Wan...." He breathed the name on a sigh, sliding a huge hand across the back of his Padawan's neck and laying his other hand across Obi-Wan's back to hug her tentatively to him. When Obi-Wan didn't protest, Qui-Gon dared hold her a little tighter.

Drawing back a little, Qui-Gon tilted up Obi-Wan's chin and lowered his head to take her lips in a tender, seeking kiss. Standing up on tiptoe, Obi-Wan sought to deepen the kiss, breathed deeply Qui-Gon's scent made all the stronger by their session, and dug her fingers into the Master's back. Sucking lightly on Qui-Gon's lip, she moaned when his erection stirred once more. Without hesitation, Obi-Wan slipped a hand between his legs to cup him and stroke firmly.

"I want you," she breathed against his mouth.

Without shame, Qui-Gon pressed against Obi-Wan's hand and let her take possession. Kissing his Padawan gently, with a promise of things to come, he murmured, "I know."

 

 

Chapter Two

Obi-Wan stared at the library monitor screen but saw nothing of the words written there. Yes, she was supposed to be researching saber-to-saber battle strategies in pursuit of a rematch with his Master over the next week or so. And yes, she would. Certainly, she would. By evening, she'd be able to discuss five thousand years worth of Jedi treatises and lectures with Qui-Gon, and the Master would be well-pleased, just as he'd always been after sending Obi-Wan out on these excursions. She might have to take a reminder disk home to reference on their own databook, but she'd done that before, and her Master would understand.

But she wouldn't do it just yet. Right now, Obi-Wan was too busy running her fingers over her lips, which were still warm and swollen and tingling from her Master's kiss. And she was too busy exploring their connection through the Master/Padawan bond: Qui-Gon was somewhere in the building, tending to business, perhaps reporting in private to Yoda, or perhaps ensconced in a Master's reading room mere feet away from Obi-Wan's own cubicle, studying the social and political situation of the next planet they were scheduled to visit.

[He's still aroused,] Obi-Wan sensed. It reached through the Force, touching her, making her aware that she was the focus of his Master's thoughts. [By the Sith, he's been aroused all day; so I don't think that's likely to change. It didn't for me, when I was a guy.]

Smiling at the thought, Obi-Wan found herself wondering how it would have felt to have her Master kiss her when she had still been male. [Would it have aroused *me* all day? How would I feel, now? Should I miss that, or just appreciate what I've got?]

[Best to appreciate it,] she decided quickly, [lest the Fates conspire to take it away from me. No, I think I'm quite contented with his kissing me as I am now. No use wishing for things you can't have, anyway. Besides, there's so much we *can* have -- and probably will, tonight, if I read my Master correctly.]

On the way from the practice rooms to the library, both Master and Apprentice had noticed that Obi-Wan's very presence in the corridors was now attracting stares and murmurs. More than once, a Jedi Knight or apprentice stopped dead in their tracks and stared at the young woman walking beside Qui-Gon, or gigged their companion in the ribs to draw their attention to the couple.

"And so it begins," Qui-Gon murmured, resisting the urge to tuck Obi-Wan protectively beneath his shoulder.

As for Obi-Wan, she straightened his shoulders, raised her head, and boldly stared back at each and every one of them. For some reason, the stares jarred her memory, and she remembered the Master/Apprentice competition that they had entered weeks before.

"Do you still want to honor our entry?" she asked, keeping her voice low, for the hallways appeared to have grown ears since word was getting around of her new state of being.

"Do you feel capable of honoring the entry?"

Obi-Wan shook her head. "I've got too much to relearn. I meant what I said to Master Windu; I don't want to make a spectacle of myself, even if I already am."

Qui-Gon nodded agreement. "I will ask that our entry be withdrawn."

"Thank you, Master."

 

 

They had pre-arranged to meet at dinner. As dusk fell, Qui-Gon left Yoda's chambers after spending the afternoon discussing the information vital to their next mission. The attention thrown Qui-Gon's direction in the corridors from relative Jedi strangers wasn't quite as bad as what he feared it would have been, had Obi-Wan been at his side, but it was bad enough. Attracting his share of knowing grins and nods from people he'd never met, Qui-Gon strode on toward the cafeteria.

[Are they catering some special gathering tonight?] he wondered, as the entrance seemed to be blocked. [Obi-Wan's in the middle of that,] he realized, sensing his padawan's presence like a beacon shining in the night.

Shouldering his way through the crowd, Qui-Gon managed to work his way a little closer to the all-too-human beacon. The closer he got, however, the more the crowd fought him, until he was stopped two rows away from his padawan, who seemed trapped in the very middle of these people.

"So, what's it feel like to be a girl?" a rude male voice asked.

"What's it feel like to be a guy?" Obi-Wan's calm voice drifted toward Qui-Gon. "You tell me, and I'll tell you. Look, I just came in here to get something to eat. I'm not here to compare women to men."

"But you'd be so damned *good* at it, Kenobi." It wasn't difficult to hear the leer in the apprentice's young voice. "Nobody who looks like you do now could be anything but... *good*."

"Tong...." A warning. Qui-Gon knew the narrowed-gaze look that went with that tone of voice, complete with thin lips and a hand on a lightsaber hilt.

