Category:  angst, h/c, first-time
Series:  This is the fourth story in my 'Coming to Their Senses' series.  Before this, in order, are Not on Deaf Ears, Bitter Taste of Fear, and I Will See You.
Rating:  NC-17
Pairing:   Q/O
Status:  Complete
Archive:  M_A, my site (http://www.slashcity.org/users/anafic)

Spoilers:  Only for the other stories in my series (sends readers back to read the rest of the 'Coming to Their Senses' series...)

Summary:  Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon continue to heal from the events on Trellis and in the process of rediscovering themselves, they discover one another.

Series Summary:  In Not On Deaf Ears, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were stranded on a hostile planet.  Qui-Gon was injured and Obi-Wan all but destroyed his own health attempting to keep Qui-Gon alive.  Obi-Wan collapsed just as Mace and Yoda arrived to rescue them.  In Bitter Taste of Fear, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were rescued from the planet by Mace and Yoda.  A guilt-ridden Mace faced his feelings with some insight from Yoda.  The four of them returned to Coruscant with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan in critical condition.  In I Will See You, the two were back on Coruscant, healing, and Qui-Gon had the chance to watch over and take care of Obi-Wan as his padawan took care of him on Trellis.

Feedback:  Please... When I don't hear  from anyone, I get a complex... : )

Disclaimers:  We all know who these characters belong to (Thank you, Mr. Lucas!), so there's no question as to who's getting all the credit, money, attention, etc. for these wonderful Jedi.  (Hint:  It's not me...)  Disappointing as that is, I'd just like to borrow them to tell this story...

Thank yous:  This story, as well as this entire series, is brought to you courtesy of the grand assistance of Calysta Rose.  Without Caly, there would have been no stories after 'Not on Deaf Ears' and there certainly would not be the wonderful series her ideas have become.  As she watched the first story go up, she made suggestions for another story...and then another.  She saw where it could develop into several stories, whereas I saw only one fic telling one story.  The entire series has been about a six month process and I've enjoyed every single minute of it.  Thank you, Caly, for sticking with  me and sticking with the stories, and for all your wonderful suggestions, ideas, encouragement, etc.  You are so good for me...as both a writer and a friend.

Thanks also to Robin Serrano, who stood by me during this story, giving advice in ways that improved both my story and my outlook.  She was always there and willing to read whatever I sent whenever I sent it.  A priceless quality in a beta reader.  And in between times, she found my stories their own spot on the web, through SlashCity.  Thank you Robin!

Mona, Elektra, Remba, and Kender also deserve thanks for giving the story a 'test drive' before its posting.  And BIG THANKS goes to ALL THE READERS who have written over the last several months asking if the fourth story was done...was being written...was being thought about...etc.  I am entirely amazed at the number of people who have apparently been following the series and who remembered there was to be one last story.  : )

Note:   Kerby has correctly noted that this series, while named with the five senses in mind, only contains four of the senses.  Graciously, she has already come up with a story title and an idea for a fifth fic, if I would choose to write it.  ::the mouse smiles at the dog::   I won't do it immediately, as I have another fic that's been waiting MONTHS to be written, but I'm keeping it in mind and I'm sure that between Calysta and Kerby I will have enough support and encouragement to write the story at some point.  If this sounds like something you might be interested in seeing, please feel free to write and say so.

Another note:    *    * or italics represents Qui-Gon's self-thoughts.

Obi-Wan's official release by the healers was both mentally and physically freeing for master and padawan.  Neither was fully healed, nor would they be for some time, but just knowing that they had begun to heal was enough.

/Master?/ came Obi-Wan's mental question as he walked beside Qui-Gon on the way back to their cabin.  He had been pushing himself for some time, straining to keep pace with the older Jedi's faster-moving hover chair, and while he'd given it a valiant effort, he was finding himself red-faced and panting.  And they were still so far from their quarters.

/Yes, my Obi-Wan?/ Qui-Gon answered.  The trip had been silent thus far, and Qui-Gon had attributed it to his padawan's penchance for reflection.  He had, after all, been through much these last several days.

/Can we go...a bit...slower...?/

As he turned for the first time, to see Obi-Wan standing, flushed, visibly trying to catch his breath, Qui-Gon's heart raced; he stopped the chair so quickly that he was nearly catapulted from it.

"Obi-Wan!" he said more harshly than he had meant to.  "Force! Why didn't you say something sooner?"  He reached out, but Obi-Wan was not within arm's length and did not attempt to move any closer.

Shame darkened Obi-Wan's face.  /I'm sorry, my master.  I meant to cause no trouble.  I just...I only wanted.../

Qui-Gon felt immediately guilty.  This was not all Obi-Wan's fault.  Slowly, he curtailed his panic, evened his breathing.  His hands gripped the arms of the chair, knuckles white, as he spoke quietly into his padawan's mind.

/No, Obi-Wan.  It is I who am sorry.  I was not thinking.../

/No, master,/ Obi-Wan insisted,  now leaning heavily against Qui-Gon's chair either, knowingly or unknowingly.  /I wanted...I just wanted.../

*Oh, Obi-Wan* Qui-Gon thought to himself.  *I've just gotten you back and already I'm handling this badly.*

/It seems we have a bit of readjusting to do, at least for now,/ Qui-Gon said with a smile, indicating his chair and Obi-Wan's own tired figure resting against it.

