Title: The Trouble With Padawans
By: Iaga
Rated: NC-17
Series: Knight Moves
Pairing: OW/Maul, QG/OFC
Summary: Obi-Wan discovers a way to interfere with Qui-Gon's
personal life--and the Jedi Master interferes right back.
Category: AU, Humor, slight Angst
Archive: Sith Chicks, All Maul, my site
http://www.angelfire.com/scifi/theglobe
Disclaimers: The characters and concepts are copyrighted by
Lucasfilm; I'm just having a little non-profit fun.
Feedback: Is always welcome! Iaga@cliffhanger.com
Notes: This is a lighter piece intended to act as a nice break
from all the heavy emotional angst of the previous two stories;
there's a little bit of angst, but not much.

Muse of Fire site:
http://www.angelfire.com/scifi/theglobe
Knight Moves mailing list:
http://www.egroups.com/group/Knight-Moves

Nodding with satisfaction, Qui-Gon saved the confirmations he had
just received from the restaurant and the theater and opened his
calendar to record a reminder.

"Dinner tonight at Indiscretions. Evening performance of A
Mid-Winter's Tale at The Sphere tomorrow night," he dictated,
adding the times as an afterthought although he didn't really
think he'd forget, and two seconds later, a modulated female
voice informed him that the notation was complete; he nodded
again, pleased with himself for arranging things at such short
notice.

Even though the performance was the very next night, he had still
managed to reserve excellent seats for himself and Maede.
Thankfully, neither Obi-Wan nor Maul would be interested in the
play. Obi-Wan preferred more lively entertainment, and he and
Qui-Gon both were still trying to convince Maul such things
weren't a complete waste of time. Sidious had indoctrinated Maul
to believe any pursuit that didn't further one's knowledge or
training was useless, and Maul was still having a difficult time
accepting theatrical performances as a valid leisure-time
activity. That was part of the reason why Qui-Gon had chosen the
play: not only would he and Maede enjoy the performance, but it
would also allow them some time together alone, a scarce
commodity since their return from Naboo.

In the weeks that followed the mission, they had been caught up
in a whirl of activity. They had both been part of Palpatine's
hearing, had both been called to report to the Council and the
Senate numerous times. Qui-Gon had also been focused on helping
Obi-Wan and Maul recover from their physical--and in Maul's case,
mental and emotional--wounds, and Maede had found herself
suddenly more in demand for field work. Despite her protests that
she hadn't really done anything, that Qui-Gon had been the one to
work miracles to save the two Knights' lives, she was put on
active duty and had been away from the Temple more often than
not, faced with a long line of requests for her presence on
missions.

But Obi-Wan was now fully recovered and practicing at his former
levels of speed and skill, and since the interlude on Tayrrn,
Maul was much more settled and at peace. His physical recovery
had been and would continue to be slower than Obi-Wan's, but he
was regaining far more mobility than the Healers had expected,
probably due to his own determination. He still used the gimer
staff that Yoda had given him, but he relied on it less and less
to support and balance him with every new day.

And so Qui-Gon didn't feel compelled to make himself available to
them as their lives were returning to normal at last; they needed
him less now, and he was free to pursue his own interests, which
in this case happened to be a certain Healer who always seemed to
have mischief in her eyes when she looked at him.

A Healer who had also recently put her foot down and declared
that she didn't *want* to be on constant rotation for field work.

"If I were a better warrior and diplomat, maybe," she had told
Qui-Gon after a recent mission. "But I'm not, and at the rate I'm
going, I won't live to become one. I'll die of exhaustion first.
Field work is fine on occasion, but I'm not cut out for a steady
diet of it. I'll leave the adventure to the experts," she added,
slanting a teasing smile at him.

After the success of the Naboo mission, the four of them had
found themselves in the unique position of being able to get what
they wanted--within reason. Maede's petition to be taken off the
active duty roster and restored to Med full-time had been
granted; she simply had to fulfill the remaining two missions on
her current schedule, the second and last of which she would be
returning from that day.

A green light flashed on the console, alerting him to an incoming
message, and he switched on the holoviewer to accept it,
anticipation quickening within him when he realized it was from
Maede, informing him what time to expect her back at the Temple
that afternoon. After he'd responded to her message and let her
know of the plans he'd arranged, Qui-Gon stood up and stretched,
then retrieved his robe and headed out the door to the meditation
garden where he was to meet with Yoda.

Things had been strained between himself and the members of the
Council until he and Maul had finally had their say to that
"esteemed group." That encounter had helped him release the last
vestiges of his own anger and resentment at the way he and the
two young men he'd come to think of as his apprentices had been
treated, and he was at peace with the Council.

For now, anyway.

Smiling a small, very pleased smile, Qui-Gon exited their
quarters and sauntered at his leisure down the hall, his mind
jumping ahead to the reunion he planned for that evening. A
quiet, pleasant dinner, yes, and afterward... His smile widened
wolfishly. Afterward, he intended to turn the reunion into a
union such as their conflicting schedules hadn't allowed them to
enjoy yet.

It didn't once occur to him that, distracted by the message and
his own anticipatory thoughts, he'd forgotten to close his
personal calendar program...

* * *

"Oh, yes..." A gleefully wicked grin spread slowly across
Obi-Wan's face as he stared at the console screen, scarcely able
to believe his luck. Fate or the Force had just dropped a lovely
treasure in his hands, and he took a moment to savor it and all
the accompanying possibilities. "Ohhhh, yes... This is
beautiful... This is just too perfect..."

From the kitchen area, Maul glanced up from the water he was
heating for tea, one eyebrow raised. "What, may I ask, have you
found on that screen to cause you to say things previously
reserved for the privacy of our bed?"

Obi snorted but otherwise ignored his mate's remarks for the
moment. "Only Qui-Gon's personal calendar."

His eyes wide with alarm, Maul put down the two mugs he had just
retrieved from the overhead cabinet and moved to stand behind Obi
at the console; his staff was propped in the corner by the door,
used these days only when he stepped beyond the confines of their
quarters since walking around their small, shared rooms was no
longer taxing to him.

"Obi, you should not have accessed that."

"I didn't!" Obi protested, giving Maul a look of pure innocence
over his shoulder. "I just sat down and there it was. Qui-Gon
must have forgotten to close it."

"Then *you* should close it," Maul insisted. "You should not
invade his privacy in such a way."

"And squander this perfect opportunity?" He shook his head
vehemently. "I think not. This is exactly what I've wanted, and
I'm not going to just let it go."

"What do you mean?" Maul's voice was laced with suspicion, but
Obi's concentration was on the screen as he scanned the dates for
information.

"I mean," he replied absently, "I'm going to use what's here to
get a little of my own back."

"Obi..." The suspicion had changed to a note of warning, and Obi
swiveled the chair around so he could look at his mate.

"Maul, how many times has he teased us both about our
relationship?" he asked in his calmest, most reasonable tone.
"How many times has he walked in on us unannounced, then smirked
at us for whatever he caught us doing? How many times has he made
us--"

"Made *you*."

"All right, fine. Made *me* feel like a teenage Padawan again
with just a few well-chosen words?"

"There have been a number of incidents of that nature," Maul
conceded, albeit reluctantly.

"Exactly my point," Obi replied firmly. "Now we'll finally be
able to even the score."

"What do you mean, 'we'?"

"Oh, come *on*!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet and grasping
Maul's arms. "I can't do this without you--I need your help!"

"I see." Maul broke free from Obi's grip and returned to the
kitchen where his water was boiling; adding a strainer of tea
leaves to the pot, he stood back and regarded his mate somberly
as he let the tea steep. "You wish me to be involved so that
Qui-Gon will be equally furious with both of us, and you will not
have to bear the brunt of his retaliation alone."

"No, that's not it." Obi smiled winningly as he moved into the
kitchen; he slid both arms around Maul's waist and pulled his
lover close, then rested his chin on Maul's shoulder. "It's just
that I've got an idea, and I need your help to implement it. I
can't do this alone. It'll be too obvious. Besides, things have
been far too serious lately. It's time for a little fun, don't
you think?" He nuzzled Maul's ear until he felt a shiver in
response, and then he whispered, "Please?"

