"The Festival was wizard, Le'orath."

In the back seat of the speeder, eleven-year old Anakin Skywalker was wiggling in a whirlwind of excitement, his hands lifting up and down in the rushing currents of the night air, his eyes alight with the adventures of the day. As Le'orath Antilles glanced back toward the boy, in the slight illumination of the speeder panel's green glow she could see that he was almost dancing with pent-up energy.

Ah to be that young again. "Glad you enjoyed it, Anakin. I hope my family didn't bore you too much."

"No, they were nice. They kept giving me choco-menthe drops." He grinned at her with mischievous delight. "They told me that was the ummmm... the thing you cooked the best."

Le'orath just gave a soft resigned sigh. Her cousin, Tov Antilles, was a little too obvious at times. Plying the boy with sweets to get the latest gossip about her relationship with Qui-Gon Jinn. Anakin was just a child, friendly and giving but, even he would not tell a virtual stranger about his Master's business. Tov should know better. It was good of him to be concerned about her but it was really none of his affair. She would have to have a word or two or three with her cousin in the next few days and try to squelch any speculation before it got out of hand. There was, after all, nothing to tell.

Knowing that Anakin was waiting for a reply, she said, "It is indeed. People come from kilometers around for my dessert."

"I ate the ones you left behind last week. Master Qui-Gon said I could and they were really good." At that, he went back to playing with the wind. Fingers splayed wide as he tried to catch the cool breeze, he glanced at her and, then frowning, bit at his lip. "That was okay, wasn't it? I mean, you didn't want them back, did you?"

She sent him a warm smile. "No, Anakin, I didn't want them back. I brought them for you and Master Jinn. I'm just glad you liked my gift."

He squirmed happily at that and turned away, satisfied. Still vibrating with energy, his hands skimmed the air, playing as only a child could do.

A soft chuckle and Le'orath twisted back into her seat. Apparently, Anakin had forgotten her already.

She fell silent then, and stared out beyond the bright beam of speeder lights. The rushing darkness seemed to swallow the light but it was comforting in a way. She knew every tree between the town and Qui-Gon's farm and she could count the dark sentinels as they flew past. Overhead, the night was a spill of stars, prismatic light glowing with color, infinite beauty; the distant mountains were ebony in the moonsless night.

But she did not see it, refused to look at anything but the straight ahead. No extraneous entanglements of enjoying the drive back, certainly no gazing idiotically at the solemn driver. Not looking at Qui-Gon Jinn. Certainly not.

Hands clenched tight in a vain effort at remaining nonchalant, she sat there and tried to appear as if she hadn't a care in the universe. A lie but she would not be a fool again. There was nothing going on between them. There never would be. Qui-Gon had made that very clear and there was nothing more to be said. Move along, Le'orath, you idiot, move along.

And yet she dared a glance even as she was berating herself.

Qui-Gon sat there, looking straight ahead, all serious silence, obviously intent on piloting the speeder. Nothing else. Focused and seemingly unapproachable, his face was a mask of ridges and lines, etches of green and black concern captured in the glow of the speeder panel - the settled frown might well have been cast in stone. Only the gentle lift of loosened hair, caught in the currents of the night air, softened the tableau.

She did not sigh regret... although she wanted to, very much. This restraint was as much her fault as his. He had tried, after all, to bridge the bitter gap between them.

He had been ever attentive and considerate when she arrived to take them to the Festival. Inquiring after her concerns, trying to make conversation in his own grave way, she had been abrupt in return. She could see that it hurt him. Not by any obvious sign - no compressed mouth, no caustic words - but he grew more and more silent as the day progressed. If she had not agreed to take him and Anakin to the festivities, she would have cut things short and found her way home by the time midday had arrived.

But she had been trapped by her own promises and she knew she could not go back on her word.

A week ago - just before everything had gone to hell between them - she had promised that she would arrange for him to meet with select members of the Abolitionist Union. She knew that he needed her help the moment she had found out about his foolish plan.

That night, Qui-Gon had told her that he had wanted to free Anakin's mother on Tatooine and bring her back to Naboo. She had been able to talk him out of a rescue attempt - for the moment - but she had known if she didn't arrange something soon, he would have tried it anyway. She had to admit that, even so, he might have been able to pull it off. He was a former Jedi after all.

But she knew that there would be repercussions. The Abolitionists didn't want the slave hunters coming through looking around for anything unusual; they certainly didn't need to have uncomfortable questions asked. The network of safehouses and byways were well-concealed but a spotlight on the area would be a problem. And, if the attention and inquiries got bad enough, they might have had to go underground for a while and that would only make things worse for the other slaves quietly waiting to be rescued. So she had persuaded Qui-Gon to hold off until she could arrange something.

And then there was that damnable argument between them, the one that still haunted her dreams. She couldn't bear to go near him again. But she had not forgotten her promise.

It had taken a great deal of persuasion but the Abolitionists had agreed to discuss options with the farmer - with the proviso that she act as intermediary and that they do it at the Festival. After all, they trusted her. As they had pointed out, even if he was one of the Heroes of Naboo, he was a relative newcomer and liberating Tatooine slaves was still outlawed in the Republic.