/I just...I didn't want you to think I wasn't ready for this,/ Obi-Wan said in a rush, looking at Qui-Gon with eyes that begged for understanding.  /I *am* ready, master, honestly I am.  I did not deceive the healers.  I'm just so.../

How Qui-Gon managed to move his chair in time to catch the collapsing padawan he didn't know.  As Obi-Wan's limp body fell into his waiting arms, the chair bobbed and dipped precariously.  Only by calling on the Force was Qui-Gon able to keep it upright and then to get it moving again with the extra weight it carried.

*What a sight we must make, Padawan,* Qui-Gon thought as he directed the chair through the remaining corridors.  *And you were afraid *I* would discover your weakness...Force help us if the healers hear of this...*

As he returned Obi-Wan to their quarters and slowly prepared him for bed, Qui-Gon was almost overcome by the exhaustion pouring from his padawan.  Over and over, Qui-Gon cursed his ineptitude.  How could he not have sensed that Obi-Wan was tiring?  He *knew* Obi-Wan was still weak, still vulnerable.  Why had he not seen it on the younger man's face or in his stride?  Was he so wrapped up in his own thoughts and his own injuries and recovery that he was blind to all else?

*Clearly, I am badly in need of sleep and meditation.* Qui-Gon admonished himself.

Taking another minute to watch Obi-Wan, to assure himself that what he suffered from was merely over-exertion, Qui-Gon maneuvered slowly back to his own bedroom, wishing not for the first time since he'd been a padawan, that he had a master to put him to bed.

"I can't...breathe...I can't... no...ahhh...no..."  Obi-Wan's words were punctuated with painful gasps.

"Obi-Wan, wake up.  Shhhh.  You're dreaming." Qui-Gon entered the bedroom as quickly as his healing body would allow him, and knelt at Obi-Wan's side.

In the throws of the nightmare, Obi-Wan gave a horror-filled scream, causing Qui-Gon's blood to run cold.

"Help me, Master!  Help me!  Don't let them take me!  I can heal without the bacta.  Please..."  Head thrashing side to side, Obi-Wan's braid whipped about his shoulders like a striking snake.

For the eighth time in as many hours, Qui-Gon gathered his padawan into his arms and held him tightly, murmuring reassurances.  Obi-Wan writhed in his grip.

"Don't make me go in there, Master.  I hate it.  I can't...breathe...in... there...  I.  Can't.  Breathe." Obi-Wan was panting heavily, overcome by panic.

"Yes you can, Obi-Wan.  You can," Qui-Gon assured the dreaming man.  "Just breathe, Obi-Wan.  Breathe. That's it.  You are out of the bacta, here in our quarters.  I assure you, you do not need to go back into the bacta tank."

How many times had he repeated the same phrases, offered the same reassurances this night, Qui-Gon wondered.  After all Obi-Wan had been through, it was no wonder he was having nightmares, but the strain was becoming almost as hard on the Jedi master as it was on the padawan.

"That's it."  Qui-Gon said as one of Obi-Wan's hands stopped twitching for a brief moment.  "You hear my voice.  You know I'm here with you.  You know you're safe.  Breathe now.  Easy.  Shhh..."

Terrified eyes opened at last, looking up into Qui-Gon's concerned face.

"M...m...master?"

"Yes, Obi-Wan.  You were dreaming again.  Do you remember what you were dreaming about?"  Slowly, he stroked Obi-Wan's back, his hair.

Obi-Wan shuddered, mouth closed in a tight line.  For a moment, Qui-Gon didn't think he would speak.

"I was...it was the bacta tank." He shuddered again, closing his eyes as he tried to shut the images out.  When he opened them again, his cheeks were flushed.  "I'm sorry, Master," he said.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said with surprise.  "You have nothing to apologize for..."

"I am being childish, master," Obi-Wan said, embarrassment coloring his words.  "I am no longer a three-year-old, afraid of the dark."

"No, my Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon agreed.  "You are not.  You are a young man who has had a traumatizing experience.  And as Master Yoda would no doubt tell you, 'Longer it takes to heal the soul than the body.'"

"*You* were the one who almost died down on the planet and you think *I've* been traumatized?"

Qui-Gon could not tell if his padawan spoke out in true disbelief or was merely being facetious.

"It's going to take some time," Qui-Gon told him.  "You've been through..." he stopped as he saw Obi-Wan's look.  "*We've* been through a lot," he amended.  "And it's going to take more than a few days in bacta and a good night's sleep to put things back together again."

The ghost of a smile flitted across Obi-Wan's face.  "But right now you'd settle for the good night's sleep?" he asked.

"Well, I think it's a little late for the night," Qui-Gon said with his own smile.  He indicated the skylight in Obi-Wan's ceiling that showed the beginnings of daylight filtering through.  "But we are off-duty and off-mission indefinitely...so we *could* still get some sleep, even though it is morning."

With Qui-Gon's arms still around him, holding him close, Obi-Wan almost felt as if he could sleep peacefully.  But as soon as he closed his eyes, he saw the red liquid of the bacta tank all over again, and began to shake harder than ever.

"Will you allow me to help you sleep, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asked quietly, growing concerned at his apprentice's reaction to the memories.  "I could assure that you would not be bothered by the dreams.  You could use an uninterrupted hour of sleep...or two."

"As could you," Obi-Wan said sadly.  "But..."

"But you're not comfortable with me putting you to sleep," Qui-Gon guessed.

Obi-Wan shrugged.  "I know I haven't dealt with things very well so far, but I would like to deal with them on my own.  In my own way."