He felt rather than heard Maul release a long, slow sigh. "All
right. What do you have in mind?"

* * *

Maede sighed quietly as she slipped out of her robe and tossed it
over the back of the nearest chair; the mission hadn't been
terribly difficult, but there had been too many of them recently,
one after another, and she was more than ready for some time at
home, some time to relax and restore her depleted store of
energy.

Fortunately, she was now officially off active duty, and she
intended to celebrate--starting that very night. A lovely, quiet
dinner with Qui-Gon and perhaps later... She smiled secretively.
Perhaps later they would have a private dessert.

She had enough time before he was due to arrive for a restorative
nap, and when the alarm woke her, she showered and dressed,
finishing just in time to hear the door chime sound.

"Open," she commanded, an eager smile curving her lips as the
door slid open and revealed the tall Jedi Master waiting in the
hall. Holding out her hands, she moved to greet him, her eyes
warm and inviting as she drank in the sight of him.

And what a delicious sight it was.

For once, he had traded his usual Jedi uniform for civilian
clothes that, to her delight, weren't nearly as concealing as the
loose robes were. She could admire the breadth of his shoulders
and chest, the length and power of his legs--and she did. The
young Knights under his care had nothing on Qui-Gon Jinn when it
came to strength, power and sheer masculine appeal.

Qui-Gon clasped her hands in both his own and raised them to his
lips, mirroring her smile, and she felt a responsive heat at the
whisper of his breath and beard against her skin. "I missed you."
His deep voice was soft and intimate, sending shivers down her
spine, and it took all her willpower not to trace those words
back to their point of origin and drag him down into a kiss right
then and there.

"I missed you too," she whispered; the moment seemed right for
hushed voices, and she didn't want to interrupt it.

Releasing her hands, he reached out and threaded his fingers
through her sandy brown hair, sifting through the shoulder-length
strands before framing her face with both hands. "We have
reservations," he said regretfully. "But I can't resist..."

With that, he bent and brushed his lips against hers in a light,
almost questioning kiss, but if he expected her to do the
responsible thing and draw away so they could be at the
restaurant on time, he vastly underestimated how much she had
missed their time together and how much she desired him. Instead
of letting the kiss remain brief and chaste, she pursued him when
he began to pull away, sliding her arms around his neck and
coaxing his full lower lip between her own so she could taste and
nibble it as thoroughly as she'd thought about doing all those
long, lonely nights while she was away.

The next thing she knew, she found herself swept into a
breath-stealing embrace, and she melted shamelessly against the
length of Qui-Gon's firm, solid body, savoring the feel of his
battle-hardened muscles beneath her roving hands as she caressed
his shoulders and back as far as she could reach. The moment she
felt him deepening the kiss, she conceded to the pressure of his
lips and the warm seeking of his tongue, meeting it eagerly with
her own; soft moans escaped her throat as she explored every
subtle nuance of his mouth as thoroughly as he explored hers.

She whimpered a protest when he pulled away again, but he held
her closer and nuzzled her ear, sending fresh sparks skittering
along her nerve endings. "Perhaps we could dine in this evening,"
he suggested, his voice a low growl that threatened the stability
of her knees, especially since she had a very good idea what the
main course would be.

But before she could reply that yes, she loved the idea and
wanted to go straight to dessert, her stomach answered for her,
sending out a rumble that practically echoed in the silence of
the room. Dull heat stung her cheeks, and she smiled wryly.

"I... uh... I haven't eaten in a while," she admitted.

His answering smile contained no trace of mockery as he ran the
backs of his fingers along the side of her face. "Then we'll have
dinner as planned," he replied. "Then later..." He allowed the
words to trail off, but his eyes contained a promise she fully
intended to help him keep.

"Yes, later," she repeated softly, backing away from him
reluctantly.

Whether due to the aftereffects of their rather heated greeting,
as foreshadowing of what was to occur later, or simply because he
wanted to, Qui-Gon was unusually attentive that evening. As they
walked through the halls of the Temple, he kept one hand on her
elbow, and once they were settled in the skycab on the way to the
restaurant, he slipped his arm across her shoulders, drawing her
near. Maede relaxed against him, snuggling under the protective
drape of his arm, feeling both utterly content with this perfect
moment and anticipatory about their unspoken after-dinner plans.

It was a good thing, she thought later, that she had let herself
be immersed in the moment, because the ride to the restaurant
turned out to be the highlight of the evening; everything
afterward was all downhill.

Things started off well enough; they arrived on time and were
seated promptly, and Qui-Gon had reached for her hand across the
table, stroking the back of it idly with his thumb as they
perused the menus--and then it happened.

"Master! Maede!"

A familiar voice grabbed her attention, making her look up from
the menu to see Obi-Wan and Maul headed for their table; Qui-Gon
immediately withdrew his hand from hers, and when she glanced at
him, she noticed a fleeting look of surprise on his face that was
quickly masked and turned into warm courtesy.

"Obi-Wan. Maul." The Jedi Master nodded and smiled at them both.
"I... wasn't expecting to see you two here."

"Well, it's a pleasant surprise all the way around," Obi said,
beaming. "I've been telling Maul about this place for weeks, and
I finally talked him into coming with me. We're celebrating."

"Celebrating?"

Obi glanced at his mate, giving Maul a look full of affection.
"No staff," he murmured, pride shining in his eyes, and Maede
belatedly noticed that Maul was indeed without the gimer staff
that had habitually been in his hand since Yoda had given it to
him.

"Maul, that's excellent," she said, offering her own encouraging
smile. "I'm so glad your mobility is returning. At this rate,
you'll be off on another mission in no time."

Maul seemed to hesitate at that, but he said nothing, merely
inclined his head in more acknowledgment of than agreement with
her remark.

Meanwhile, Obi divided a bright, expectant gaze between Qui-Gon
and Maede. "I have an idea. Why don't we have dinner together?
We'll make it a group celebration. It'll be appropriate, don't
you think? All of us together again?"

Maede widened her tawny hazel eyes in a silent plea to Qui-Gon,
who gave her a helpless look and a tiny shrug in response as if
to say, "what can I do?" Short of being outright rude, neither of
them could very well say no. Distance themselves from a
celebration of their team mate's recovery? No, she couldn't do
it, and she was just Obi and Maul's friend. Given what they both
meant to Qui-Gon, she knew of a certainty he wouldn't be able to
refuse them.

"By all means," Qui-Gon replied graciously. "Please join us."

Obi scrambled to find two more chairs, and soon he and Maul were
settled at the table. It was the death knell of what had started
off as an intimate, romantic dinner.

She glanced beneath her lashes at Qui-Gon, who appeared to be
absorbed in a story Obi was relating about a recent sparring
session. Maul was characteristically quiet, but she had noticed
him wincing slightly as he sat down; it was a damp night,
threatening rain, and she suspected his bones would alert him to
changes in the weather from now on.

/Oh, well,/ Maede thought ruefully, /Only a couple of hours, and
then we can go back to the Temple--alone./

That glimmer of hope had sustained her through the evening--that,
and the banked fire in Qui-Gon's eyes when he looked at her,
clearly letting her know he hadn't forgotten their plans.

Finally--finally!--dinner was over, dessert had been served, and
after-dinner beverages had been lingered over as long as
possible. Maede shifted in her seat, waiting for Qui-Gon to issue
a polite farewell and excuse them both from the company of the
two young Knights. Besides, if tonight was a celebration for
them, surely they too would want some time alone.

Or so she thought.

Fate, it seemed, had other ideas in mind. As soon as Qui-Gon
pushed back his chair and stood up to bid their companions good
night, Maul followed his lead and rose as well, only to fall
heavily back in his chair again, grimacing with pain. Maede
turned to him immediately, scanning him for any sign of serious
trouble, but the fall must have resulted from stiffness rather
than any latent problem with his healing process because she
sensed nothing. Qui-Gon reached out to offer a steadying hand,
and Obi hurried around from his side of the table to lend his
mate support.