She agreed, reluctantly - for Anakin's sake and her own stubborn pride.

But when the day of the celebration had arrived, she had almost backed out. Facing Jinn after she had acted like such the fool was difficult but she kept reminding herself of promises to be kept and of a child longing for his mother. And so in the end, she had no choice but to bow to the inevitable.

Luckily, the meeting between Jinn and her contacts had gone better than she had dared to hope.

She had known that there had been ways around the Republic's laws about bringing runaway slaves into Naboo space; the two agents from the Abolitionist Union and Qui-Gon had seemed to take the measure of each other almost immediately and quickly got down to business. It was obvious that they had been impressed with Jinn, his knowledge of the laws, and the calm assurance that he would do what he must in order to free Shmi Skywalker. By the time the meeting was done, most of the planning was complete. It was decided that once Jinn's next harvest came in, the rescue would proceed, hopefully without a hitch, and Anakin would have his mother back.

After the agents had left, Le'orath and Qui-Gon had gone in search of his apprentice. They had sent him off earlier to find other children from his class to play with, to have a good time and explore the festivities. Qui-Gon had quietly reminded him not to show off his Force skills. Anakin had promised faithfully and with a final nod, had scampered away, delighted to be seen as mature enough to be on his own.

The real reason for sending him away was that they both thought that Anakin should not be included in the discussions with the Abolitionists. It would not be wise to get his hopes up and then be disappointed if things went amiss. So while the more adult discussions had been taking place, Anakin had been running circles around the fair, enjoying everything he could.

When they finally caught up with him after the meeting, he was fairly bursting with excitement. It would have been almost amusing to watch Jinn deal with his exuberant apprentice but, by then, Le'orath had had enough of trying to hold in her own emotions.

Sharply, too sharply, she reminded Qui-Gon that it was getting late and that she needed to go home; since her own speeder was still at the Jinn farm, they could simply drop her off and head back to the Festival.

After all, she pointed out, they didn't need her any more.

It hurt her to say it but it did not change the reality of the situation. In the nine months since she had first met Qui-Gon, she had done everything she could to help him. She had guided him with crop choices and planting schedules, pointed out the reality of farming economics, even admonished him to reach out to his neighbors. He has listened to all her experience and acted on it with amazing results.

Even at the Festival, Qui-Gon had done beautifully. After a single round of introductions, he had charmed her friends and family. He had nodded at all the right places in the many conversations throughout the day, was attentive to everyone and invariably polite, and had made several contacts that would help him smooth his way into Naboo society.

So Le'orath had not lied. Even though she loved him, there was nothing else that she could do for him. At all.

But when she reminded him that she could no longer be of use to him, the way he looked at her was almost more than she could bear. His eyes had bruised into dull blue, tarnished, opaque. As if he were disappointed or unhappy. He said not a word, only bowed slightly, all dignity and male pride, and waved a hand in the general direction of his speeder.

Anakin had protested of course. He had been having too much fun to give up so easily but Qui-Gon brooked no argument. With one simple quelling look from his mentor, the boy had subsided. A few minutes later, they had been arrowing their way back to the farm.

And now it was almost over. She wanted to slow the speeder down somehow and prolong the moment. At the same time, she could not breathe for the despair at her own foolishness. It was not his fault that she could not deal with his.... issues of Jedi rules and Codes and personal integrity. Not his fault but hers. Damn his eyes.

She looked down to see her hands clasped tightly together. Even in the darkness, the lines of stark muscle and white bone stood out. She had not remembered doing that, not feeling the ache of flesh drawn overtight in anxiety. With deliberation, she let go, forcing herself to relax. Leaning back, she turned her face away, and stared out into the darkness. The silence between them was absolute.

As the forest began to thin and the farm came into view, the tangle of regret in her throat was almost overwhelming but she forced herself to put away her hopes, her fears, her love for this man. It was done. It was finished and all she could do would be to extricate herself as quickly as possible and leave. Hopefully without further discussion. She was not sure she would be able to take much more.

When at last they arrived and the speeder fell silent, the darkened house began to spill light into the yard, its automatic sensors spreading warmth and color, the incandescence like glittering jewelry against the velvet of the night. Even the trumpet flower vine that laced the entryway seemed to invite her in.

But she would have none of it. Gathering her courage, she turned to Qui-Gon. "Thank you for the day. I hope that you both enjoyed the Festival."

Anakin chimed in from behind her, gratitude threading his voice even as he hopped to the ground. "It was wizard." He hurriedly moved to her side and helped her out. Manners, his mother had once said, were important and thanks was often shown by deeds, not words.

Stepping back, he asked, "Ummm, Le'orath, do you think that we could do that again some time? I know... " Anakin frowned, his eyes flicking to Qui-Gon's and back again, his young face aging with worry. "I know you are busy. Master Qui-Gon is always telling me that you have better things to do than come over all the time but..."

"Anakin, that is enough."