[Don't, Obi-Wan. Not here. Not now.] He sent the thought urgently through their bond. [Let me help.]

"I'm good," Obi-Wan was all but purring. "Come a little closer, Tong-Maxel, and you'll see just *how* good I am."

The crowd laughed appreciatively.

"Go on, Maxel," a mocking voice in the crowd urged. "You know you want to."

Someone must have pushed the brash apprentice, because, in the net moment, Qui-Gon heard the unmistakable sound of a lightsaber being ignited. More than that, he could see its blue glow reflected on the faces of young Jedi apprentices standing just over there.

"All right, guys," growled Obi-Wan. "Give me some swinging room, here, please?"

Tapping the shoulder of the apprentice in front of him, Qui-Gon leaned down and whispered, "I need to get through here."

Turning her head, the apprentice glowered at Qui-Gon's breastbone. Recognition dawned when she stared up at the tall Jedi Master.

"Eep!" she gasped, moving sideways in the crush of the crowd to let the Master pass, which only resulted in her being crushed up against his chest as he slid closer to his objective.

"My apologies," he murmured, placing a hand to her elbow by way of apology.

"That's...uh...okay, Master Jinn."

And so it went, as he made his way through two more rows of people, and into the inner circle containing Obi-Wan. Sidling up beside his apprentice, Qui-Gon palmed his own lightsaber and turned it on. Green to Obi-Wan's blue, they presented a strong front -- so strong that the entire crowd surged back a few feet.

"You get our dinner, Padawan," he ordered, all mock glowers and solemnity that never reached his laughing blue eyes. "I'll handle this."

Glancing up at Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan immediately caught his mood. Chewing on her bottom lip, Obi-Wan shook her head. "I don't know about that plan, Master. They're a rowdy bunch. Do you think you can handle them alone?"

Qui-Gon narrowed his gaze and glowered at those within striking distance. "We shall see, my Padawan."

Lunging forward, he raised the saber over his head. The crowd tripped over itself while trying to back up even further.

"I'll...uh... I'll get dinner." Within minutes, Obi-Wan had prepared a tray for them both. "Ready, Master."

With lightsaber still ignited and held like a flaming torch to drive all of the evil creatures of the night before him, Qui-Gon growled and led the way through the now-laughing crowd.

"Did you hear that?" whispered one young padawan.

"He just *growled* us."

"He's very hungry," Obi-Wan informed the young woman. "I think you heard his stomach."

"Yeah, right."

Reaching the edge of the crowd, Master and Padawan turned to bow their respects and continued unmolested through the corridors back to their chambers.

"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan murmured. "I wasn't quite sure how I was going to get out of that with Tong-Maxel determined to feed the frenzy."

"Perhaps you should have called me?" Qui-Gon keyed open the door to their rooms.

"It wasn't serious enough for that."

"Obi-Wan, the time to call for help is *before* you need it. This ensures that the help arrives before it is actually needed."

"I hadn't thought of that." Placing the tray on their small table outside of the kitchen, Obi-Wan turned to face her Master. "I don't think I *would* have thought of it. After all, we're in the Temple. Why would I need your protection here?"

"If your instincts tell you that you need me, then you do, no matter the location."

Nodding understanding, Obi-Wan went to boil water for tea. "I'll remember that."

"That's not to say that you didn't handle the situation well, my Padawan." Qui-Gon followed her into the kitchen, folded his arms and leaned against the counter. "Humor will diffuse almost any situation."

"Well, it wasn't worth threatening people over it. They were curious and just watching, after all. But if Tong had reached for me the way I think he wanted to--." Obi-Wan shrugged. "You probably know what I would have done."

"Cut off his fingers?" Qui-Gon asked mildly.

"I had something a little lower in mind, but fingers would have done fine, I guess."

Handing over the tea, Obi-Wan took her own mug to the table and set out the food. Dinner was a companionable affair, with Obi-Wan announcing what she'd learned during her research of hand-to-hand combat and Qui-Gon pointing out how certain things could be applied in future sparring sessions. They talked long after the meal was over, until Obi-Wan ran her fingers through her hair and grimaced.

"Gritty?" Qui-Gon asked, knowing his Padawan had been so eager to research the combat material assigned that she'd taken a quick shower but not bothered to wash her hair after their session that morning.

"Yeah."

"Go." He gestured with a long-fingered hand. "I'll clean up here."

Offering a brief bow, Obi-Wan headed off to the bath. Taking off her clothes in the small room, she also took the opportunity to stare at herself while trying to see that self the way Qui-Gon saw it.

[I don't understand why he's so attracted to me,] she acknowledged after staring at her bony hips, too-small breasts, and even bonier shoulders. Turning from the mirror, she climbed into the 'fresher. [When I look at me, all I see is somebody who's too little and too fragile. Why he wants me is beyond me. *I* sure wouldn't look twice. But who am I to deny my Master?]

Bathing quickly, Obi-Wan dried her hair and Padawan braid and wrapped a towel around herself. Qui-Gon called from his place at the comp-unit as Obi-Wan padded out of the bath and stuffed her clothes down the laundry chute.

"I've assembled the supply list we'll need for our next mission. Is there anything in particular you want?"

Kneeling beside her Master, Obi-Wan stared at the monitor.