"My hips have ached all evening," Maul said in what was, for him,
an apologetic tone, and it was clear he was uncomfortable being
the focus of their attention. "I believe I may have sat still too
long, and now they are stiff as well as painful."

"Master..." Obi turned a pleading look on Qui-Gon. "Can you help
me get him home?" A beat, then, "Please?"

Maede cared for Maul, she really did, and she was terribly sorry
that he was in pain, but damn! The timing for this couldn't be
worse. Her body felt like one massive ache of longing, and all
she wanted--all she *had* wanted for weeks--was to be in
Qui-Gon's arms, to hold him and caress him and make love with
him, to feel his bare flesh against hers... and thinking about it
certainly wasn't helping...

She stood and moved in front of Qui-Gon, knowing what he was
going to say and bracing herself for it. With regret clear to
read in his face, he gazed down at her and gently touched her
cheek.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "But I'm needed."

"I understand," she replied past the lump of disappointment in
her throat. "Go on, I can see myself home. Tomorrow night, all
right?"

"Yes, tomorrow night." He leaned over and brushed a kiss across
her lips. "No interruptions," he whispered, and she nodded,
mustering a smile as she folded her arms around her middle.

Maede watched them go, Maul leaning against Qui-Gon for
support--a clear sign he was in more pain than he admitted
because that stubborn young man never relied on anyone if he
could help it--and she sighed, releasing her disappointment into
the Force. There was no point dwelling on what might have been;
it wasn't going to be, not that night anyway, and so she simply
had to let it go and concentrate on what was. Shrugging to
herself, she decided to go to Med in hopes that immersing herself
in work would help her forget the yearning she felt. Then she
would go home and meditate and catch up on her rest.

Resigned to her new plans for the rest of the evening, she
followed their path out the door and returned to the Temple
alone.

* * *

"That was perfect!" Obi crowed once he and Maul were in the
privacy of their bedroom, and he was certain that Qui-Gon was
also in his own room, well out of hearing range.

Maul peeled off his shirt, put it away neatly and perched on the
edge of the bed, a tube of ointment in his hand which he held out
to his mate. Taking it, Obi settled on the bed behind Maul and
wrapped his legs around Maul's waist before opening the tube,
squeezing out a little of its contents and, after warming the
unguent between his palms, massaging Maul's shoulders.

"How bad is it really?" Obi asked, his voice growing soft with
concern.

Dropping his chin on his chest, Maul purred as Obi worked the
ointment into skin and rubbed his shoulders firmly. "Aching. But
better now."

"You weren't really... I mean, when you fell..."

Maul peeked up at him, a tiny smile playing on his lips.
"Improvisation is a little known facet of Sith training."

Laughing delightedly, Obi slipped his arms around Maul's
shoulders and embraced him. "I knew there was a reason I love
you."

"Of course you do."

"And now..." Obi hesitated, gnawing his bottom lip. "About
tomorrow night..."

"What about it?" He could hear the raised eyebrow in that
question.

"They're going out again."

"And?"

"And I thought we could..." He shrugged negligently. "You know.
Stir up a little more trouble."

Shaking his head, Maul shot Obi an aggrieved look over his
shoulder. "You are pushing your luck."

"Oh, come on! Qui-Gon would never suspect either of us of
deliberately sabotaging him."

"I meant with *me*."

"Maul, it's just a couple of hours," he argued. "You've never
been to a play before. How can you judge something as useless if
you've never even seen one?"

"I have never seen Master Yoda going for a joy ride in a pod
racer before either, but I already know it is something I have no
interest in seeing."

"Maul..."

Maul shifted to face Obi-Wan, his expression somber. "Obi, there
are many things I would do if you simply asked. This is not one
of them."

It was then that Obi pulled out his most effective weapon.

"I'm sorry, but I've got a last-minute patient, and I'm already
running late as it is."

Qui-Gon released a sharp breath that wasn't--quite--an annoyed
snort as he listened to the brief message Maede had sent. After
their plans had been so thoroughly shattered the night before, he
had every intention of going to her quarters, literally sweeping
her off her feet and dismissing any thought of traveling farther
away than her bedroom. The play be cursed, he wanted time alone
with Maede.

Unfortunately, such was not to be.

Again.

"If you don't mind," her miniature image continued blithely,
"let's meet in the lobby of the theater instead. I've sent
someone to get my clothes, so I'm going to change and leave from
here to save some time. I'll see you at The Sphere, all right?"

Qui-Gon's mouth thinned to a line of displeasure. He *did* mind.
He minded very much. That meant he'd have to sit through the
entire performance, waiting impatiently for it to be over so he
could get her alone, but at least this time, they wouldn't have
to worry about being interrupted.

Or so he thought.

When he arrived at the theater, Maede wasn't there, and so he
allowed himself to be drawn into conversation with a Senator he
had once worked with. Some kind of alliance negotiations, if he
remembered correctly. But even as he gave the appearance of
focusing his complete attention on the jovial politician, he kept
an eye on the entrance, alert to every new arrival until she
finally walked in.

Qui-Gon watched as she glanced around, her questioning expression
transforming to a warm and obviously pleased smile when she
spotted him; immediately, she crossed the room to join him. As if
on cue, he slid his arm across her shoulders, and she moved to
press against his side as he introduced her to the Senator, a
subtle display of possessiveness and belonging that both amused
and pleased him when he realized what they had done. Although she
was on the upper side of average height, she still barely reached
his chin, but that didn't keep them from fitting well together.

While Maede exchanged pleasantries with the Senator and his
entourage, Qui-Gon found himself preoccupied with the back of her
neck. She'd worn her hair up--a rare occurrence--and his hand had
settled naturally in the curve of her shoulder, positioned just
right so that he could caress her nape with his thumb. Looking
down, he found himself wanted to do more than that. Thoughts of
leaning over and nuzzling, tasting, and kissing that tender
expanse of skin crowded his mind, but he pushed them aside for
later. He would wait until they were alone, and *then* he would
discover all the wonders of that small but tempting spot.

A discrete bell alerted them that there were only five minutes
remaining until the curtain rose, and with a polite bow, Qui-Gon
excused himself and Maede from the group, and he lead her inside
the auditorium where they soon located their seats.

"Have I mentioned how lovely you look tonight?" he asked once
they were settled, letting all the latent heat he felt be seen in
his eyes as he gazed at her.

"Considering I was covered in blood an hour ago, you're looking
at nothing short of a miracle," she replied, her smile a teasing
one.

"Nothing serious, I hope?"

"No, just a child from the nursery who took a fall and was
bleeding from several cuts. A couple were deep enough to need
bacta patches, but she wasn't in any danger. Unfortunately, she
was very frightened and *very* clingy, and she managed to smear
blood all over me."

"One of the risks of the business, huh?" A new voice entered the
conversation. "You cleaned up really well, though."

A new, but not unfamiliar voice, and Qui-Gon suppressed a growl
as he turned to find Obi-Wan leaning on the back of his seat,
gazing sympathetically at Maede, who was staring incredulously
back at him. Maul was seated beside Obi-Wan, watching the
proceedings with hooded eyes.

"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon snapped, all trace of patience fled. His
instincts were telling him in no uncertain terms that something
wasn't right here, but he was too annoyed to follow the thread of
thought to its logical conclusion just yet. Right now, all he
wanted to do was throttle a certain former Padawan of his. "What
in all the Sith hells are you doing here?"

Obi-Wan turned a disingenuous look on him, seeming to be wounded
by the very question, but Qui-Gon wasn't fooled. Not for a
minute. He'd lived with that boy for thirteen years, and he knew
when Obi-Wan was being too innocent to be innocent.

"I've heard excellent reviews of this play, Master," Obi-Wan
explained, all wide-eyed virtuousness. "And I thought it would be
a really good way to show Maul that theatrical performances
aren't the waste of time he thinks they are. Right, Maul?"