Le'orath almost jumped at Qui-Gon's sharp rebuke. And when the boy's face fell, she tried to soften her reply. It wasn't his fault that she and his Master were at odds. "We have celebrations like that fairly frequently. You will be able to find out when the next one is by going onto the holonet or maybe asking your teacher at school."

She hesitated, refusing to look at anyone but Anakin but she could feel the intense gaze of one former Jedi scorching her. Trying to keep the misery from coloring her words, she said, "I'm sure Master Qui-Gon will be able to take you to some of them. It would be good for both of you to get out more. But I.... I may be busy for quite some time."

The disappointment in the child's voice was kilometers deep. "Oh, I understand." And, of course, he did not.

Neither did Le'orath but she could not stand to see Anakin pay for her own foolishness. "Perhaps, after school, when I'm in town, we could meet over dessert. I know a candy shop that specializes in chocolate and other treats. If Master Jinn doesn't mind, we could share a choco-menthe or two. Just you and me, Anakin."

At that, the boy's eyes began to gleam in anticipation. He twisted to ask, "Can I, Master? I promise I won't bother Le'orath too much, but can I?"

"Mistress Antilles is kindness itself." Qui-Gon's sarcasm was not lost on her but, instead of getting angry at him, she only dove deeper into despair. After all, she had, in essence, told him that she wouldn't be coming back again, that this was the last time they would be together. That she wanted nothing more to do with him. But oh, how she wished it could be otherwise.

Poor Anakin's confusion, however, only seemed to intensify, "Does that mean I can go?"

Le'orath looked away, into the night. She had to distance herself from this conversation and quickly, before her throat yielded up the tears that were caught there. Even now, her vision had begun to blur.

"Yes, Anakin, you may go when Mistress Antilles has time for you." Qui-Gon's voice seemed to rumble resignation but, surely, it could only be her imagination. "But you must not push. It must be up to her."

Anakin tugged at her sleeve. Blinking furiously, Le'orath tried to smile down at his hopeful face but she really needed to get away. Now, before she made a fool of herself. "Anakin, it's fine. I will see what my schedule is and leave you a message. I think I have some time on the fourth and you and I can meet then. But I will have to confirm."

Giving Anakin's shoulder a friendly squeeze, she began to move toward her speeder. "I must get home now. I'm glad you had fun at the Festival, Anakin, and I'll see you soon."

But another hand, one much larger and more beloved, stopped her. She froze, trying not to tremble with fear, love, confusion and dread at the strong fingertips holding her captive. A few moments of sinking into the absurd notion that he would beg her to stay, that he would want her, that he needed her, that he could love her, and then she shook herself free of such fantasies. This reality would yield nothing to her but pain, no matter how much she would wish it otherwise.

But Le'orath could not help but gaze upward, trying and failing to see him without loving him all over again. He stood above her, his clouded eyes full of unasked questions. The light from the house had cast both brilliant illumination and deep shadows across the lawn and his face was half caught in night's dark. His skin seemed etched in furrows of ivory and charcoal, the cutting frown speaking more clearly than words his displeasure or perhaps his confusion. Or his longing.

"Don't go, Le'orath. Not until this is settled between us."

But she shook her head furiously and looked away, into the overhead sky. At least the stars were blazing in joyous abandon. But all she felt was bewilderment and the icy chill of denial. Better to be a star without emotion than this. "There is nothing to settle. I have things to do and clients to see in the morning. If you need to consult me, do so. Tomorrow."

He dropped his hand as if scalded. Blinking in surprise, he stepped back into the shadows and stared at her, his eyes gleaming hurt.

Shaking her head, she started to stalk towards her speeder, rushing to get away from that man before she said something or did something that she would regret more than she already had. Anakin trotted next to her, tugging at her sleeve, "Le'orath, are you mad at Master Qui-Gon?"

That stopped her cold. She couldn't ignore the worry in the boy's voice or the way his eyes kept flicking towards Jinn. Better to answer the innocent one in all this and then get away as quickly as she could. "No, Anakin, why do you ask?"

"Because.... you feel upset. You don't look at him either. Is it something I did?"

The question shocked her out of her own sorrow. She watched as the boy bit on his lip and looked down, thoroughly miserable. The boy did not deserve this, to accept guilt when he was blameless. "No, Anakin, never think that."

"I guess I don't understand then." Blue eyes stared up and silently begged for a reason to believe her.

Le'orath took a deep breath, and knelt down on one knee, her face even with the young apprentice. He deserved an explanation, even if she did not know just how to explain the problems of her heart. But a child did not need lengthy discussion, only reassurance. "It's between your Master and me, Anakin. It has nothing to do with you."

"But I thought.. I thought you liked him." Confusion stirred in the night air.

Such simple words spoken from a bewildered child. And yet the man beside him remained silent, watching her struggle to find the answer to her heart's own question, waiting for her reply. She steadied her voice and said, "I do like him, Anakin, but sometimes things happen and adults have disagreements."

Looking sideways at his Master for an instant, he asked hesitantly, "Did Master Qui-Gon do something?"

She smoothed Anakin's unruly hair, softness in her hand and then grasping his shoulder, gave him a gentle shake. "No, he didn't do anything. It's just..."