"Your list seems pretty complete to me," she commented, letting her eyes scan the items. A large hand wrapped itself around the back of her head, smoothed over the still-damp hair. Turning her head, Obi-Wan looked up at her Master, who was smiling faintly as he ran the braid between his fingers.

"This needs to be rebraided."

Obi-Wan shivered as the back of Qui-Gon's hand moved over her breast. His fingers trailed down to the ends of the braid and slipped off the red elastic, followed by the yellow. Looking ld be installed--when Obi-Wan felt him pause and knew what he was doing: removing a few strands of his own hair to weave them into hers. The yellow elastic anchored the new hair and then Qui-Gon was off again, braiding more slowly as the hair thinned. His large fingers managed it carefully and applied the red elastic to finish the process. Laying the braid across Obi-Wan's shoulder, Qui-Gon briefly rested his hand there.

"It has always been a pleasure for me that you allow me to do that."

Obi-Wan fingered the end of the braid, was pleased to see streaks of brown and silver hair mixed in with her own auburn. "I thought every Master braided their Padawan's hair."

"When the apprentice is young, yes. But most apprentices take over the task when they're older."

Turning around, Obi-Wan sat back on her heels and regarded her Master steadily. "You've always asked to do it."

"And you've always let me. Each time I've asked, I've expected you to say no."

"I've always liked being touched by you."

Qui-Gon's gaze flickered at that, and Obi-Wan felt desire thrum through the bond. It was gone just as quickly as the Master hooded his expression, and their connection.

"No, Master. Don't...." Reaching up, Obi-Wan laid her hand against the bearded cheek and enjoyed the freedom of being able to do it.

"Don't what?"

"Hide what you're feeling now."

"Obi-Wan...."

She shivered as Qui-Gon's voice dropped, further evidence of his desire.

"Are you cold?" Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan shook her head. "Nervous. I haven't been this nervous since I was twelve and my teachers told me you'd be coming to watch me fight."

"Why are you nervous?"

"I want you to touch me," she whispered. "I want to feel what we felt this afternoon in your lab, and a whole lot more." Sliding her hands up Qui-Gon's thighs, she felt the muscles tense. Letting one hand continue its journey, Obi-Wan tenderly cupped the thick, hot bulge between her Master's legs, felt it surge in response. "I know this is for me, I've been waiting for you all day. It's one of the greatest gifts you could offer, Master. Please... let me accept it?"

On a sigh, he captured her hands and held them in his own. "We don't have to do this just because you know that I want it."

Obi-Wan had to grin. "What makes you think I don't want it, too?"

Arching an eyebrow, Qui-Gon grasped his Padawan's towel and pulled it slowly down to reveal one breast. When she didn't pull away, he leaned over and pressed his lips briefly to her nipple. His eyebrow climbed higher when she hissed and leaned into him.

"It would appear that I'm wrong," he observed dryly, caressing the rising nub with his thumb. "You do want me."

"I just hope that I can please you," she murmured. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing in this body."

"You know enough, Obi-Wan. Our touching could never disappoint me." Qui-Gon ran his fingers through her hair, tugged insistently on the elastic holding the tail fastened at the back. It released easily and he combed slowly through the damp strands. "I will make love to you, but only if you wish it."

"So formal, when I know all too well how fierce you can be?" She let her amusement shimmer through the bond. "I want this. I've wanted it for days, and I won't break, Master."

"No. But I might."

She shivered again at the look in his eyes and felt the delicious fire awake, uncoiling and driving upward as he stood. [Live in the moment,] she remembered his words. [And do try to enjoy it, Obi-Wan.]

Rising and standing with him, she was once more made aware of just how big he was when his warm, calloused hands cupped her upper arms, his fingers spreading across her shoulder blades. Sliding his hands down her arms and her back, he made the towel drop to the floor.

She watched him watching her until his breath quickened slightly, until she sensed his increasing need. Only then did she reach for his belt to find the release with deft, experienced fingers. Seconds later, she unwound his sash and raked the tunics as one up over his head. Her gaze followed his arms, noted the flexing, bulging biceps and corded muscle across his flat stomach that she'd looked at a thousand times before, but had never truly seen. Leaning forward, she lovingly traced a long-healed scar with a finger and a slow, focused breath on his skin before tucking her hands between his leggings and bare hips. Feeling the heat roiling off of his skin -- so much hotter, it seemed, than her own -- she slipped her hands around to the small of his back to slide the material down over his backside.

Even as the leggings dropped, she sank with them to lift first one long, fine-boned foot and then the other, to help him step out of them. Sliding her hand around his ankles, she paused and grinned to see the toes that were so seldom brought out of hiding: long and elegant, they echoed his limbs, his very being. Shifting her weight, she knelt and caressed up the backs of his legs to cup his buttocks before taking a deep breath, leaning forward, and letting her nose blaze a trail through the warm brown hair nestled between his legs. The spicy scent of him filled her senses and made her rub against him, already loving the feel of his hair against her skin.

His thickening erection nudged her cheek, demanding its own share of attention. Cupping his testicles in one hand, she caressed them with the tips of her fingers and squeezed lightly. The fingers of her other hand slid around the base of him to hold him steady as she licked and nibbled at the already weeping tip. Ever so delicately, her tongue pushed back the foreskin to seek the soft slit beneath.