Beside him, Maul nodded tersely. From the way he was sitting with
his arms folded and his belligerent glare at the stage seeming to
read "I dare you to entertain me," he was obviously no more
pleased to be there than Qui-Gon and, judging from the dangerous
narrowing of her eyes, Maede were to see them.

It sounded like a plausible enough explanation, but Qui-Gon still
didn't like it. He turned around again, irritated that they were
right behind him, no doubt watching every move. If he so much as
brushed Maede's arm with his, Obi-Wan would never let him forget
it.

"There's something suspicious about all this," Maede leaned over
and whispered, shooting a quick glare at the two Knights behind
them.

"It's a rather unfortunate coincidence--"

"On the contrary, it's *very* fortunate for them!" she retorted.

His eyebrows rose questioningly as the implications of her words
sank in. "Are you saying you think this is deliberate?"

"I'm saying I'm annoyed enough to be suspicious of their
motives," she replied. "First they just happen to show up at the
same restaurant and invite themselves to join us, and now this?"

"I wouldn't have thought it of Maul, but with my Padawan,
anything is possible," he mused. "Let's wait until the end of the
performance. If they contrive a way of keeping us from leaving
together, we'll know there's a plot at work."

"And then we kill them."

"Yes."

By the end of act one, Qui-Gon was already convinced that his
former Padawan was indeed up to no good. If his unexpected
appearance with Maul wasn't enough proof on its own, the fact
that he continually leaned forward, inserting himself between
Qui-Gon and Maede, in order to continue a running commentary
about the story of the play, the cast, the directions, and
anything else he could come up with. Maul, on the other hand, was
as silent as the grave, and Qui-Gon suspected that Obi-Wan would
be having a serious discussion with his mate as well before the
night was over.

*If* he survived what Qui-Gon intended. After Maede was finished
with him, of course. Ladies first, after all.

"You know..." she remarked conversationally after yet another
editorial injection from Obi-Wan. "I took a vow to heal and
protect life, but there are exceptions to every rule, if you ask
me."

Qui-Gon nodded sagely. "The Code forbids a Master abusing his
Padawan, but Obi-Wan is no longer my apprentice, and he has much
abused me first. This will simply be... justice."

"Well, let's not judge anything until the end of the play. He's
just being annoying right now, not outright conniving," she
admitted reluctantly.

But any chance for clemency that might have been granted to
Obi-Wan was obliterated as soon as the house lights were raised.
Qui-Gon stood up, waiting for Maede to rise as well, and when she
did, he took her hand and settled it in the crook of his arm. He
was deliberately baiting Obi-Wan, revealing his intent for the
remainder of the evening in order to gauge the young man's
reaction. If Obi-Wan waved farewell and both parties went their
separate ways, Qui-Gon would have a word with him later about
talking during a performance, but he would be kind about it.

But if Obi-Wan showed any sign of trying to interrupt his
Master's plans...

"I have an idea," Obi-Wan chirped brightly. "Why don't we all go
out somewhere for tea and discuss the play?"

... he would die. Slowly.

"An excellent suggestion, my Padawan," Qui-Gon replied silkily.
"Why don't we return to our quarters. I replenished our tea
supply just today, and we can all be comfortable there."

"What are you up to?" Maede whispered as they followed Obi-Wan
and Maul out of the auditorium, through the lobby and outside to
flag down a skycab.

"Justice," was the growling reply.

* * *

"So." Qui-Gon's voice was deceptively calm and civil as he
lounged in his chair with a mug of tea in his hand and divided
his gaze between Maul and Obi-Wan, who were sitting together on
the couch; to all intents and purposes, he seemed to be ignoring
Maede, who was seated nearby, but he was still very much aware of
her presence. "You wished to discuss the play?"

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan agreed, his expression open and guileless.
"I thought we might enjoy that."

"Did you indeed." Qui-Gon gave his former Padawan a dismissive
look and turned to Maul. "Did you enjoy the performance?"

"No."

"No?"

"No." Maul crossed his arms and gave his mate a sidelong glare.
"It was a waste of time and credits."

Qui-Gon leaned forward and locked gazes with the younger man,
almost purring as he moved in for the kill. "Then why did you
agree to go?"

Silence. Maul's gaze never wavered, and his eyes revealed
nothing, and not so much as a single muscle twitched on his face
as Qui-Gon waited for a response. The Master was tempted to probe
along their bond, but that would be cheating, especially since he
knew he could get what he wanted from Maul without resorting to
the easy way. Still, he had to give Maul credit. Under The Look,
any other Padawan or Knight would be crumbling, but Maul
simply... looked back.

"Obi asked me to attend with him," Maul replied at last, a
neutral answer that revealed nothing.

/Oh, he's good,/ Qui-Gon thought with reluctant admiration. This
was going to be more difficult than he thought. Perhaps he ought
to concentrate on Obi-Wan, but no. Maul obviously resented having
been dragged into this scheme. It was simply a matter of asking
the right questions, and he would confess.

"Why did he ask you to attend when he knows you're not
interested?"

"Master, is that really important--?" Obi-Wan attempted to
intervene, but Qui-Gon silenced him with the curt wave of his
hand and the warning look combination that had always worked when
Obi-Wan was a Padawan. It still worked now, Qui-Gon thought
smugly as the Knight subsided into silence once more.

"Well?" he asked Maul sharply, using his best Annoyed Teacher
tone.

"He wished me to see a theatrical performance once before I
passed final judgment on all such forms of entertainment."

Qui-Gon was beginning to understand why Sidious hadn't been able
to break the young man.

All right, this line of questioning wasn't going to work, so he
decided to switch tactics and take the direct approach.

"Maul, be honest with me," he replied, injecting a cajoling note
in his voice; he focused every bit of his attention on Maul and
ignored Obi-Wan, who was beginning to fidget nervously. "There's
more to it than that, isn't there."

Another silence. To his credit, Maul didn't so much as peek
sidelong at Obi-Wan; he maintained steady eye contact with the
Jedi Master.

"What more could there possibly be?" Maul finally asked in
response.

/Ah-ha!/ Qui-Gon thought smugly. Answering a question with a
question was as good as admitting there was something to hide.

"Let's examine the facts, shall we?" Qui-Gon answered, keeping
his tone calm and reasonable. "First, out of all the restaurants
on the planet, the two of you just happen to show up at the same
one where Maede and I are having dinner, and you subsequently
invite yourselves to join us. Our privacy is further shattered
when I'm needed to help escort you home."

Nothing. Not so much as a flicker of an eyelash to indicate
guilt. Oh, yes, Maul was very, *very* good, Qui-Gon silently
admitted.

"And now tonight," he continued. "Tonight, you both again just
*happen* to attend the same play that we do, and you contrive to
keep us from leaving alone together afterwards. Now tell me, is
this coincidence or conspiracy?"

There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch into
infinity, and then--

"Conspiracy."

"I knew it!"

"MAUL!"

Maul and Obi-Wan moved as one to face each other and skewer each
other with a glare.

"You didn't have to go and blurt it out!" Obi-Wan huffed, and
Maul's scowl intensified.

"I will not lie to Master Jinn."

"Oh, and what do you call what you were doing before, then?" his
mate demanded.

"I did not lie. I simply did not tell the entire truth. But I
will not directly lie to him over something like this, not even
for you."

"How in all the names of the hundred little gods did he talk you
into this in the first place?" Qui-Gon asked, still curious about
that part.

"He threatened never to clean up after himself again."

"He doesn't do that anyway."

"I pointed that out. He countered that he would begin going out
of his way to create even more messes than usual. It was then I
had to give in."

"I *am* still in the room, you know!" Obi protested, dividing a
glower equally between them.

But at that moment, Maede, who had remained a silent observer
during the interrogation, spoke up for the first time.

"Why?"

One word, but the expression that accompanied it had Obi-Wan all
but digging the toe of his boot in the floor covering as he
mumbled his response. "I just thought it would be funny..."

"Oh, yes. Most amusing." Maede's voice was drenched with equal
layers of ice and sarcasm, and she leaned back in her chair
again, staring at the Knight unrelentingly.