Frowning only more confusion, he said abruptly, "But I thought you were going to marry him."

If anything, she had not expected that. Her "What?" was the merest whisper and she leaned backward, astounded and unbelieving, one hand on the pathway, steadying her, grounding her with shards of gravel under her palm. She stared at the boy in astonishment.

But in the same moment, beside them both, Qui-Gon shifted abruptly, his voice loud with reproach. "Anakin, enough." He sounded thoroughly dismayed but, underneath it all, there was just a touch of entreaty.

The boy's misery deepened and he backed up, looking at his Master from lowered lashes. "Sorry, Le'orath. I just... sorry."

She stood up, brushing off her hand carefully. Some of the walk's smaller stones had been sharp enough to bruise. Soothing out the prickles of pain, she ignored her own hurt for Anakin's. She could only reassure him, "It's all right. You startled me, that's all. Why would you think that I and Master Jinn would get married?"

She had thought that he might have misinterpreted some discussion, seen something not meant for youngling's eyes but, surprisingly, it was for quite a different reason. "I had a dream that you were going to."

"Oh." She would have chuckled at that if the situation were different. If only Jinn wasn't standing over them both with thunder in his eyes. Ignoring him, she said, "Anakin, dreams are often all mixed up and they very rarely mean what you think. Perhaps you are confused about this."

Qui-Gon started to interrupt but Anakin was already trying to prove that these were more than just wishful thinking. "But my dreams always come true. Before Master Qui-Gon came to Tatooine, I dreamt that I was going to win the Boonta eve race and become his apprentice. "

"Anakin ..."

The unmistakable warning in Jinn's voice should have been enough to stop them both but she only wanted to reassure the boy. She would deal with Qui-Gon's unwarranted annoyance later. "I know those things came true but it was just a coincidence that you dreamed about them."

The young apprentice shook his head. He needed Le'orath to understand that his dreams were not like other people's nighttime fantasies - that they were as real as the rocks under their feet. "Master says that there is no coincidence. I know what I know... even though I..."

As Anakin's words drifted away into unhappy silence, Qui-Gon put one large hand on the boy's shoulder, reassurance and caution in a single touch. His face was still in shadow but Le'orath could see the stony look he sent her. The boy was not the one he was angry with, of that she was very certain.

"Anakin, you should not be discussing your visions with outsiders. They might not understand." The clipped tones brooked no argument.

The young one was all contrition. "Sorry, Master." He looked down, scuffing the dirt with the toe of one boot. The excitement of the day's events was now thoroughly gone and he looked both tired and unhappy.

Qui-Gon gentled his reply, the compassion for his student plainly overriding his annoyance at Le'orath. He brushed Anakin's hair in affection, much as she had done earlier and then cupped the downy cheek. "Sometimes, people react badly to Jedi gifts, especially to visions. You must be careful when sharing these." He hurried on when Anakin looked as if he had more questions. "We will discuss this further in the morning. For now, it is time for you to get ready for bed. I will be in shortly."

Still unhappy that he had angered his mentor, Anakin murmured, "Yes, Master." He sent a half-guilty look towards her and then a little bow that would have been adorable under other circumstances but now only made her more furious. "Good night, Le'orath."

Gently, she replied, "Good night, Anakin. Sleep well." but he had already turned away. Shoulders slumped, boots dragging in the gravel walkway, he trudged back to the house and disappeared inside.

Le'orath watched in silence, making sure the boy was far into the house and out of earshot, before turning on Jinn. Her head hurt with the frown that spread across her face like scars and her hands ached with outrage. She wanted to throttle the man.

"What was that all about?" If she had not been so furious, she might have seen the pain lingering in his eyes.

He stood there, tall and silent, almost overpowering in his rigid stance, with arms locked across his chest and a face stoic as stone - looking at her as if she had been judged and found wanting, as if he didn't know her at all. Finally, he said flatly, "It is none of your concern."

Le'orath growled back, "Yes, it is. I am not some outsider that you can shove aside with one wave of your hand." She thrust her head forward, glaring at him. And though she would deny it, she had unconsciously imitated his stance, daring him to disagree with her. An immovable object against an unstoppable force.

"You have chosen to be so." His voice was as cold as the darkness between galaxies. "I will deal with his visions in my own way, without interference."

Her mind went blank for a moment, unbelieving that he could think so little of her as to say such a thing. She thought furiously, Chosen to be an outsider? No, not chosen. Forced to be one. Her suns-core anger headed towards nova status. "Deal with it... Why? Is it another Jedi thing that I wouldn't understand?"

The interstellar frost of his glare slithered down her spine. "Exactly so. A Jedi thing. And if you were going to continue to return here, I might have discussed it with you. As it is..."

And in that instant, it became blindingly clear that she hardly knew him. All these months of friendship, sharing concern and laughter over the smallest things, the love and longing she had for this strange, wonderful man was for nothing. She was nothing to him. "That's low, Qui-Gon. What is between us shouldn't affect Anakin."

"As you have said, there is nothing between us."