Burying his fingers in her hair, he groaned long and low when she abandoned the tip only to begin suckling her way down the thick vein that throbbed harder beneath her ministrations. Arching, he let his head fall back, and she felt the tremor run through him.

Lifting her head, she blew on the dampened erection and cradled it in her hands. "Hot velvet, Master. And you feel so good to touch."

He surged and shuddered when her tongue sought him again. Growling low, he stepped back out of reach, bent to slide his hands around her waist and lift her effortlessly to her feet. Pulling her against his long length, he curved her head against his shoulder and covered her mouth with his in a long, demanding kiss that saw his fingers caressing behind her ear to find a most sensitive spot she had never known existed. Her knees turned to jelly, her legs threatened collapse just before he broke off the kiss, wrapped a hand around her thigh, lifted her up and slid himself between her legs.

"Hang onto me." He breathed the words into her mouth, then sucked her tongue into a demanding duel meant to devour. He kissed her long and hard and deep, matching the rhythm of his tongue to the rhythm of his thrusts, seeking entrance and teasing her unbearably at the same time.

She gasped, startled to feel him just there. Breaking off the kiss, she shivered and stare up at him. "I've never­"

"Felt that before?"

Snaking out her tongue, she closed her eyes and savored the taste of him on her own salty skin. "Hell, no."

His finger traced where her tongue had passed. "Did you like it?"

"Oh, yeah."

Opening her eyes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and all but climbed him to hold on as he had ordered. Trembling, she waited for his next order, his next breath, whatever he might want of her. Whatever he wanted, it was his -- immediately, irrevocably, completely. Her skin felt hypersensitive to his touch, like a new canvas waiting only for his creation. The feel of his furred chest against her nipples, his beard rubbing her cheek, his deep kisses -- every second of every sensation offered sensations she'd never known existed.

He set his teeth against her earlobe to pull gently and suckle soundlessly. Crying out as the flames leaped and twisted within her, she arched violently against his hardness, suddenly wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of her.

He purred long and low as he picked her up, cradling her protectively against him and carrying her into his sleep-room. The glow of the Coruscant skyline illuminated the small chamber, casting everything in silvered light. Tenderly, he laid her on the bed and drew back as if to look at her again. Shaking her head, she refused to allow him the luxury of not touching. Sitting up, she captured his hand and yanked, as if losing physical contact was to risk his changing his mind.

He lay half on top of her, dipping the bed and bracing his elbows on either side of her. He'd scarcely settled before she was yanking out his leather hair-tie, dropping it over the side of the bed, was combing her fingers through the glorious mane that came spilling down. He allowed the exploration, closing his eyes and purring once more under her caress. Once his mane had been tended, she moved on to lovingly trace the broken line of his nose and too-prominent brow. His blue eyes were black in the night, his breathing fast and shallow. The heat and the length of him rose between them, yet he seemed in no hurry to finish what they had begun.

"Master," she breathed against his beard, cupping his face and feathering kisses up his jaw, across his lined forehead.

"Mine," he murmured in return, lowering his head to accept her kisses. Entwining his fingers with hers, he brought them to his lips, kissed each one in its turn. "So strong, yet so small."

She shook her head. "Not my fault."

"No fault, Obi-Wan," he assured as she laid her cheek against the back of his hand, which still help her fingers captive. "Never a fault."

Shifting lower, he trailed light kisses down her throat only to end between her breasts. One finger circled a nipple, stroking and petting intently as she watched. Mere seconds later, she was moving restlessly and all but begging. Covering her hand with his, she tried to increase the pressure on her breast.

He laughed softly. "You like that, do you? You don't want me inside of you?"

"Want... both," she gasped, even as he lowered his head and she knew his torturous intent. "No, Master. Please!"

A hot, wet tongue, a cool stream of focused breath, and endlessly teasing butterfly lips brought her sensitive nipples to life.

"You want both?" he murmured. "A Jedi is not greedy."

With that, he fastened on her breast with a vengeance, suckling hard and thrusting his tongue and teeth across her nipple to make her arch and writhe. His weight pinned her; her efforts did little but frustrate her further and make him purr again.

"Screw being Jedi!" Obi-Wan panted, tangling her fingers in his hair and yanking. "I want you. Inside me. Now."

He left her nipple with much reluctance and a final long, drawn-out suck that made her yelp when he released her. Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled abruptly onto his back and laughed to see her startlement.

Finding herself lying across him now, she raised herself on his chest to look into his dark eyes and shivered. The chest hair beneath her fingers was warm and soft. The power and scent of him surrounded her, even as their bond pulsed with mutual need. She felt almost drugged with love for him.

"I love you," she whispered.

His fingers caressed her cheek. "Even as I love you."

Holding his gaze, she rose up and reached between his legs to guide him against her. Planting his feet against the mattress, he tensed and thrust slightly, letting her control the penetration and moving only as he had to. She gasped as he filled her, feeling his unrelenting girth and insistence that she accommodate it. In that moment, he read worry and insecurity in her eyes. Without words, she begged him to be kind when he remembered this night, to overlook her inexperience and understand that she'd never walked this road before. Not in this way and never with anyone else but him.