Confusion infused Obi-Wan's words.  It was clear that while he felt he needed to face his fears and conquer his dreams by himself, he didn't know exactly how to go about it.

"You are certain, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked, standing up and preparing to return to his bedroom yet again.  It was difficult, but if this was what Obi-Wan felt he needed, Qui-Gon would stand back and simply observe and offer support.

"Yes, Master, I'm certain," Obi-Wan said, not sounding the least bit certain.  "Only..."

"Only what?" Qui-Gon prompted, stepping toward the bed again.

"Master...may I sleep on your floor?" Obi-Wan asked almost shyly.

"The...oh, Obi-Wan..."  The request caught Qui-Gon off-guard and he immediately regretted his reaction.  Obi-Wan would be sure to misunderstand it.

"N...never mind, Master," Obi-Wan said, turning on his side, his back to Qui-Gon.  "I understand.  I'm not three anymore.  I was just saying that."  He pulled the covers up to his ears, burrowing beneath them.  "It seems," he said softly, "That I am having a difficult time standing behind my own statements.  You're right.  I do need sleep.  Goodnight, my master."

Qui-Gon did not miss the shaky breath his padawan expelled, nor the wavering of his voice as he attempted to put on a brave front.

"Obi-Wan..." he whispered, as he sat once again at the younger man's side.  He put a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.  "Allow me to finish."  Obi-Wan did not turn, but Qui-Gon could tell he was listening.  "You may not come in and sleep on my floor," Qui-Gon told him.  "But you may come in and share my bed."

Obi-Wan's head twisted so quickly on the pillow that Qui-Gon feared he would injure his neck.  "Master?"

"Your nightmares and reactions tell me you are in desperate need of physical contact, and I find that I, too, crave your presence," he told Obi-Wan.  "And if you are going to allow me the comfort of your presence, Obi-Wan, it will not be from the floor of my room.  I will either hold you here while you sleep or hold you in my bed.  It does not matter either way to me, so long as it does not involve the floor."

Obi-Wan stared at his master in disbelief, questioning his sanity.  But he appeared to be quite sane.

"Then I choose your bed, Master," he replied, reaching for his pillow.  "Perhaps I will have more pleasant dreams there."

Qui-Gon felt his eyebrow raise at the statement, which he was sure was entirely innocent.  Alert to his moods, even now, Obi-Wan sensed his thoughts.

"No...Master..." he stammered.  "I didn't mean...I never..."  Obi-Wan fumbled with the sheets and blanket, tangling himself further as he tried to push them away.

"I know you meant nothing by it, my Padawan," Qui-Gon said, reaching down to help Obi-Wan to his feet.  He smiled as Obi-Wan took his hand only after retrieving his pillow and tucking it under one arm.  Even as a child, Obi-Wan had insisted on having his own pillow to sleep with.  Otherwise he could not be comfortable.

"Ready?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Yes, Master.  I believe I am."

After a week had passed and Obi-Wan's dreams seemed to have disappeared, he began sleeping in his own bed once again.  It was not that he didn't enjoy falling asleep in his master's strong, protective arms, or waking up feeling warm and safe.  It was more a matter of principle.  Qui-Gon had fought the healers long and hard to obtain the right to allow Obi-Wan to make his own decisions; Obi-Wan would do nothing to dishonor his master's convictions.

For several weeks, things appeared to be almost back to normal, or at least as normal as they were going to get for a while.  Each day Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon reported to the healers for counseling  and physical therapy.  Sometimes they were counseled together and sometimes they were kept apart.  The same was true for therapy.

Qui-Gon had not used the chair since the day they'd returned to their quarters.  The exercises he now practiced were to strengthen his back and legs.  Obi-Wan's exercises were set up to work him back into a training regime.  He did not perform the difficult routines and katas he had been learning with his master, rather he was given the chance to gain back his endurance and stamina by running through shorter, less complicated exercises while accompanied by the master healer.

"Ohhhh," Qui-Gon said one day after a particularly grueling therapy session.  "I know torture has been forbidden on worlds of the Republic, but I think the healers have found a way around the clause."  Leaning against the cool wall of the healing chambers, Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan finished slipping into his boots.  With a groan, the older Jedi reached around to rub his aching back.

When Obi-Wan offered him a wan smile, Qui-Gon felt immediately guilty for complaining.

"And it looks as though you haven't had it any easier," he told the younger man gently.  Obi-Wan moved slowly, deliberately, putting on his cloak.  His normally bright eyes, now dull with fatigue, disappeared into the dark smudges that spread beneath them.

"I'm fine," Obi-Wan said almost absently.  "Just..tired."

Qui-Gon got the distinct feeling his padawan had been about to say something else, but he didn't pursue it when Obi-Wan wasn't forthcoming.

"Perhaps we should request tomorrow off," Qui-Gon said instead.  "We've been pushing hard every day for a month and every day we push harder than the last.  Even Jedi have their limits.  A day away from it all would..."

"No!" came Obi-Wan's insistent reply before Qui-Gon could finish.  "Don't."

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked, confused by the emotional outburst.

"No, master, please don't do that.  I'm fine.  Really."  Spots of color stood out on his cheekbones like twin suns.

Qui-Gon stepped forward, laying the back of his hand against Obi-Wan's forehead before the other man could step away.  The skin beneath his hand fairly sizzled.

"Obi-Wan!  You're burning up!  Why did you not tell me you felt ill?"

Obi-Wan did not meet his gaze or answer his question.  Instead, he avoided him altogether as he walked in a wide path around him, heading for the door.