Her heart stopped beating; she could not believe that he was blaming her for this debacle. "You think this is my idea?" Then her fury gathered strength, edging towards critical. "You were the one with problems about attachment, not me. You were the one that couldn't stand to have me close to you. You were the one...."

"Le'orath, stop." The words were curt, almost a command and suddenly she could take no more.

The rage rippled across her like the burst of a supernova, all radiation, heat and devastation. She stalked forward, then stopped almost within a hair's breadth of running him down, staring up into his startled eyes. Fingers sharp with fury pushed at him. "Listen, Master Jedi, I did stop. You said that you could not be what I wanted you to be. I accepted it. I didn't like it but I accepted that it was what you wanted. And I've been trying to deal with it ever since. In the only way I can. But now, you say it's my fault. For all of it. Well, you can take your Jedi training and your Jedi arts and your Jedi excuses for not living in the real world and ....."

"Please, Le'orath, don't do this." She had expected a blistering retort, not this soft rebuke. Startled, still half confused in the sunstorm of love and anger beating in her heart, she stopped for a moment, blinking.

Then she looked at him, really looked at him. What she saw was not what she had expected, not the stern taskmaster glaring at her with distaste, not the horrified man staring at some fool as if she were a demented harridan bent on destruction, but the compassionate Jedi Master. In the darkness, she could almost see the pity gleaming in his eyes.

It was then that her anger leached out and she was left with nothing but unshed tears. Staggering back, her hand came up, covering her mouth in regret and the desperate realization that she would be ever alone. And she still loved him.

Whispering "I've had enough", she twisted aside, trying to leave before she made herself more a fool. She couldn't face him again, not like this.

But he caught her before she could go two steps. One large hand pulled her close and he rumbled concern into her ear. "Le'orath, running away is not the answer."

She was breathing hard, looking down at the hand now holding her captive. Exhausted and sick at heart, she murmured, "Why not?"

His arm was suddenly around her, and he was whispering into her hair, "Because it solves nothing. Because you have to face your fears if you are going to overcome them."

She leaned in and laid her cheek against his broad chest. She could hear his heart beating, a sound that might have been comforting if she allowed it. Quietly, with a calm borne of resignation, she asked, "Have you? Have you faced that you will never go back to the Jedi? That what you have here, now, could be good and right? Or are you going to throw it all away for something that will never be?"

He sounded injured. "Apparently, there are many things I need to face. And I need you to help me face them. Come inside. Talk to me. Let us come to some understanding."

Le'orath protested halfheartedly, "It won't do any good, you know."

"Come inside."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She didn't remember going into the house and being guided to the sofa in the front room. She didn't remember him draping her shawl about her shoulders and asking if she would like something to drink. The tea just seemed to magically appear, hot and delicious and just as she liked it. He knew her well, better than she had thought, after all this.

She didn't even remember him sitting next to her, patiently waiting for her to speak.

Finally, when the last of the tea was gone, she stared into the cup and said quietly, "When I was a little girl, I loved to play Jedi Knights with my friends. There is a old abandoned school not far from here, perfect for hiding and fighting off pirates and generally causing mayhem among the kids in the area. We would often have great battles there, with the wildness only children could bring. And I... I would always be the good one, the Jedi Knight who would rescue the helpless, destroy evil doers and make sure that all was right in the end. Childish dreams. I had no idea of what a Jedi actually did, what they had to go through."

Qui-Gon gently lifted the cup out of her lax fingertips and put it aside. Twisting slightly to close the distance between them, one larger hand on her shoulder, the other resting lightly on her own, he rumbled soft and low, "Le', I know that it is hard to understand."

Le'orath hunched inward, stiffening as she tried to keep from leaning into his touch. But she could still feel the heat of his skin through her tunic; his face was so near hers that she had merely to turn her head and they would be sharing the very air. So she did not turn.

Staring out into the room, seeing nothing, she explained, "Qui-Gon, after I first met you, I researched the Jedi. Found out a lot of things. Perhaps more than I..." She shrugged. The silent lift of her shoulders spoke more clearly than words. In all those months, she had studied, read tomes and essays, followed exploits and speculation, trying to understand him and it was only now that she realized she had understood nothing at all. Resigned misery in her voice, she said, "It's just that I thought you could learn to live outside those rules. That once the Jedi had abandoned you, you could move on."

"You seem to have more faith in my abilities than I do." He seemed puzzled, the questions lurking behind his words.

Le'orath twisted around then, leaning back a little so that she could look clearly into his eyes. She was fierce with determination. "I believe that if you truly wanted it, you could do almost anything." Seeing the doubt stumbling across his face, she bit her lip and, blinking furiously, looked down to stare at his hand warming hers.

"But you have to want it first. And that may be the problem."

Green eyes flew up to meet his opaque stare and she didn't turn from him, just lifted her other hand slowly up to smooth his beard, following the jaw line toward his mouth, just one light caress, before her fingertips pulled away in uncertainty, waiting for a sign that didn't come. One heartbeat later, with a nonchalance that fooled no one, she curled her palm downward into her lap and looked back out into the dimly lit room.