"Relax," he whispered, shuddering and raising his head to meet her halfway as she leaned forward to seek his reassurance, as well as his kisses. Wrapping his arms around her, he thrust gently to drive himself deeper.

She whimpered softly and at first he thought it was with pain, but when she straightened over him once more and tilted back her head, he saw that pleasure drove her. Lacing their fingers together, he joined his rhythm to hers and let it carry them both higher. He thrust harder, deeper, faster, and arched off of the bed when she cried out, climaxing deep within her.

She collapsed atop him, her breath mingling with his as she buried her nose in his neck. Wrapping his arms around her, he held on fiercely even as small, shuddering aftershocks claimed him.

"Mine," he whispered, feeling her fingers tangle in his hair, her breathing steady as she sank toward contented sleep. "My Obi-Wan."

 

 

Chapter Three

Obi-Wan exploded from the 'fresher the next morning. "This is just too disgusting!"

"Pardon me?" Qui-Gon murmured, looking up from the datapad he'd been studying while waiting his own turn in the 'fresher.

Obi-Wan paced before him. "It's messy, I don't want children, and there has *got* to be a way to TURN THIS OFF!!"

Qui-Gon stared at her mildly for a beat or two, until realization dawned. "Only time will turn it off, my Padawan."

"If that's meant to soothe me, forget it!" she snarled.

Stalking over to the small closet in their entry, she yanked out her cloak. It was only as she shrugged into it that she realized it was *his* cloak ­ the young man she used to be. With something sounding suspiciously close to a svleki cub's growl, she shoved the offensive material back into the closet and yanked the next ­ pointedly smaller ­ one down. Slinging it around her shoulders, she all but buried herself in it.

"Do you require assistance, Obi-Wan?"

"Hell, no." The glare she gave him said that it was all his fault, somehow. "I'll just get Kee-Lahn to help me."

"Who?"

"Kee-Lahn. The apprentice you gave my clothes to in the training room the other day? The one who challenged you over the door?"

"I remember. What will you do?"

"Make her to Stores and get what I need."

Qui-Gon offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "At least we know that you're not pregnant."

She narrowed her eyes before backing up and punching the control to open the door. "Don't *even* go there, Master."

The tornado left quickly, with the door sighing shut behind her, and Qui-Gon breathed a sigh of relief in the peaceful aftermath. [That little hormonal display, members of the Council, is one of the reasons why I alway chose a male apprentice.]

 

 

And so began the new pattern of their lives. The days passed as days do, falling into a natural rhythm even as did Obi-Wan's body. Her lessons at the Temple continued, as did her sparring matches with Qui-Gon and other Masters of the Sword. Gradually, she become more comfortable with her body, if not in her body. She expected that, given time, she'd learn to control her emotions again, but that seemed far from happening. She'd never been so impatient or so sensitive before. Not knowing what else to do, she sought solace in her Master's arms, whether or not they made love. Qui-Gon voiced no objection, and Obi-Wan had the feeling that he would hold her until Coruscant itself dissolved, without minding it at all.

"I'm sorry to be such a pain," she murmured against his shoulder, stretched out against the long length of him in the middle of yet another Coruscant night.

"Obi-Wan, you are not a pain. There's nothing wrong with needing affection and reassurance."

"You don't think I'm getting too dependent on you?"

He kissed the top of her head. "Why do you think you might be doing that?"

"Because I'm all right when I'm with you, when we're training or whatever. When I'm away from you, everything feels really wrong. Out of joint."

"Our relationship feels wrong?"

"No!" She rose up on one arm to look at him. "What we share feels good. Really good, and I'm not complaining. I know you like this new body, but I'm still not at peace with it. I doubt that I'll ever be."

He caressed the back of her head. "It's been only a few months. One way of living has died to you. It will take some time to become used to this new way of life."

"So you don't think I'm becoming too dependent on you?"

"Not at all. I think you're more vulnerable than you were -- not only physically, but emotionally, as well. You need to be gentle with yourself, give yourself more time to come to terms with everything that has changed."

"That's not an answer."

Smiling, Qui-Gon drew her into a gentle kiss. "You've been under a great deal of stress since the transformation, and life here in the Temple is very much like a fishbowl. Everyone knows what everyone else is doing, feeling, achieving, or failing to achieve. This family of ours can be both a comfort and a strain, as everyone watches everyone else constantly. They're watching you all the more, no matter what you're doing, whether or not I am with you. Perhaps it's just a little easier when you're with me."

"Yeah. They pretend not to stare when we're together," she said glumly. "They won't let me forget what's happened. Not even for a minute."

"To them, it's a miracle."

"Or a freak-out."

"Obi-Wan!"

She shrugged, unrepentant. "I'm calling it how I see it, Master. Some of them are fascinated, but others look at me like I've become some sort of freak. I'm inclined to agree with the latter most of the time."

"Padawan, they can't understand what you've been through, or the turmoil you continue to feel. You've always brought your vulnerabilities to me rather than to others, and with good reason."

"You've always known me better than I know myself," she admitted.