"Obi-Wan, stop and look at me," Qui-Gon ordered.  He saw Obi-Wan pause as the command struck a chord, but then he was moving again, out into the corridor without so much as a backward glance.

Qui-Gon growled in frustration, torn between running after his apprentice and alerting the healers.

"May I help you, Master Jinn?"  One of the healers stood beside him, a concerned look on his face.

"Yes, I..." Qui-Gon wondered what he would say, exactly.  All he had, after all, were a lot of suspicions and what appeared to be a feverish padawan.  "Who saw my apprentice this afternoon?" he asked.

"I did," came the reply.  "Why do you ask?"

"Did he give any indication that he wasn't feeling well?" Qui-Gon asked, almost fidgeting, thinking about Obi-Wan wandering the corridors alone and sick.  "Did you sense any illness within him?"

"What are you suggesting, Master Jinn?" the healer asked, immediately on alert.  "Did Obi-Wan seem ill to you when he came out of his session?"

"His cheeks looked feverish and he was hot to the touch," Qui-Gon told him.  "And he was acting odd, as if he were confused or extremely tired."

The healer looked pensive.  "Can you not sense anything through the bond you share with him?" he asked.

Now it was Qui-Gon's cheeks that turned red.  "He has been...shielding from me for the last several weeks," he admitted.  "I can sense none but the barest of emotions from him."

"Have you thought to mention this to your own healer?" came the surprised reply.

"I...did not think it was of importance to anyone but myself," Qui-Gon said.

"At the risk of violating healer/patient confidentiality," the healer said slowly.  "I've sensed the block as well.  Obi-Wan assured me it was not interfering with your bond and I did not press the issue.  It seems, now, that I should have."

"I must find him," Qui-Gon said, suddenly more worried than ever.

"Master Jinn." The voice stopped the Jedi in his tracks.  "There is something else you should know.  Obi-Wan has been going through some very difficult times in his sessions with me.  We've been discussing issues that are extremely hard for him to think about and it has not been easy for him to deal with.  I believe at least some of what you're seeing in him may be due to that."

"Why was I not informed of this?" Qui-Gon demanded.

"Healer/patient confidentiality," the healer replied.  "All patients suffer through rough days and difficult situations, Master Jinn.  I only divulge this information to you in hopes that you will understand a bit of what your apprentice has been experiencing.  I also suspect he has begun to dream again, but he assures me he has not.  Have you witnessed any more of the nightmares?"

"No...not recently," Qui-Gon told him.  "But it seems there is much I have not noticed about him recently.  I will keep alert and inform you of any changes.  Now, I must return to our quarters to tend to Obi-Wan."

Before Qui-Gon had taken three steps, an apprentice healer came running into the room.

"Master Jinn?  You've had a message from Master Windu.  He found your apprentice collapsed outside your quarters.  He has put him to bed and is staying with him until you get there.  He says for you to bring a healer."

Qui-Gon's eyes were as wide as the healer's and both were out the door with a "Thank you!  Tell him we'll be right there!" as soon as the apprentice had finished her sentence.

"What happened?" Qui-Gon demanded, bolting into his quarters and running into Obi-Wan's room.

Mace sat at Obi-Wan's side, cooling his face with a damp cloth.

"I was coming from a Council meeting," Mace told him.  "Yoda asked if I would check in on you and Obi-Wan.  When I turned the corner, Obi-Wan was down, lying just outside your door, unconscious."  The councilor's voice dropped as he remembered the unnerving sight.

Mace lifted the cloth from Obi-Wan's forehead, dipping it into the basin of water beside him.  He wrung it out and ran it over the padawan's wrists and neck before placing it back on the fevered brow.  "I don't know how long he'd been there," he admitted.  "But I brought him inside, checked his vitals, and called for you."

As Mace and Qui-Gon spoke, the healer examined Obi-Wan.

"His fever is quite high," he told them as he ran a scanner over Obi-Wan's head and chest.  "It's a wonder he's not delirious."  He shook his head.   "Other than that, I can find nothing.  There is no virus, no microorganisms, nothing to cause a fever of this magnitude.  My best guess is that he has brought it upon himself."

Qui-Gon looked appalled.  "Are you suggesting that Obi-Wan somehow gave himself this illness?  Intentionally?"

"No, not at all," the healer said quickly.  "I am merely suggesting that when an individual is stressed and agitated, failing to deal with it directly could cause something such as this.  My prescription for now is a bath accompanied by relaxing sounds or soft conversation, followed by warm compresses and a soothing herbal massage.  Do not make the water too cold and keep the air temperature in the rooms high enough to prevent Obi-Wan from being chilled.

"If his fever does not come down or if he does not regain consciousness by morning, contact me and I will re-admit him to the healing chambers."

He looked up, seeing the fear that chased across Qui-Gon's pale face.  "I really do think this problem will solve itself," he said honestly.  "I've often seen this in trauma patients.  Help Obi-Wan to relax, encourage him to talk to you.  We will begin to work with his body again when his mind is more at ease."

"Thank you," Qui-Gon acknowledged, even as he knelt beside Obi-Wan, peeling away his tunic and trousers, preparing him for the bath.

"It would also do you no harm to follow that regime yourself, Master Jinn," the healer added.

Qui-Gon turned on him, expression sour.  "And just how have you come to this conclusion, *doctor*?"

 "You are obviously physically exhausted, you have been emotionally stretched to your breaking point, and your heart has been racing since we began our conversation in the healing chambers.  If you do not exercise caution, you will be right beside your padawan, suffering with him instead of assisting him."