Half to herself, Le'orath murmured, "From everything I've read, the Jedi are seen as distant, almost droidlike in their impersonal approach to others. No love, no possessions, no feelings beyond a remote compassion. And that only confused me more. That cool indifference to joy, to everything that gives life meaning. I wonder that a Jedi could even be a part of the universe or were they merely moving through it like ghosts in the mist."

Qui-Gon's voice was as lifeless as stone. "Jedi are taught almost from birth that intensity of any emotion is to be avoided. Serenity, peace, compassion, selfless service - these are the ideals that Jedi seek. Anything else might lead to the dark."

"Then I truly do not understand." She gave her head a little shake and frowned puzzlement down at her hands. "You were a Jedi Master for many years, a Jedi honored for his work." A sideways glance and for a moment, her mouth pulled up into a rueful smile. "Don't bother to deny it. I've read what little there was available to outsiders. And yet... " Then the lines on her face deepened back into thoughtful furrows of perplexity.

"You are a very confusing man, Qui-Gon Jinn. A contradiction in terms. A former Jedi and yet one of the most passionate men I've ever met."

He stiffened at that, pulling back and growling out a concerned, "L'eorath..."

She waved off his distress. After all, she thought, a Jedi would never admit to weakness. Or strength. And this was a strength in him if he would only see it. "Qui-Gon, I am not talking about last week. You were clear enough about our... relationship. This has nothing to do with physical desire, mine or yours."

Suddenly, her fists were tangled in his sleeves, the blue cloth supple under her palm, almost alive and so warm. She was holding him captive with the heat of her argument. "You are passionate about a great many things." He looked at her as if she had lost her mind, or perhaps he was uncomfortable at just how well she knew what he had denied to himself. She wasn't sure.

But as Qui-Gon was about to object, Le'orath pressed on, determination in her touch and in her voice. "Oh, I know you try to hide it but I've seen.... you feel things deeply, too deeply sometimes. Your struggle with it."

As that stoic Jedi facade of his solidified before her eyes, she let go. A soft sigh, she could feel his automatic denial but even as she drew back, her fingertips were still trying to grasp at the fabric, "I would help you if I could, if you would just let me in."

Resolute, stubborn but with just the barest undernote of entreaty, he said, "You can't help. It is not something that can be shared."

"It is said that a burden shared is a burden halved." She pointed out gently. He could be so obstinate sometimes and she loved him the more for it.

"Not for a Jedi."

Even as he said the words, he was shaking his head, turning away and focusing on some distant place that she could not go. And though she was sitting right next to him, she felt completely alone, and helpless to pierce the durasteel walls he was still building around himself.

But Le'orath would have none of it. Her anger flared up in a sudden bubble of sun-hot plasma. In utter frustration, she growled out, "Damn it, Qui-Gon. You're not a Jedi any more."

"I know." He said it automatically, as if he only spoke to appease her, not that it was truth. She could almost hear that infuriating I will always be a Jedi staining the air. But she would not have it. He'd asked her to help him face things and she would be damned for all eternity if she didn't try.

Le'orath grabbed at his sleeve again, jerking him around with both hands. Hot and brimming with sarcastic disdain, she gritted her teeth, "Listen to me." Her tone rose with the frustration of trying to make him see, now, before it was too late. "No, I don't think you do. You've been floating around, morose and wounded for months. It is time to move on. Time to live here and now, not in some past that you cannot change."

He blinked at her, his blue eyes brilliant in the dim light. He had pulled back from that far-off shore and, though it seemed to age him, at least he was with her again. Here and now.

He said, firmly, decidedly, "I know." And meant it.

She wanted to say something else, to reassure him that it would be alright but she could not. It was up to him and him alone whether he would repair the hurts that had shackled him. She only hoped it would be enough. He should be flying on the wind of the now, free and joyous, not chained to the past and his bottomless regret.

"I miss my former life. Very much. And if I had the choice, I would go back to the Temple. Even now, with the farm working well and the relative freedom to do what I want, still I would go back."

The siren-longing in his voice made her ache to soothe away his sorrow. But all she could do was stroke his arm, softly, softly and listen to his grief. She knew the ending of this story. He had no choice. They would never allow him to return; he had to come to terms with it.

"I never was the perfect Jedi. More than once I was labeled rogue and punished for defying the Code. For following the will of the Force rather than the Council's orders. For doing the right thing. But... although it was a hard life, it was very rewarding."

"Was it? Even without attachment or love?" Silence fell between them, dread-heavy, shuddering with memories and hidden regret. He shrunk away from her a little, her hands following, the silky fabric still catching in her fingertips, "Qui-Gon?"

It was impossible but he looked almost guilty. And she stopped breathing when he said, "I was never the perfect Jedi."

Le'orath's throat was raw with surprise. In a thousand years, she had not expected this. It was forbidden, a bedrock taboo by all the Codes and every law of the Order. Something that he would never be allowed to do and remain a Jedi. And after all his protestation, she could only whisper, "You... loved someone?"