"Perhaps. This experience has not been easy for you, but you must know that I'm very proud of you. You're doing far better than you seem willing to give yourself credit for." Long fingers massaged lightly at the back of her neck. "Try to get some sleep, hmm? We've a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Giving a sigh, Obi-Wan settled back down beside Qui-Gon, closed her eyes, and did as he bid her. Yes, she was vulnerable. [Hell, that's brought home to me at least three ways every day.] And yes, she came to him with it. [Who else could I go to? Master Yoda? He'd make weird sympathetic noises and shake his head and there the help would stop. Master Windu? He'd invite me in for a drink and stare at me all night. Kee-Lahn? She's used to being a girl, she hasn't a clue as to what I'm feeling.]

Qui-Gon didn't understand fully, either, but at least he tried. He listened to her fears and frustrations, held her when she cried, and let her fall asleep in his arms. Sometimes she cried, and he made her climb out of bed and meditate with him. Sometimes she cried, and they went for a walk in the gardens. Sometimes she cried, and they made love. She thought that his shoulder had to be perpetually soggy from all of her tears, yet he hadn't complained. At least, not yet.

Sometimes, Obi-Wan tried to sleep in her own bed, without him. Invariably, she awoke in the middle of the night, gave a deep sigh, and headed for his room. Crawling in quietly to keep from waking her Master, she pressed back against him and went back to sleep easily. Next morning, she often awoke with his arm draped across her waist, his legs entangled with hers, and his morning erection pressing against her back. It wasn't a bad way to wake up at all.

A few days later, it was Qui-Gon's studied opinion that Obi-Wan might be ready to channel all of the restlessness she was feeling by getting out of the Temple and back into the field. Decision made, he sent a message to the Council saying that they were ready to resume working. Within the day, both were standing before the Council, looking as calm and capable as always, while Obi-Wan's heart beat too fast and too hard in her chest.

[This is the first off-planet assignment we've had since...then,] she thought. [Force, please let me know what I'm doing. Please don't let me screw this up.]

She scarcely heard a word of Master Windu's briefing. "You two will pose as partners," drifted through her frantic mind, "and seek information," on some sort of smuggling ring. [Sounds simple enough; nothing we haven't done before, right?]

Bowing automatically when Windu sat back and said, "May the Force be with you," she followed her Master from the chamber and continued on in silence out into the Temple corridors. In less than an hour they'd packed, boarded the Marauder, and were cleared to leave Coruscant.

Qui-Gon smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Do you want to take her up and out?"

Never one to refuse an invitation like that, Obi-Wan gave a huge grin. Cracking her knuckles, she ignored her Master's wince and crouched over the controls. Settling into the routine checks, she took command of the ship and felt completely at home doing it.

"Yeah, this is fine." She sighed in contentment, feeding coordinates into the navi-computer as they cleared Coruscant's atmosphere.

Leaning back in his chair, Qui-Gon was contented to hide a smile and watch his Padawan work.

 

 

Obi-Wan walked out of the 'fresher the next morning in time to see Qui-Gon slide a small gold earring through his left ear. Gone were the familiar beige robes of the Jedi Master. The familiar boots were still there, but the leggings were rougher and well-worn, as was the billow-sleeved shirt Qui-Gon had tucked in behind the belt.

"What are you doing?" Obi-Wan asked as Qui-Gon laced the shirt that revealed far too much of the Jedi Master's chest for his Padawan not to squirm.

"Getting ready to play my part in this escapade. We'll arrive in an hour. Are you ready?"

"Uh... ready for what?" She sat on the edge of the bed.

Giving a low chuckle, Qui-Gon moved across the room to dig into a trunk. "I didn't think you were listening to Mace."

Turning back, he carried a stack of clothes to his apprentice and dropped them next to her on the bed. "You'll wear this."

Pawing through the garments, she saw that they were a reasonable replica of Qui-Gon's.

"Master, what, exactly, are we posing to be?"

"Smugglers. And mates. You will call me Jinn. I will call you­"

"Kenobi?"

Qui-Gon hesitated. "I had something a bit more feminine in mind."

"Call me anything you want, just don't make me wear a dress."

The Master's laughter rang out, and Obi-Wan grinned.

"I had something a bit more subtle in mind," Qui-Gon asserted. "Would you object to my calling you Ailleacht?"

She arched an eyebrow, recognizing the word from their shared homeworld and native language. "Beauty? You can't be serious."

"Or would you rather I called you Bruid?"

"No, Master. If someone is to be the beast, it should be you."

"Ailleacht agus Bruid?" [Beauty and Beast?]

Obi-Wan nodded.

"No, I don't think so," Qui-Gon murmured, stroking her cheek. "It's a bit too... obvious."

"Yes, Master." She leaned into his hand, closing her eyes and realizing it had been a long time since she'd felt able to spar with anyone on such a casual level. It felt good to be able to do it again.

Leaning down, he stole a quick kiss. "Get dressed. Then come up to the cockpit, and I'll tell you what else you need to know."

 

 

EXCEPT FROM OBI-WAN'S JOURNAL, OR "Things you just don't put into the Council Report," entry #2195

We spent four months on Thar posing as pirates. I was very grateful for the time away from the Temple, even if we did have to live among smugglers, bounty hunters and cut-throats. None of them knew who we were -- or, more importantly, who I'd been -- and therefore underestimated us. Mostly me. Jinn, they learned very quickly not to cross. His ruthless possessiveness and protection of his mate became fodder for the gossipmongers very quickly after he leaped over three tables and very nearly cut a man's throat just for nuzzling my neck as we played cards.