Qui-Gon paused, one of Obi-Wan's socks in his hand, to favor the healer with a scalding look.  "If I am in need of a healer," he said, turning back to remove Obi-Wan's other sock.  "I will consult my own.  Good day."

So obviously dismissed, the healer exchanged glances with Mace and scurried from the room.

"That wasn't very masterly of you, Qui," Mace admonished.  Without thought, he began to pick up the pieces of clothing Qui-Gon seemed to be scattering everywhere, folding them neatly and placing them on a chair by the bed.

"When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it," Qui-Gon snapped.  Immediately, he was apologetic.  "I'm sorry, Mace.  It's just that I'm so worried about Obi-Wan."

Mace smiled.  "I know," he said.  "This has been extremely hard on both of you."  The observation seemed to include the past as well as the present.

Qui-Gon stood, then bent to lift the unconscious padawan, clad only in his underclothes, into his arms.

"Thank you for taking care of him for me, Mace," he said.  "I'll keep you updated."  Turning, he headed for the bathroom and the bath.

"Am I being dismissed as well?" Mace asked as Qui-Gon disappeared from sight.  When his question was not answered, he shrugged good-naturedly.  "I'll be back to check on both of you," he said to no one in particular as he showed himself to the door.

As he sponged the tepid water over Obi-Wan, willing his temperature to go down, Qui-Gon was reminded of all the times he had done the very same thing during Obi-Wan's childhood.  As a youngster, his padawan had contracted many viruses and infections from both off-planet and from the other children in the creche.  And each time he had worked to bring his delirious, feverish padawan around, Qui-Gon had been no less frightened.

"Oh, Obi-Wan," he said softly as he wet down his padawan's hair and began to lather it with soap.  "Why can't you talk to me about this?  Am I so unreachable to you?

"I'm your master; we have been together nearly two decades.  I have seen you injured, ill, upset, angry, physically and mentally overwrought.  And we have come through all of it together.  Why not now?  What has changed?"

Carefully, Qui-Gon tipped Obi-Wan's head back, rinsing the soap away in a frothy stream.  With one last sponging, he gently lifted Obi-Wan from the tub, wrapping him in a thick towel.

As he patted his padawan dry, Qui-Gon debated leaving him unclothed; the bedsheets would be enough to warm him.  But Obi-Wan was modest, more so lately than he had ever been, and would likely be embarrassed to regain consciousness and find himself wearing nothing.  With a mental shrug, Qui-Gon managed to slip a pair of light shorts onto Obi-Wan's limp form.

Carrying Obi-Wan into his own room, Qui-Gon reconsidered and took him into his room, laying him on the much larger bed.  After settling him in, with compresses on his forehead and wrists, Qui-Gon went about the room, gathering what he would need to follow through with the healer's suggested herbal massage.

As Qui-Gon mixed the ingredients, the room filled with the combined scents of cinnamon and peppermint.  Though unusual, they had been selected by Obi-Wan himself some time ago as two of his favorites.  The combination appealed to him, and if it could bring a bit of comfort and familiarity to him now, then Qui-Gon would not choose one of his own preferences over it.

Slowly, Qui-Gon coated his hands in the shiny oil, reluctant to touch Obi-Wan lest he cause him more pain.  As he finally convinced himself to begin, the door chime sounded.  Kneeling over Obi-Wan's body, coated hands massaging his shoulders, Qui-Gon could not convince himself to leave his apprentice's side.  With a slight probe, he deduced who their visitor was, and with a thought, he ordered the door open.

Qui-Gon felt Mace approach the bedroom, felt him standing in the doorway, reluctant to enter.

"You can come in, Mace," Qui-Gon said without turning around.  Slowly, he rubbed the oil into Obi-Wan's skin, massaging his shoulders and collar bone and moving down to his chest.  The pressure from his hands and the presence of the oil made Obi-Wan look almost healthy again.  Qui-Gon shuddered at the thought.

"You are...following the healer's instructions?" Mace asked almost incredulously, taking in the tableau in front of him.

Qui-Gon shot a withering look over his shoulder.  "Are you insinuating that I would deliberately place Obi-Wan's health in jeopardy?"

Mace's hands flew up, stopping Qui-Gon's thought.  "No.  Not at all.  I was merely...making an observation."

"Did the healers send you here to...observe...me?" Qui-Gon asked, returning his attention to his task.  Slipping his hands up and down Obi-Wan's arms,  he encouraged the blood flow and circulation and concentrated on projecting waves of healing and calm.

"Not at all," Mace answered him smoothly, sitting in a chair beside the bed.  "I am here of my own accord."  Cautiously, he made an attempt at humor.  "You must admit that you are not well-known for listening to the Council...or the healers."

"But I *am* well-known for taking care of my padawan," Qui-Gon answered back in an equally smooth tone.  "Which is what I'm attempting to do here.  And you can pass along that observation to any healers or Council members you may run into."

"Qui-Gon."  Mace spoke his friend's name and waited until Qui-Gon looked up and met his eyes.  He wanted to be sure he knew that the banter was over and that his next question was entirely serious.  "How *is* he?"

Qui-Gon's gaze dropped immediately to his apprentice.  Slowly and deliberately, he took each of the ten slender fingers and massaged them.  Rubbing his thumbs tenderly over the tops of Obi-Wan's hands, he finally spoke.

"His fever is still too high.  I believe the bath helped, but he has shown no signs of regaining consciousness.  To be honest, it worries me."