"Well, I for one find it quite flattering," Qui-Gon remarked in a
pleasantly neutral tone, and Obi-Wan glanced hopefully at him.
"In fact, I think that since you and Maul want to spend so much
time with me, that's exactly what you should do."

Maul's face may as well have been set in stone, but Obi-Wan gave
a puzzled frown until the Master clarified.

"You'll spend every moment of every day of the next two weeks by
my side," he continued in that same pleasant tone. "Every moment,
that is, except those when you are studying or sleeping." A beat.
"In separate rooms."

"What?!" Obi-Wan began to frame a protest, but Qui-Gon cut him
off with a single up-raised hand and a thundercloud look.

"You wanted to keep us apart, and so now *you* will be kept
apart."

And that was that. The Master had spoken, and no amount of
cajoling or arguing would change his mind. Maul appeared to have
sense enough not to try, but Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan would more
likely retreat, strategize, then try to worm his way out of
trouble a different way. But, Qui-Gon thought, there was only one
sure way to end the ordeal early. All Obi-Wan had to do was
apologize. The moment he did, Qui-Gon would end this. That would
probably take a while, however, so he was braced for having two
recalcitrant "Padawans" under his feet for the time being.

Qui-Gon rose, went to their shared console, transferred a few
texts and programs to two datapads and, approaching the couch
once more, handed one to Maul and one to Obi-Wan.

"If you want to act like Padawans, you'll be treated like
Padawans. Maul, you will retire to your bedroom and study this
treatise on Nayrubian philosophy. Obi-Wan, you will retire to my
bedroom and use this program to improve the prototype engine
model you'll find. It should be tailored to maximum efficiency
with minimum waste and power usage. Obi-Wan, get your
sleepclothes from your room and go. Now."

Maul immediately stood, bowed, murmured a quiet, "Yes, Master,"
and disappeared, but Obi-Wan hesitated.

"Where are you going to sleep?"

"The couch will do well enough," came the even reply.

"But--"

"Go."

And, despite he was a full Knight who had served on his own
missions, despite he was a grown man and not a thirteen year old
Padawan, Obi-Wan obeyed without further question. Qui-Gon smiled
to himself, amused at how little protest either of them had
offered. He was especially surprised that Maul had simply gone
along without protesting his innocence or trying to get a lighter
sentence by virtue of his status as a mere accomplice rather than
a mastermind.

But then... Qui-Gon frowned a little, concern suddenly flashing
through him. But then, Maul had been trained never to question
his Master, to accept whatever was meted out to him without
complaint. Perhaps this whole scenario reminded him of Sidious
and was, on some level, causing him to fall into former patterns
of behavior.

Lowering his shields enough to sense Maul's state of mind, he
checked to see if the younger man was suffering any painful
flashbacks, but all he felt was low grade annoyance buffered by
contentment--probably the result of the treatise Qui-Gon had
given him. He'd known it was something Maul would find
interesting, just as Obi-Wan would find fine-tuning the engine
prototype an engaging challenge.

Satisfied that neither of his charges were suffering unduly, he
returned his attention to Maede, who had curled up in her chair
and was regarding him with amused speculation.

"That's quite an effective Look you have," he said with a teasing
smile. "Have you given any thought to taking a Padawan learner?"

"No, thanks," she replied, holding up both hands. "My patients
are quite enough. So..." She rested her chin on her fist and gave
him a questioning look. "You're going to baby-sit those two for
the next couple of weeks?"

"Or until Obi-Wan apologizes," he amended. "Considering how...
affectionate they are, it may be only a matter of days before he
breaks," he added with a wicked grin.

"Mmm..."

Something shifted in Maede's expression as she gazed at him, and
while the tiny smile playing at the edge of her mouth didn't
change, Qui-Gon saw the moment when speculation turned to heat in
her dark hazel eyes. Uncurling herself with all the sinuous grace
of a cat, she moved towards him with such slow deliberation that
he felt like he was being stalked... and he rather liked it. He
also liked it when she draped herself across his lap and wound
her arms around his neck, her smile widening with mischief.

"Hello," she purred, nuzzling his chin, and he wrapped her up in
an embrace, enfolding her in his rumbling laughter as well as his
arms.

"Hello." He gave her a little squeeze but didn't move otherwise,
watching and waiting to see what she would do next. So far in
their dance of attraction, he had been the one to take the lead,
and while she had followed with enough enthusiasm to assure him
that the interest was indeed mutual, she hadn't taken the
initiative herself in any of their courtship games. He was more
comfortable in the role of leader, but curiosity prompted him to
see what would happen, and admittedly his ego also liked the idea
of having the woman who had captivated his attention being
aggressive in showing her wants and needs.

"So..." She leaned to brush her lips ever so lightly against his,
a whisper of breath and warmth that made a shiver run down his
spine. "What shall we do now that we have some time alone?"

"I'm certain we can think of something." Qui-Gon smoothed his
hands up and down her back, the shiver turning into a flare of
arousal when she arched into his touch.

"I do have a suggestion..."

And then she was kissing him, her hands framing his face as her
lips moved against his, coaxing them to part. A low groan built
in his throat when her tongue became a gentle intruder, and he
met it with his own in a leisurely dance. Grounding himself in
the Force, Qui-Gon let his pleasure build slowly without
overpowering him, feeling passion without being at its mercy.
From her reactions, he could tell Maede was doing the same; her
breathing was still slow and even, and although her skin was
growing flushed and heated, he sensed no anxiousness on her part
to hurry things along.

Instead, the kiss continued, one flowing seamlessly into another;
her slender fingers stroked his beard and sifted through his hair
while his hands mapped the lines and curves of her back,
shoulders and arms, pausing occasionally to massage away any
tension he felt in her muscles. And still they kissed, the
pattern of their breath beginning to match, their hearts
beginning to beat in sync... and the mood shifted again, desire
flaring as the rhythm of their bodies began to harmonize. He was
ready for a more physical melding, the kind that could only take
place if they were far less encumbered by their clothes.

Qui-Gon slid his hands down to rest at her waist, then reached
for the fastening of her belt, the hitching gasp she gave in
response letting him know she had no objections. Indeed, he
immediately felt her own hands tugging his shirt free of his
trousers, then slipping beneath to caress bare skin, coaxing a
little hiss from him. /Yes, Maede... your hands... just there.../
he thought even though she couldn't hear him.

But no sooner had the thought entered his mind when another
followed close upon, dousing his arousal more quickly than a
bucket of ice water, and it seemed Maede had the same thought,
because she pulled away from him at the exact moment he began to
release her, and they stared sheepishly at one another.

"I keep feeling like one of them is going to wander out for a
glass of water or something--"

"I keep thinking they're going to listen and hear what's going
on--"

They both spoke at once, then laughed, and Maede shook her head.

"This just isn't enough privacy for my comfort," she said
ruefully.

"Nor mine," he admitted, then touched her cheek gently. "As much
as I wish it were."

She turned her head so she could press a kiss to his palm.
"Believe me, I understand. I suppose..." Her expression turned
into a mixture of resignation and frustration. "I suppose we'll
have to wait until the two weeks are up."

"Or until Obi-Wan apologizes," he reminded her, earning a
derisive snort.

"I'm not counting on that," she said. "Obi's stubborn. He may
hold out just to spite you."

"He's young, randy and in love," Qui-Gon replied confidently. "He
won't be able to hold out."

Delighted laughter greeted that remark, and her eyes sparkled
with mischief at him. "Young, randy and in love versus... what?
Older, calmer and more in control?"

"Older, more experienced, and less at the whim of raging youthful
hormones." He ran his thumb across her bottom lip just to enjoy
the softness of it. "But there are other advantages as well. The
sleeping dragon may be slower to wake," he added with a low purr,
"but his fire is no less intense."

"A slow, steady flame doesn't burn out quickly," she murmured,
nipping gently at the tip of his nose.