Jinn refused to pay for the spilled drinks or ruined game, either. The victim of that attack departed very quickly because he'd soiled himself, all of the bets were retrieved, and the night was somewhat of a disappointment all around. And so it came to pass that no pirate dared to even glance Ailleacht's way when Jinn was with her. As for when Ailleacht was alone... Well, that's another story altogether.

I must admit that it was fun. Well, it was fun for me. Not so much fun for Qui-Gon. I learned a different sort of swagger, to flirt and bait and tease. It would have been a harmless occupation on another planet. On Thar, though, it could get a girl sold into slavery. Or worse.

Fortunately, I didn't think like a girl, even if Qui-Gon thought of me as one now.

My Master complained later that I simply would not stay where he put me, mentally or physically. I argued that I went exactly where I'd have gone and did exactly what I'd have done were I still a male Jedi. He said that was precisely the problem. The mask I showed the filthy, drooling pirate populace was ever-changing. One minute Ailleacht was all professional, no flirting, just get to the business at hand, my friend, what is it you want to smuggle where? The next, she was sidling up and cooing, telling the fattest smuggler in the business that he had great biceps and it had to be hard to keep in great shape, could she watch him next time he worked out? The next moment, you can be certain that Jinn was growling, while Ailleacht was shrugging and pouting and looking very sad that she couldn't pursue things with that adorable little smuggler.

I swear my Master and I would have been there only a month if he'd have let me do my job. And if I'd listened to all of his warnings, we'd still be there. I can't count all of the times that I called him over-protective. Of course, he called me a danger to myself. I think we were both right, but, in the end, I got what we needed and got the hell out of there in a hurry.

There was one man -- a big, burly bar-keep -- whom we were sure was in the middle of the game. He ignored Qui-Gon -- excuse me, Jinn -- from here to eternity, but he wanted me. Boy, did he ever. If he'd have drooled any more, he'd have slipped in his own spit.

Pity the feeling wasn't mutual.

Fortng back. He looked stricken, as if he'd just been forced to sever our bond rather than just a couple of feet of hair.

"Master?" I laid a hand on his arm. "Are you all right?"

His eyes said no, he wasn't, even as he nodded yes. Spooling the braid, he laid it reverently across our weapons and then closed the box. Touching a hidden mechanism, he slid the invisible compartment back into the bulkhead.

"Force... Master... Apprentice, remember?" I whispered, tightening my grip on him. "We carry it in our hearts. And we've still got our bond."

"We always will, my Padawan."

"So come on," I urged, rocking back and punching his arm. "Let's get this mission over with."

I may have swaggered off of the ship. I probably did. He says that after what I did to that bar-keep, I'm still swaggering.

He's right.

But the guy deserved it. Feel *me* up, will he? Want me to service him, did he?

His establishment was empty at mid-day because Thar's liquor is best served warm and its days are far too hot for anyone to be drinking. So there I was, all flowing curves and winks and smiles. Just there to talk, big guy. It's really lonesome without Jinn around. Yeah, he's gone and probably all day, so maybe you have something to keep me occupied?

I wanted information, and he wanted to map my body. We came to a mutual agreement in the corner of the bar. At least for little while. I let his lips do insidious things while nudging him just... a... little... by way of the Force. Mind whammy, some call it. I call it magic. And necessity.

"You want to tell me all that you know about the Bearla cartel."

"I want to tell you...."

Hey, this was a real sacrifice. I suffered through his wet, mushy lips on my neck, his greasy hands yanking at my shirt, and his rather frantic below-the-waist efforts to reach other things as well. I was doing good, though. Really good. The man was babbling and we were getting the info we needed.

Until he pulled up my shirt. Then, I got a little worried.

My panic had raced across the bond before I knew it. What was worse and thanks to my manipulations, this greasy bantha-like man had a two-track mind. His basal brain was saying, "Use her NOW," while his higher (but not much) mind was babbling everything I needed to know about the family Bearla. It was hard work, let me tell you, making sense of his words when his lips were all mooshed between my breasts.

I felt my Master's shock, first, and then his growing rage as he demanded a clearer picture of what was happening to me. I could feel Qui-Gon moving quickly through the crowd outside the bar, coming ever closer. [Just don't let him get here and break the guy's neck before I get what we came to get,] I remember thinking.

"I want to taste you," I whispered into the bantha's ear. Yanking down my shirt, I dropped between his groping hands to kneel at his feet.

Fumbling with his belt, I listened to him prattle on about the smugglers until I realized that finally -- finally! -- he had told me everything he could and was winding down. Time to get the hell out of Thar.

Qui-Gon appeared in the doorway just as I yanked down the man's drawers. The bar-keep's disappointing manhood reared up and swung toward my face.

"Not today, big guy," I muttered even as Qui-Gon closed the space between us.

Balling my fingers into a fist -- admittedly not as impressive a fist as I used to have -- I punched the guy right in the balls. His instantaneous freezing and indrawn wheezing told me that I'd hit my target dead on.

I tucked and rolled away before he could fall on me, fetching up against the back of the keep's moldering counter. A huge shadow descended on me, even as the man began a long, loud bantha wail. For one confused moment, I thought that the man himself was bearing down on me, and my arm was nearly wrenched from its socket when Qui-Gon yanked me to my feet.