"And justifiably so," Mace said.  "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Qui-Gon coated his hands with more of the oil and moved down to Obi-Wan's legs and feet.  When he was finished with everything down to the tips of Obi-Wan's toes, Qui-Gon stopped and straightened up.  A hand to Obi-Wan's head told him everything he needed to know...whether he wanted to know it or not.

"I need to get him back into the tub," Qui-Gon said urgently.  "His temperature has spiked several degrees since his last bath.  Once he cools off again, I will continue the massage on his back."

Without a word, Mace stood to help Qui-Gon carry his apprentice into the bathroom.  A nudge of the Force had the water running to fill the tub even before they arrived.  Stripping Obi-Wan of his meager item of clothing, Qui-Gon accepted Mace's assistance as they placed him into the water once again.  Unconsciously, both men wiped the sweat from their brows as the heat of the room struck them.

"You don't need to stay, you know," Qui-Gon told the other man as he began to cup the water into his hands and pour it over Obi-Wan.

"I know," came the reply.  "And if you want me to leave, I will.  I just wanted you to know you didn't have to go through this alone.  Sometimes it's easier to accept help when it's available rather than to ask for that help in the first place."

Running the water-soaked sponge along Obi-Wan's torso and extremities, Qui-Gon's thoughts turned to Mace as he had appeared in the healing chambers after their return from Trellis.  His friend had been patient, had stood by him, had stood up for him when the healers would have kept him from being with Obi-Wan.

"I know," Qui-Gon replied quietly in kind.  "And...thank you."  He could feel Mace's pleasure at the acknowledgement without having to see it on his face.

"...master...?" The small, weak voice was the equivalent of a shout to Qui-Gon's ears.

Qui-Gon dropped the sponge, gripping Obi-Wan's shoulders tightly as he stirred, unwilling to lose him to unconsciousness again.

"Obi-Wan...how are you feeling?"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes again and licked his dry lips.  "I'm...thirsty, Master," he whispered.  "And I'm hot."

All Qui-Gon needed to do was look up at Mace, and the other Jedi was on his feet.  Returning just moments later, he handed a cup of chipped ice to Qui-Gon.

"You've had us worried, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon told him, placing a piece of ice on his padawan's tongue.  "You have a high fever and have been unconscious far too long.  Master Windu found you lying outside our quarters this afternoon, following our counseling and therapy sessions.  He summoned me and I brought the healer."

Obi-Wan's eyes moved beyond Qui-Gon's face, taking in the room beyond his master, seeing Mace for the first time.

"I'm...s...sorry..." came the forlorn reply.

"You were ill, padawan," Mace told him kindly.  "I merely gave you a bit of assistance.  There is no need for apologies."

"Y..yes...Master," Obi-Wan said in resignation.

"Do you remember returning to our quarters, Obi-Wan?"  Qui-Gon asked, supporting Obi-Wan's shoulders and back as he held him upright in the water.  "Do you remember anything?"

"I...no,"  Obi-Wan said, going scarlet, suddenly seeming to recognize where he was and with whom.

"Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan shifted, moving his arms and legs in an attempt to hide himself in the clear water.

"I think your padawan is uncomfortable, Qui-Gon," Mace said, looking away from the tub and moving toward the doorway.  "Perhaps we could talk once he is more comfortably settled and attired."

Obi-Wan looked grateful as Mace made his way out.

"My apologies, Padawan," Qui-Gon said as he procured a towel, sorry to have caused Obi-Wan further suffering.  "This was necessary to try to lower your temperature..."

"Not...your fault..." Obi-Wan rasped.  Clumsily he tried to stand, mouth opening in a surprised cry as his legs buckled beneath him like a newborn bantha's.

"Let me help you," Qui-Gon said kindly, wrapping the soft green towel around Obi-Wan and Force-lifting him out of the water.

"What...happened?" came the confused question.

"To leave you so weak?" Qui-Gon guessed.  "The fever has taken a lot out of you.  I believe you were suffering from fatigue and exhaustion before and this recent illness has robbed you of any energy you may have had left."  As he spoke, he helped Obi-Wan into a sleeping shirt and shorts.

"In other words, Padawan," Mace said as Qui-Gon more or less carried Obi-Wan back into the bedroom.  "You have worked yourself into a much-needed break from therapy and counseling."

"A...break...?"

"Yes, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said gently.  "Your counselor was just telling me how hard you've been working.  And your therapist, I'm sure, would agree that your intense focus sometimes leads you to over-compensate when you feel you lack strength."

He straightened the pillows behind Obi-Wan's head and back, not knowing if he was getting through to his padawan or not.   "You do know where your limits are, Obi-Wan...you must simply learn to allow your head to listen when your body is speaking."

"A very good piece of advice for a new knight to follow," Mace said, coming to stand beside the bed.

Obi-Wan blinked and stared at the other master, then blinked again.  "A new...what...?"

Qui-Gon looked equally stunned.

Mace nodded his head, smiling as though he could not withhold the news he bore any longer.  "Yes," he said.  "That's one of the reasons I was on my way up here in the first place earlier today.  In all the excitement, I nearly forgot.

"Obi-Wan, the Council has determined that you have passed all the tests necessary to become a Jedi knight.  During your time on Trellis, you demonstrated courage in the face of adversity and a strength that kept your master alive even when it nearly meant your own death.

"You have shown that you know what it is to be a true Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and when your health permits, you shall have a knighting ceremony where you will take your rightful place in the Jedi order."