He nodded, the silver-threaded curtain of hair falling forward, shadowing his face in the subdued dark of the room. He refused to look at her. Instead he stared down at his hands, tendons ashen-white with remembrance, the knuckles stark against skin pulled tight, the stiff fingers splayed over his knees. She could barely see his mouth grinding out the explanation of his secret life among the Jedi.

"Her name was Tahl... she was a Jedi from my crèche. We had only just realized how much we meant to each other when she was killed." An ordinary tone, school-master lesson as he glided from guilt into explanation. "The Jedi Order may have rules that you consider to be unacceptable but there is a reason for them."

Then his rasp deepened back into night, smoky-dark and filled with shame. He sounded very alone.

"When she died.... it was a dark time for me. I wanted revenge and that is not the Jedi way. When I caught up with her killer, I very nearly murdered him. If not for Obi-Wan, I would not have survived it." The warm memory of his old apprentice briefly colored the room with affection before the shadows returned. And then he looked away, confessing, "I'm not very proud of that period in my life."

After all this time, Le'orath had thought she knew him. Instead the damnable day had brought in one unwelcome revelation after another, like stun-bolts or fine cuts on skin that grew deeper as she twisted and turned and bled to death. This one, above all the other discoveries, would tear her apart if she would let it. Later, she promised herself, later when she was alone, she would deal with the rejection and her measureless stupidity.

She tried to keep the gutted pain out of her voice, without much success. "You must have loved her very much."

"Yes." Confirmation, verification, and end point. She could not breath again.

"I see... " But Le'orath could not seem to stop talking, could not stop asking questions that she knew, without a doubt, she did not want answered. Because she wasn't sure if she had enough courage to hear his reply. "So it is not that you cannot love but that you cannot ever consider loving me."

Qui-Gon's eyes were still wide with remembered pain, but annoyance painted his voice as he turned toward her, saying, "Don't be a fool."

"Apparently I already am." A vibration in the air, low notes of curious sound that were spoken not to him but to herself. Wondering how she could have been so blind, how she could have ever thought that they...

She stood up abruptly, gazing at the door, thinking of how to escape this without further complications or revelations or wherever this damnable conversation would lead her. It was time for her to leave.

But even as she took the first blind step away from Qui-Gon, he caught her wrist and held her captive. Jerking automatically at his prisoning hand, she sent him a glare but it did no good. It appeared that he was not letting her go just yet. Not until this was settled between them.

"Le'orath, you are a vibrant, exciting woman and any man would be blind not to desire you." Husky and low, his voice seemed to mesmerize her. She stood there trembling, skin still against skin; she could feel her pulse throbbing angry, confused, frustrated under his palm. She didn't know what to feel any more. It was as if she were stretched tight as a wire and it was thinning quickly under the strain.

And then he was standing next to her, still holding her captive, fingertips stroking the softness of her cheek, apology in his touch. "But I am not just any man. I'm a Jedi." He looked away for a moment, frown telling of remembrances and long-ago remorse. "And it is difficult to overcome the training of decades."

"You did for her." She pointed out, trying not to feel the hurt bubbling beneath her skin.

He stilled at that, his leonine face aging into guilt and the painful memory of darkside choices. Stepping back, he let her go and barricaded himself with folded arms, a back stiff with obstruction. He spoke again in tones of flat durasteel walls.

"She died in my arms, murdered by beings who hated the Jedi. I almost turned because of it."

There was such desolation behind the clipped words that, for a moment, Le'orath could not breath again. He had been so hurt in his life; hers was a sunlit walk in paradise beside his dark past. She could not even begin to comprehend how he could cope with all the rejection, the pain, the loss. But she must help him accept that it had happened and move on. He was still living in the past; he needed to live in the now.

"So your solution is to isolate yourself. Cut off from everyone and everything. Qui-Gon, she would not want you to be alone any more than I do. "

He stepped back, turning away to look down at the vase filled with white Alderaanian roses, her favorite. One petal had already fallen and he picked it up, smoothing its silken folds with his fingertips. It glowed in his hand. He said, "I am not alone. I have Anakin and I have the Force."

Le'orath followed him and watched as he let the petal go. The bloom's ivory color seemed to float, swaying ever so slowly to the floor. "That's it then. That's all you want?"

Qui-Gon shook his head, frowning down at the white froth of flowers. "No, it is not what I want but I have to consider the consequences. You could be put in danger because of me, especially if you became more than just a friend."

Trying not to sound discouraged, for she knew how stubborn he could be when he had decided on a course of action, she said, "Don't I have any say in this?"

"You have no idea of the kind of people I've dealt with. Some of them are ruthless, pitiless and persistent. They would think nothing of slitting your throat and laughing as you died, suffocating in your own blood."

Le'orath stopped for a moment as what he had said sunk into her heart. Such pain, such terror and he was not afraid for himself but for her and the people around him. He wouldn't even admit that it was his own fear that shaped his life, made him choose pathways that had led him into isolation. She had to make him see it - for his sake - because only then would he be able to move beyond it.