"Out of here. Now." he growled, spinning me about and shoving. Hard.

I heard the bar-keep's knees hit the floor and didn't argue with my Master. I heard also the slamming of the kitchen door as his wife pelted to his rescue.

"Ooooh, Pudgie, sweet one, what's happened?"

Qui-Gon hauled me from the bar as the woman drew breath and let fly a string of epithets that I would have liked to have memorized. I don't think she was oblivious any more. My Master and I ran down the street with him in the rear ­ I suspect so that he could keep an eye on me during our escape.

[I got it!] I shouted at him gleefully through the bond.

[Yes, and you're *going* to get it as well!] he shot back, urging me to go faster as his feet practically scraped my heels.

I wasn't particularly worried.

By mutual, silent agreement we didn't return to the ramshackle room we'd called home for the past twelve weeks. Instead, we headed for the Marauder before the bar-keep could breathe again and summon help from the Bearla cartel. Ailleacht and Jinn had drifted into town; we'd streak out of it and back to Coruscant that hot summer's afternoon, and no one would be the wiser.

Qui-Gon all but shoved me up the entry ramp, slamming it closed and sprinting for the cockpit with me right behind him. We made planet-break in record time and the jump to lightspeed soon after that. No one would ever track us, not with the false destination report my Master had filed. Someone on Coruscant had already altered the Marauder's registration, so there was no way to trace the little ship or her owners.

"We're safe." I grinned, enjoying the rush as I'd not enjoyed anything for weeks.

"No thanks to you, Obi-Wan. What were you thinking of, back there?"

I shrugged. "Completing the mission. What's your problem?"

He was out of his chair instantly, pouncing like a svleki to crowd me in my chair. Nose to nose, he all but growled. "My *problem* is that you are still thinking like a man while -- like it or not -- you are encased in a more fragile body. That scene you instigated so boldly could have ended far differently. Need I paint a vulgar picture for you to realize this, my Padawan?"

"Need I remind you of the training that I've received at your hands and used with all success on past missions?" I said quietly, refusing to back down.

It was *my* body and had been *my* scene. By my own choice. Not only was I willing to take responsibility for what I'd done, I was damn proud of it, too. For the first time in months, I'd been in charge of me. That felt good, and I wanted more.

"I've gotten myself out of far worse situations without your help," I continued. "I knew exactly what I was doing. I may not have had a lightsaber, but I had about ten other options. You worry too much."

He did growl, then.

"Am I still to become a Jedi Knight?" I asked before he could begin lecturing me.

"Of course."

"That means you won't be around forever to nursemaid me?"

He was beginning to look distinctly uncomfortable. Opening his mouth, he closed it again and spoke through gritted teeth. "Padawan...."

"If you're not around, then who's left to rescue me if I'm in this body?"

Straightening, Qui-Gon leaned against the back of his pilot's chair. Narrowing his eyes, he folded his arms. "You weren't trying to prove something back there?"

"Only that I'm still capable of performing undercover, and that I can take care of myself. I may not have the same body, Master, but the brains and the training are still very much intact."

Qui-Gon blue eyes twinkled. "I'm not certain that bar-keep is."

I merely grinned. Reaching out, Qui-Gon drew me into a hug that said he was still proud of me, however much I'd scared him. I was sorry for that, but couldn't see any way around it. Neither could he, or he'd have had some choice words to make my ears burn. Perhaps he knew that he had to let go ­ and more than a little ­ if his Padawan was going to learn to survive on her own as a woman.

As for me, I was smugly satisfied with my performance. I'd done my job and our mission was complete. I'd learned something, too: brains often triumph where brawn cannot, and a great many men in the universe are oblivious of that fact. I now understood a little more of what Kee-Lahn had been trying to tell me in the locker room. I wasn't necessarily comfortable with it ­ yet ­ but I was beginning to understand it.

We made love that night, with the ship streaking through space on its way back to the Temple. This time was for us, for Qui-Gon and me, and the feelings were delicious. For the first time since my transformation, I felt comfortable with myself. I knew who I was again, and could live with the knowledge. I acted on what I felt that night, living in the moment.

We took things slow and gentle and long, exploring each other with a reverence that I've never experienced with any other lover. After my Master, I doubt seriously that I could stand anyone else touching me. Even if I were to return to being a man tomorrow, I think that would still be true.

Stretching against him and feeling our differences ­ where he was scratchy, where I was soft; where he was hard, where I was soft; where he was lean and I was not -- that was pure luxury. I ran my hands down his chest, across the rock-hard stomach and tensing thighs. I had the privilege of cradling him in my hands and knowing without a doubt that he wanted me. For the first time, it struck me what a miracle this was. I was a Padawan -- the weaker of our team ­ and he loved me. This Jedi Master, this power of Light and Force made flesh... this man whom I knew set duty above all else in his life... He ached and arched and wanted me.

On a groan, he slid deep inside of me, rocked me gently and loved me as no one else in my life ever had or ever would. In that moment, I knew peace. In that moment, I knew that Qui-Gon had made everything all right.

(Yes, there's more. But let's at least leave the guys in peace for a few nights, okay?)

 

 

Wednesday

 

Archive

Home