Obi-Wan paled, and for a moment Qui-Gon feared they would lose him again.  He laid a hand on Obi-Wan's arm in silent support.

"Congratulations, Padawan," he said with a smile that matched Mace's.  "This is a hard-earned accomplishment and certainly well-deserved.  My only regret is that I could not prepare you for the announcement, as I did not know of it myself until now."

Obi-Wan's eyes shifted from Qui-Gon to Mace and back again, seeking answers to his myriad questions.

"I know that look, Qui-Gon," Mace said, donning his cloak and preparing to leave.  "It's the look of almost every knight-initiate, suddenly questioning life in the Jedi and various subjects thereof."  He chuckled.  "I'll leave you to your discussion.  I must get back to Master Yoda, who no doubt thinks I have abandoned him by now."

He bowed to Obi-Wan.  "Congratulations, Padawan," he said, echoing Qui-Gon's sentiments.  "May the Force be strong with you."

When they were alone, Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon, his eyes as large and bright as the moons of Teselak.

"Do you really think it's true, Master?" he whispered.

Qui-Gon could not hold back the laughter that bubbled within him.

"Yes, Obi-Wan, I think it's true.  And it's wonderful."

"But..."

 "Do you doubt  yourself and your abilities so much?" Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan thought for a moment.  "Do *you* believe I'm ready, Master?" he asked honestly.

Now it was Qui-Gon's turn to pause as he had a sudden, vivid recollection of the conversation he'd had with Yoda as Obi-Wan had recovered in the bacta.  When Yoda had mentioned the possibility of Obi-Wan's knighting, Qui-Gon had panicked.  He had been nowhere near prepared to hear such a thing and it had caught him as off-guard as it had caught Obi-Wan just now.   A knighting meant many changes, none of which Qui-Gon had been prepared to deal with for at least another year or two.

"There are times," he told Obi-Wan.  "When the Council makes a knighting decision based on its own beliefs and observations, rather than on the recommendations of a master.  I have witnessed such decisions, but they are rare.  This is such a decision, Obi-Wan; you have the honor and privilege of being one of the chosen few.  Congratulations are in order."

Obi-Wan, tired and weak as he may have been, was not to be side-tracked.

"You didn't answer my question, Master," he said.  "Do *you* believe I am ready to become a knight?"

"Oh, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, sitting at Obi-Wan's side on the bed, breathing a heavy sigh as he did so.

'When in a corner you have trapped yourself, tell the truth you must.'  Yoda's words came back to Qui-Gon like a breeze through his mind.  He had learned the lesson from his master at the tender age of six, but Yoda had assured him he would use it many times throughout his life.

Qui-Gon inwardly shook his head.  In a corner, indeed.  The time for truth seemed to be at hand.

"Obi-Wan...in all truth, I had thought to have you under my instruction for at least two more years."

Obi-Wan's face fell.  "Then you do not believe the Council's decision to be the correct one."

"I did not say that," Qui-Gon defended.  "I was merely stating my own preconceived notions."  Bravely, he met Obi-Wan's eyes.  "But what I believe is not necessarily so."

"Master...?" Obi-Wan asked, sensing, correctly, that there was more to Qui-Gon's statement.

*What am I getting myself into?* Qui-Gon thought to himself as he prepared to lay his personal and professional future on the line.

"All masters, in one way or another," Qui-Gon began, "feel some bit of trepidation upon a padawan's knighting.  For some masters, it is knowing that they will no longer be there every moment to help or protect the padawan.  For some masters, it is the worry that they have not prepared that padawan adequately enough to live out the rest of his life.  For others it is the sadness of losing a student.

"For me..." Qui-Gon took an uneven breath, receiving a worried look from Obi-Wan.  "For me, it is the fear of losing the presence of one of the finest padawans I have ever had the honor to train...and the companionship of one of the finest men I have ever known."

Obi-Wan was stone silent and Qui-Gon feared he had scared him away with his admission.

"You..." Obi-Wan's indrawn breath was shaky.  "You..." The words would not come to him.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon apologized, feeling suddenly foolish.  "I am afraid that Master Yoda's lessons for making admissions sometimes haunt me at the most inopportune times."

Almost mindlessly, Qui-Gon busied himself with tucking the covers around the ill apprentice.  *Force!*  He should have left well enough alone!  Instead, he had taken a chance, bared his soul, and now it was clear that his padawan did not share even an inkling of his feelings.

Although it left  him feeling quite sick to his stomach, Qui-Gon noted that it would likely make Obi-Wan's knighting much simpler.  To be able to leave without feeling any sort of attachment, to move on without feeling as empty and alone as Qui-Gon knew he himself would feel, would make it much easier on the padawan.

Unable to help the stiff, unnatural way his body seemed to move, Qui-Gon finished straightening the pillows and stood, looking down at Obi-Wan, prepared to see mental discomfort, if not all-out distaste, on his face.  Instead, what he saw there was wonder.

Qui-Gon's heart skipped a beat.  *Was* it possible that Obi-Wan returned his feelings?  Could  his padawan be dreading their separation as master and apprentice as well?  Barely having considered the idea at all, Qui-Gon found it too much to think about.

"Oh, Obi-Wan," he said instead, laying a hand on the younger man's forehead.  "You are so precious to me."  The green eyes never left his face.  "Sleep, now," Qui-Gon urged.  "Rest and repair.  We will talk of this when you wake."