Standing in front of him and looking directly into those brilliant blue eyes, now so clouded with doubt, she said, "Qui-Gon, listen to me. There is danger in living every day. My husband died living his life. You say that I would be in danger being around you. I could just as easily die from being run over by a speeder or bitten by a hillviper or tripping and breaking my neck."

He started to step back but then stilled, saying nothing as her fingertips drew up to lightly stroke his cheek, gently, gently. But he watched her face as she murmured. "You have asked me to help you face things. Then face them. You have bottled up your fear and used it as an excuse to hide away. You did it on Coruscant and you are still doing it here."

"You are mistaken." Voice harsh with denial but he didn't move away.

Now she cupped his face, her hands filled with warmth and love and longing. His beard was soft silk under her touch but she could feel his jaw clenching with some hidden pain. His eyes, too, were dark and unsure. "Am I mistaken? Then what other reason did you have for losing yourself after being thrown out of the Jedi? Why else do you refuse to visit your neighbors and reach out to those around you? You're afraid. Of me and of yourself."

She would not let him back away and so she held him captive with her, small fingers sliding down to settle over his heart. It was beating there, fast and steady and so very Qui-Gon Jinn. "And you hide behind your time and your farm and Anakin and try not to let anyone near you. Even me."

"Especially you." His low rumble was half whispering in wonder.

"Let me help you face your fears." He started to deny it, it could never be said that Qui-Gon was anything but stubborn, but he was also perceptive enough to realize that she might be right. He stood there listening to her concern. "We can start slow - no commitments, no expectations. Just one moment at a time."

Jade eyes pleading with his. "Please, Qui-Gon, you need to do this. I need to do this. Let me help you."

He said nothing for a moment, then took one small hand in his and, lowering his head for just a moment, kissed her callused palm. She could feel his wry smile feathering her skin, the light of it just touching his face before he turned everything back into a worried frown, "You have the same bright spirit, the same fierce determination. Tahl would always make me face my failings and I was a better Jedi..." She scowled at him and he relented with a shrug, "A better man for it."

He pulled her closer, large hand brushing at her bright tangled hair, his fingers playing lightly with the softness of her cheek. In a puzzled, amazed voice, he murmured, "You have become very... important to me, Le'orath, more than I want to admit, more than I think is wise. If I allow this and it goes wrong somehow, I'm not sure I could...."

"Then we will make sure that it does not go wrong." She was fierce and sure.

He let out a brief huff of air, "You can't promise that."

Smiling, she said, "No, but I can promise to try to make it go right."

"You are a very stubborn woman, Le'orath Antilles." And he matched her smile with his own.

"Yes, I am."

With that, he bent down and kissed her, softly, gently, a merest brush of lips against willing mouth. Her hands were trapped in the space between their bodies and she could not get free enough to begin to explore this new territory. But he was kissing her and it didn't matter. One strong arm was behind her back, pulling her closer and, with his free hand, callused and rough, he feathered touch across her cheek. Held tight, feeling his heartbeat beneath her captive hands, she tried to dive into him. She couldn't breath for the joy but she was still trapped and she wanted more. With a muffled protest, she moved slightly, trying to get a better angle. After all, he was a bit taller than she and it would have been better on the sofa and so she started to push him backwards.

And the moment turned once more as suddenly a young voice pipped up.

"Master, are you done yet? I need your help with the vid program you set up this morning."

The adults sprang apart, as if the swarm of stingers had entered the room or perhaps one small curious boy.

Qui-Gon was all business. Catching his breath, trying to cool his ardor before his charge noticed, with a gruff and very authoritarian stare, he said, "Anakin Skywalker, you are supposed to be asleep."

But the child just shrugged, as all children do when they are tired but not yet sleepy. "Couldn't sleep with all the noise." He looked from Qui-Gon to Le'orath and back again, puzzled. It was clear to the boy that something was going on, "Ummmm, Master, are you marrying Le'orath now?"

Qui-Gon tried not to cough in surprise and Le'orath had to hide her smile behind her hand. But the innocent eyes were not that naive. The boy was staring at her as she pulled her tunic straight and tidied her hair.

He was in full Master mode when he said sternly, "No, Anakin. We are merely discussing adult things that are none of your business. And you should not be listening to other people's conversations without permission."

Anakin bowed his head in acceptance of the rebuke. But his blue eyes were lighting up with excitement as he took in the scene, "Sorry. I was just... it would be wizard if you did. Then Le'orath could come and live here." But when Qui-Gon scowled at him, the boy just bit his lip and shot a look at her, "And, ummmm, you'd be less..."

Le'orath couldn't help herself. "Grumpy?"

And almost laughed aloud when Qui-Gon turned to her, frowning mightily and protested with a little too much vigor, "I am not grumpy."

She shook her head, smiling, light-hearted as she had not been for many days. With a quick wink at Anakin, she leaned forward and linking her arm with the man she loved, she said, "I think Grumpy here would like me to make him some choco-menthe drops. Would you like to help, Anakin?"

The boy looked from Le'orath to his Master and back again, his smile broadening with each passing second. Finally, with a grin as brilliant as Tatooine's binary suns, Anakin said, "Wizard."

And so it was.

The end.