"And so, we wait." He cupped her cheeks and brought her close for
another lingering kiss. "It won't be long until we can stoke the
fire without worrying someone will come along to douse it. I give
it a day or two at most."

Maede looked at him, an amused light in her eyes, and shook her
head again. "Does the phrase 'famous last words' mean anything to
you...?"


/The problem with sleeping dragons,/ Qui-Gon grumbled to himself,
/is that they may be slow to wake, but once they *are* awake, the
cursed things don't want to go back to sleep again./

He glanced over at Obi-Wan, who was attacking a patch of weeds in
the larger herb garden as if it were his personal enemy, and that
visible evidence of the young man's discomfort made him chuckle
quietly. On his other side, Maul continued methodically
transplanting a batch of mint as he'd been instructed to do;
unlike his mate, he seemed more at ease. Either he was chafing
less under the new constraints or he was masking it better, and
since he was tightly shielded, Qui-Gon couldn't tell which was
the case. But he did have a fairly good idea why Maul was
guarding himself so tightly. Obi-Wan wasn't the type to suffer
alone or in silence, and Qui-Gon would have wagered that Obi-Wan
had been plaguing Maul with erotic images of what he wanted and
missed--subsequently making the ordeal worse--until Maul had shut
him out.

Meanwhile, Qui-Gon had been congratulating himself on his own
self-control.

Had been.

The morning had started off well enough; he had called Maul and
Obi-Wan to him one at a time to review their "lessons." Maul had
come to him first and knelt in front of his chair, the picture of
perfect obedience. He'd half-expected sullenness or petulance,
but Maul had simply answered the questions Qui-Gon put to him,
and eventually, the question and answer session had turned into
an enjoyable discussion of the finer points of the Nayrubian
ethics regarding criminal punishment.

Satisfied, Qui-Gon had eventually sent Maul off to meditate on
the pitfalls of coercion and called in Obi-Wan, who also
responded to the summons promptly and knelt on the floor as he
had nearly every day for thirteen years. For a moment, the Master
felt a pang of nostalgia, and when Obi-Wan began showing him the
improvements he'd made with exactly the sort of enthusiasm he had
exhibited as a boy, Qui-Gon had to force himself to remember that
his former Padawan was a full Knight now, and time had not
suddenly turned back.

He only hesitated for the briefest of moments before reaching out
and smoothing his palm over Obi-Wan's short hair; it was growing,
but slowly, and while enough time had lapsed since his surgery
for it to be too long to be mistaken for a Padawan cut, it was
still just spiky enough to evoke plenty of memories for Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan stopped himself in mid-spiel and leaned into Qui-Gon's
touch, smiling, clearly pleased by the attention. For a few
precious moments, they sat there, touching, being touched,
recapturing if only for that Now the happiness of their shared
past.

/And then,/ Qui-Gon thought irritably, stabbing his trowel into
the ground harder than he needed to, /Obi-Wan had opened his
mouth./

"Master..." the younger man had begun softly. "Master, surely you
don't mean to hold us to this."

Qui-Gon's hand on his hair had stopped. "I most certainly do.
There is a lesson to be learned here, Obi-Wan."

"What, not to invade your personal life? I got the message,"
Obi-Wan said, annoyance lacing his tone, and Qui-Gon suppressed a
smile, wondering if merely one night had been enough to frustrate
him to the point of desperation. "I don't see the need to go
through with this entire ordeal."

"Spending time with me is an ordeal?" Qui-Gon asked innocently.
"But, my Padawan, that is precisely what you were so eager to do
just yesterday."

A little grumbling sigh escaped Obi-Wan, and he moved out of
reach, sitting back on his heels, but he said nothing more on the
subject, merely turned his attention back to the prototype engine
until Qui-Gon sent him off to meditate on the perils of
interference.

Unfortunately, he showed no signs of relenting enough to
apologize, the one thing that would end this scenario early for
all of them, including Qui-Gon, who found himself viewing the
next two weeks as little short of eternity. But he had a lesson
to teach, and he would not back down, not merely for the whims of
the Sith-cursed libido which had lain dormant for years, only to
revive at a most inconvenient time.

Two weeks.

It would end.

Eventually.

* * *

Obi-Wan sent a resentful glare at Maul, who ignored him. It just
wasn't fair. Here he was, suffering agonies of frustrated lust,
and the two men next to him--one of whom was supposed to be his
devoted lover who loved and desired him--calmly messed about with
a bunch of plants. To add insult to injury, both of them appeared
utterly self-possessed, showing no signs of suffering or
deprivation such as he felt.

Oh, no, in fact, Maul had slammed his shields up ever since Obi
had suggested they try to talk Qui-Gon out of this whole two
weeks of togetherness--the wrong kind of togetherness!--idea. He
reached out along their bond, injecting an unspoken plea as he
sought to reach Maul, even on a superficial level. Apparently
Maul wasn't tuning him out completely, because he felt his
lover's shields lower again.

//Why have you been shutting me out?// he demanded, almost
angrily.

//I grew weary of listening to you complain,// came the terse
response.

//Fine. I won't say another word about it.//

The silent scoffing he sent along their bond earned Maul a quick
Force-shove that sent him tumbling into the loose, damp dirt;
Qui-Gon fixed them both with a reproachful look.

"No fighting," he admonished them, and they resumed their tasks
with meek, "Yes, Master"s.

//I can't believe he's making us do this.//

//I thought you were not going to say another word about it.//

//Maul, how can you just take it so calmly?// Obi stopped tearing
vengefully at the weeds long enough to stare incredulously at his
mate. //We're facing two weeks without being able to touch, to
sleep together, to be alone together, to make love. Two. Weeks.//

//If you simply apologized, I believe Qui-Gon would end this,//
Maul replied, carefully placing the last tender sprig of mint in
the ground and tamping down the dirt around it.

//Apologize! For what? A harmless little joke? No!//

Maul glanced over his shoulder at Obi and shrugged. //So be it.
Until you are ready to set aside your pride, we will both
suffer.//

//Fine.// Obi began striking viciously at the weeds again, a
fierce scowl marring his features. //This isn't a matter of *my*
pride, you know. It's Qui-Gon's. If he'd just see this wasn't
meant to embarrass him, he'd let up, but no. The Jinn Dignity has
been compromised, and we can't have that.//

Maul sighed, shook his head and, raising his mental shields once
more, moved on to the rue.

* * *

Sneaking a glance over at his two charges, Qui-Gon barely
concealed a smirk; if the "kill me, kill me now" expressions on
their faces were any indication, they were probably both having
second thoughts about ever advancing to the rank of Master.

Attending Senate meetings weren't precisely part of his daily
duties, Senior ranking Jedi were encouraged to attend, of course,
but if they were off-planet or had other, more pressing matters
to attend to--training their Padawan, writing a report for the
Council, washing their hair--then they would be sent a transcript
of the minutes so that they could keep abreast of the activities
within the Galactic Senate. Qui-Gon usually found excuses to miss
the meetings and skim the minutes, but today, the third day of
his enforced togetherness with Obi-Wan and Maul, he had decided
to obey his duty and attend in person, all the better to torture
his charges. That he got wicked delight in Force-prodding Obi-Wan
every time the younger man was on the verge of dozing off was
simply an added benefit.

He half-suspected Maul of being mentally not-there, probably lost
in meditation, but as Maul was giving the appearance of paying
attention to the lengthy and detailed speech about the
wide-spread ramifications of a border dispute--what amounted to
about ten miles of territory at most--in one of the smaller
systems, Qui-Gon didn't feel justified in nudging him.

Pity.

On the first day, they had spent most of the day in the garden,
an activity that Qui-Gon enjoyed on occasion, but rarely did he
spend that much time puttering amid the foliage. That had been
purely for Obi-Wan and Maul's benefits. But that night after
Qui-Gon had assigned them lessons for the evening, Obi-Wan had
huffed off to his room alone without showing any signs of
relenting, and so Qui-Gon had decided to up the stakes by
dragging them to the most boring and onerous duties he could
think of, most of which he didn't bother with under normal
circumstances.