There was confusion on the flushed face but Obi-Wan managed a nod before closing his eyes.  With a small nudge from Qui-Gon, the padawan drifted down into sleep, fever slowly fading, wrapped inside the protective shielding of his master's mind and his master's arms.

"No, Master, no!  Don't go!  Please, Master, don't leave me!"

Qui-Gon came instantly awake to find Obi-Wan in the throes of some dream or nightmare.  Thrashing as he was, against the hold of the blankets and against Qui-Gon's hold on him, Obi-Wan was very nearly over the side of the bed before Qui-Gon managed to get to his knees above him and hold his shoulders.

"Obi-Wan!" he said, loudly enough to be heard, but softly enough not to wake the disturbed young man too suddenly.  "Obi-Wan, you're dreaming.  Wake up."

Obi-Wan's head tossed from side to side on the pillow, perspiration glistening at his temples.  "No!  I'm sorry...I didn't think...I didn't know..."  Tears leaked from the corners of the padawan's eyes, joining with the sweat and running back into Obi-Wan's fair hair.  Whether they were tears of sorrow or fever tears, Qui-Gon could only guess.

Gently, Qui-Gon soothed Obi-Wan, rubbing his shoulders and chest, brushing the dampness from his cheeks, whispering words of comfort.

"All is well, Obi-Wan, truly it is.  You have nothing to be sorry for.  Whatever is it that disturbs you so, we will talk of it and find a solution together."

As Qui-Gon reached out to stroke one hot cheek, something flooded through him, making his stomach flip-flop.   Puzzled, but too worried about his padawan to examine the feeling in depth, he momentarily wondered at the cause.  "Please, Obi-Wan, wake up."

Softly, Obi-Wan whimpered, a sound of unhappiness or discomfort, then feverish, red-rimmed eyes opened, slowly focussing on Qui-Gon.

"Yes, Obi-Wan, that's it," Qui-Gon said, relieved.  "You were dreaming.  Do you remember?"

The sudden look of horror that flashed across Obi-Wan's face answered Qui-Gon's question far more effectively than any words.

"I'll take that as a yes," Qui-Gon said with a hint of a smile, not wanting to downplay Obi-Wan's feelings or his dream, but needing to alleviate a bit of the stress.

Face going expressionless, Obi-Wan closed his eyes again.  Very aware of Qui-Gon's hands still on his shoulders, of Qui-Gon still leaning over him, Obi-Wan did the only thing he could do to avoid the man who now seemed too close to him-he turned his head away.

"Obi-Wan?"  Qui-Gon could sense the uneasiness coming from his apprentice, although Obi-Wan was still succeeding in masking its source.  In the space of time it took him to say his padawan's name, Qui-Gon made a decision.  "Obi-Wan...please look at me."

When a minute passed, and then two, Qui-Gon shifted on the bed, preparing to move away.  Perhaps now was not the time for this.  After all, Obi-Wan was still ill, still recovering, still...

"M...master?" Obi-Wan's voice was tentative.  "Qui-Gon...?"

At the sound of his name, Qui-Gon turned, and it was all he could do to keep from falling upon his padawan.  Green eyes shining, face flushed with more than fever, Obi-Wan looked like a living angel.   His apprentice had always been handsome, but lying on his back, braid tossed across the dark blue pillow covering, Obi-Wan was stunningly beautiful.

"Obi-Wan, I..."

"Master, I..."

The two men looked at each other and laughed nervously, chagrined but not surprised to have spoken at the same time.

Obi-Wan dipped his head, giving control of the conversation to Qui-Gon.

"You are gracious as always," Qui-Gon said.

Moving until he was in a sitting position, back against the bed's headboard, Qui-Gon held out his arms, inviting Obi-Wan into them.  "We need to have a talk," he said quietly.

They had often talked this way in Obi-Wan's younger years; often it had been necessary for Qui-Gon to explain why something unfortunate had happened, or to teach Obi-Wan about certain difficult things while at the same time giving him comfort or ease.  They simply had not talked like this in a very long time.

Slowly, as if reacclimating himself to the idea, Obi-Wan crawled into Qui-Gon's lap, sighing as strong arms wrapped around his chest and held on tightly.  When Qui-Gon lowered his chin, propping it comfortably atop Obi-Wan's head, among his padawan spikes, Obi-Wan could not stop the shivers that began to course through him.

"Obi-Wan..."

Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon's breath as he spoke and he could barely focus on what his master was saying.

"Obi-Wan..."

This time when his name was whispered, Obi-Wan turned to look up at the man behind him.

Unable to resist the enchantingly bewildered face before him, Qui-Gon took a steadying breath and let his mouth drop to his padawan's lips, planting a soft kiss there.

Obi-Wan's eyes closed as the kiss deepened.  When he groaned, Qui-Gon automatically pulled away.  Almost frantically, Obi-Wan reached up, placing a hand on Qui-Gon's cheek, pulling him back down.  Qui-Gon's eyes opened in surprise, but he made no protest as his lips were reclaimed.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless and panting.

"My Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon gasped as he struggled to get his breathing under control.  "I didn't dare to hope that you shared my feelings...but now I see I needn't have worried..."

"I have loved you for a very long time, my master," Obi-Wan replied, resting his head against Qui-Gon's chest.  "Not always like this, but..."

Qui-Gon stroked Obi-Wan's cheek, wondering at the mysterious workings of the Force.

 "Please, Master..."

The meaning behind Obi-Wan's pleading words was not beyond Qui-Gon's understanding, but it was all so sudden, and his apprentice was not well, had not been well for some time.  Surely they could  not risk...