Thus on the second day, he had herded them to a lengthy
diplomatic dinner, and now, spending the day in the Senate seemed
appropriate, but it had also been boring to Qui-Gon; there were
no real emergencies, and the speakers had droned on and on about
minor squabbles that could easily be handled through normal
diplomatic channels. The Jedi wouldn't be required, and there was
nothing interesting enough to hold his attention for very long.
It was as much of a relief to him to escape as it was to Obi-Wan
and Maul, but he was careful not to reveal to either of them that
he'd found the experience as tedious as they had.

Instead, he'd required them to recount the issues and key points
during their evening meal and discuss their opinions of the
matters.

"And saying you don't give two credits either way is not a valid
answer, Padawan," Qui-Gon had warned Obi-Wan sharply just as the
younger man had opened his mouth to speak, and Obi-Wan had
abruptly shut it again, leaving it up to Maul to begin the
discussion.

He watched, amused, as they struggled to piece scraps together
from their boredom-fogged memories, neither of them wanting to
admit they'd paid scant attention to any of it. /Perhaps
tonight,/ he thought hopefully. /Perhaps this will be the night
it ends./

* * *

"Here. Let me do that. You put them away." Maul took a plate from
Obi-Wan's hand, but Obi stubbornly held on.

"I can do it," he insisted.

"If you persist in your present method of dish washing, you will
break something, and we will probably have to attend another
Senate meeting in penance," Maul pointed out, tugging on the
plate, and this time, Obi let it go.

He had to admit he'd been a little heavy-handed with the dishes,
taking out his frustrations on the hapless plates and glasses.
But blast it! Qui-Gon was being far too stubborn about this whole
mess, and he didn't see any way out of it except to endure the
two weeks with as much patience as he could muster. Which might
not be much at all if he had to put up with more Senate meetings,
and...

He watched Maul, who appeared absorbed in drying the dishes and
putting them away. Obi watched him work, watched his long fingers
curling in and around the dishtowel as he wiped the plates dry,
reminding Obi of the many times he'd seen those same fingers
clutching their sheets in the height of passion. He watched as
Maul stacked the plates in the cabinet, and Obi could just
imagine how the muscles in his broad shoulders and back were
working, what they would feel like beneath his hands--like steel
under silk. He watched as Maul finished his task and turned to
face him, dark blue eyes suddenly growing darker as their gazes
met and held.

Obi-Wan swiftly glanced over at Qui-Gon to see if he was paying
attention, but his Master was settled comfortably in his chair,
reading, and Obi closed the distance between himself and Maul,
pushing him against the counter and pressing against him.

"One kiss," he murmured, nipping gently at his mate's lip. "Just
one..."

Instantly, Maul's lips met his in hot, hard kisses that spoke of
longing and desperation. He gathered Maul in his arms, holding
him as close and tight as he could, moaning softly at the feel of
that solid, familiar and so beloved body against his own.

"Please, Obi." Maul pulled away and captured Obi's face in his
hands, framing it with his slender fingers. "Please apologize to
Qui-Gon. End this. Now. For all of us."

For a moment, Obi wavered. Maul had never asked him for anything
before, and it wasn't like what he was asking for now was
something Obi didn't want himself. But it was the principle of
the matter.

"I can't," he whispered, leaning his forehead against Maul's.
"It's what he's counting on. He doesn't expect me to have the
strength and willpower to endure this, but I do and I will."

Disappointment flickered briefly in Maul's sapphire-hued eyes,
then disappeared, replaced with resignation.

"Then I am going to bed now. Alone. Sleep well, beloved."

Obi closed his eyes and steeled himself against temptation as
Maul released him and moved out of reach. This was definitely one
of the hardest things he'd ever done, but it wasn't impossible,
and it wouldn't last forever.

It would just *feel* like forever.

* * *

On the morning of the fourth day when he sent for Maul, Qui-Gon
began as he had the previous days by asking questions about the
text he'd given the Knight to read, but Maul had hesitated before
answering. Resting his hands on his knees and bowing his head as
he knelt on the floor next to Qui-Gon's chair, Maul had assumed
the position of a penitent apprentice who was formally asking
forgiveness from his Master.

"I apologize for my part in this," Maul said. His voice was as
quietly pitched as usual, but Qui-Gon heard him loud and clear.
"I had misgivings. I should have tried harder to dissuade Obi
from this course of action. I should have refused to help.
Therein lies my fault: I wished to please him, and so I allowed
myself to be persuaded against my better judgment."

"Your apology is accepted," Qui-Gon replied, cupping his fingers
beneath Maul's chin and lifting it. "I'm not trying to hurt you.
Do you understand that? I don't want this situation to bring back
any unfortunate reminders of your former Master."

Maul shook his head and smiled faintly. "I have obeyed because I
wish to, not because I fear you or feel I must obey. I made an
unwise decision, and I have accepted the consequences of it.
Unfortunately, Obi has not reached the same conclusion."

"I wonder how long it will be until he does," Qui-Gon muttered
grimly, but Maul simply shrugged.

"He is stubborn and will not be led against his will," he
answered. "It will take much time and desperation before his
pride will unbend."

"Then we're all in for a great many cold showers," the Master
countered and dismissed Maul, allowing himself the luxury of a
resigned sigh before summoning Obi-Wan.

* * *

"And then what happened?" A high-pitched voice piped up when
Qui-Gon paused in his narrative, and the Jedi Master laughed
softly.

"Well..."

Obi-Wan turned his attention away from the throng of children
surrounding his former Master, wondering when story time would be
over so they could leave. But. he thought with a grimace, perhaps
he shouldn't be so anxious to depart. After all, Qui-Gon could
very well drag him into something even worse than a roomful of
apprentices, none of them over the age of eight, and all of whom
had constant questions and interruptions. Fortunately, they had
ignored Obi-Wan and swarmed Qui-Gon as soon as he walked in, all
but climbing his robes as they clamored for his attention, all of
them chattering at once, getting louder and louder until Obi
could scarcely hear himself think.

"But why did the draigons attack?"

"What does a draigon look like?"

"Do draigons breathe fire?"

"Do they eat children?"

"Did the Jedi kill them with their lightsabers? WHOOSH ZAP!"

"Do you have a Padawan yet?"

"Who are those men with you?"

"Are they your Padawans?"

"Why does that one look so growlly?"

Somehow, Qui-Gon managed to answer the questions *and* continue
the story, and Obi retreated to a far corner, putting as much
distance between himself and the noise as possible. No wonder
Padawans weren't chosen until they were around eleven or twelve.
It would drive their Master insane to put up with them before
that age!

From his vantage point, he noticed when one child of about six
unobtrusively broke away from the rest of the group and wandered
over to Maul, who was standing near Qui-Gon, appearing to be
listening to the story as well. She stood toe-to-toe with him,
peering up at him, not seeming to be intimidated by him in the
least, even though he was standing in his usual "ready to spring"
stance with his arms folded and wearing a typically neutral
expression. Perhaps compared to Qui-Gon, Maul was less fearsome
if only because he was much shorter.

Finally, the little girl tugged on Maul's sleeve to get his
attention, and when he glanced down at her, she held up her arms,
a clear signal for him to pick her up, which he obligingly did.
Once she was settled in his arms and more or less on his level,
she stared at him, and he stared back, both of them looking
equally solemn. After a moment of this, she reached out and
touched his nose with her forefinger.

"You have a big nose," she announced.

"Yes. I know."

Obi snickered, but Maul's expression didn't so much as flicker at
the girl's unexpected assessment.

"Master Qui's is broken. Is yours broken?"

"No. It is simply big."

"What's your name?"

"Maul."

"Mine's Kella. Tell me a story!"

Maul seemed unfazed by the abrupt switch in conversation. "Master
Qui is telling a story right over there," he replied, but that
idea was met with blatant scorn.

"I want my *own* story."

"Very well. What do you want your story to be about?"

As he spoke, he carried Kella over to the other side of the room
where there were several empty chairs, but when he tried to
deposit her in one, she protested, and he ended up settling her
on his lap instead. Intrigued, Obi moved closer so he could hear
the girl's demands regarding "her" story, which, he learned, had
to include a brave Jedi who rescued someone.

"But not a girl," she added. "All the boys think it's girls that
have to be rescued, but they don't!"

"Of course not. Girls can rescue themselves."

Kella nodded with satisfaction, and Obi guessed that Maul had
just raised himself a few more points in her estimation.

"I will tell you a story in which a girl helped the boys rescue
another boy. Will that please you?"

Another nod, and then she made herself comfortable by relaxing
against his chest and shoulder as he began to tell the story. It
was a familiar one, Obi thought, if considerably toned down,
although he would have to remind Maul that he never once yelled,
"I should have listened to you, and now only you can save me from
my own folly" after that unfortunate incident with the droidekas.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon was spent in silence, most of it sullen
silence. Obi had moved from anger to righteous self-pity, Qui-Gon
was becoming growlier for no apparent reason, and Maul had been
pouting ever since Qui-Gon had informed them that they were going
to the opera the following night.

Qui-Gon had then settled in his chair with a datapad, radiating
"disturb me at your peril" vibes, and Maul had taken his usual
place at the end of the couch, radiating "one word and you will
pay" vibes. That left Obi with the other end of the couch and a
headache from all the negative energy.

The room was a powderkeg waiting to blow; Obi sensed that they
were all on edge for some reason. He knew why *he* was irritable:
he was tired of being kept from his mate, and he loathed the idea
of having to admit he was wrong just so he could get Maul back in
his bed. That Maul gave all appearances of holding up far better
than he wasn't helping, either. It was making Obi wonder whether
Maul didn't feel the same longing that Obi did or if he was
simply better at masking it. Either way, he had the perverse wish
that his mate was suffering as much as he was. /Misery loves
company,/ he thought wryly.

And nothing explained why Qui-Gon was so irritable, but he
definitely was. His patience was growing shorter, but Obi
couldn't imagine why, unless he was simply tired of having them
underfoot all the time.

The silence built and built, becoming so oppressive that Obi had
to break it somehow, and he turned to Maul.

"You know, I *never* said 'I should have listened to you, and now
only you can save me from my own folly'."

Maul took his time about looking up. "No. You did not."

Obi blinked, startled by the unexpected agreement, and then the
other shoe dropped.

"But you should have."

"That would've been a little difficult, seeing how I was
unconscious at the time," he sniped back, giving vent to his
frustration and feeling a little better for it, even if this
weren't the way he preferred to work it off. "But I had the
situation under control. I knew what I was doing."

"Yes. You knew so well what you were doing that you nearly killed
yourself because of the timer you failed to check."

"I checked it!" he retorted hotly. "There was plenty of time!"

"That explains why it went off too soon and caught you in the
blast."

"I--"

"Stop!" Qui-Gon threw his datapad down and glared at them both.
"Enough squabbling. I heard all I wanted of that in the nursery.
You," he pointed at Obi. "Go take a cold shower, and you," he
pointed at Maul. "Go meditate. Now."

Grumbling under his breath, Obi stood and shuffled off to the
bathing room with Maul close behind as he headed to his bedroom,
but once they turned the corner and were out of sight, he stopped
and offered a shy grin to his mate.

"He's touchy, isn't he."

Maul shrugged. "Sexual frustration has that effect."

"What?!" Obi gaped at his lover, trying to wrap his mind around
that concept, but something within him simply rebelled. He knew
Qui-Gon enjoyed Maede's company, knew that he was interested in
her, but frustrated? "At *his* age? I think not."

Maul arched an eyebrow at him. "You think not? Think again.
Qui-Gon may not be as shackled to the demands of the flesh as
younger men are, but his passion is no less keen. He desires
Maede as I desire you, as you desire me."

"I suppose he's told you this?"

"We share a bond."

Obi's eyes grew wide and round. "So... he really is...?"

"Yes."

"Gods..." Obi scrubbed his face with one hand. "Well, at least
we're not suffering alone," he said with a wry little smile.
"We're all frustrated, with only cold showers as our relief."

"There is always self-gratification."

"Gods!" Obi sputtered, surprised by his mate's bluntness, then he
laughed and shook his head. "No, it's just not the same."

"Then perhaps you should alter your approach." Maul's voice grew
softer and deeper as he closed the distance between them,
standing near enough that Obi could feel his living warmth but
not near enough to touch. "Imagine that it is *my* hand that
surrounds you," he whispered, the words brushing past Obi's ear
like velvet, coaxing a shiver from him. "Imagine that my fingers
are enclosing you... caressing you... Think of me stroking up and
down, slowly at first. Teasing you. Making you writhe. Making you
moan for me."

Caught in the magic of his lover's words, Obi had to bite back
the moan that rose in his throat just at the images Maul was
evoking, feeling his body respond as if he really were being
touched.

"Imagine me moving faster, arousing you until you cannot keep
yourself from thrusting against my hand." Maul's voice was low
and hypnotic, weaving a sensual spell around Obi that he
couldn't--didn't want--to break. "Imagine your entire body
tightening, on the verge of release..."

"Yes... yes..." Obi whimpered, burning with need, yet knowing he
couldn't seek relief in the arms of his lover; it was exquisite
agony, having Maul right there, arousing him with nothing more
than words and an onslaught of emotion along their bond, and he
was a heartbeat away from grabbing Maul and making love to him
then and there, no matter what Qui-Gon might say or do about it
in retaliation for breaking the rules of their punishment.

"Can you feel it, beloved?" Maul whispered. "Can you feel me?"

"Gods, yes... Maul, please... touch me... I can't bear it..."

"ENOUGH!"

The bellow erupted from the common area, shattering the erotic
mood that had woven around them, making them jump apart like
errant children.

"I can feel the waves of lust all the way from in here," Qui-Gon
shouted. "I gave you both instructions, now GO!"

They went.

* * *

After about twelve hours of ornate shrieking, the opera finally
ended.

Obi had spent the entire time trying not to fidget, without even
the relief of being able to make scathing comments about the
insubstantial plot to Maul since Qui-Gon had seated Obi on one
side of him, Maede on the other, and Maul on Maede's other side.

Qui-Gon probably suspected Obi and Maul might use the cover of
the darkened theater to enjoy a few intimate touches, and he
would have been right. After five long days of abstinence,
anything--even simply holding hands--would have been welcome.

But two people sat between them. Two people who didn't have to
restrain themselves and who indulged in all the little touches
that Obi would have liked from his own lover. Every time he
glanced at Qui-Gon and Maede, they were in contact. He witnessed
the moment when Qui-Gon reached out and captured her hand during
what was supposed to be a tender romantic aria, but which sounded
like a bunch of screeching to Obi.

He watched as Maede twined her fingers with Qui-Gon's, gazing at
him with a fond affection that responded to whatever she saw in
his face as he gazed back by transforming into smoldering desire.
Either they were unwilling or unable to look away, and the spell
between them remained intact until Qui-Gon reached out and
brushed a stray lock of hair away from her cheek; she smiled,
leaned into his touch for a moment, then turned her attention
back to the stage, but the message they had sent each other had
transmitted loud and clear even to Obi: I want you.

So Maul had been right, Obi mused. His Master was suffering from
deprivation just as much. The only difference was that Obi knew
exactly what he was missing while Qui-Gon and Maede still had all
the burning anticipation of the first time building up between
them as well.

By the end of the performance, Maede was in tears, touched by the
tragic story which left the three men she was with completely
unmoved. Qui-Gon looked at her with patient amusement, slipping
his arm around her comfortingly as she wept on his shoulder while
Maul and Obi simply waited for the flood to end so they could
finally leave. Maul looked drowsy, and Obi suspected he had taken
advantage of Maede's inattention to him and gone to sleep. Obi
hadn't dared take that risk; while he may have appeared to be
focused elsewhere, Qui-Gon was always attuned with what was going
on around him, and he would have known the moment Obi dozed off.

When they returned to the Temple, Maede parted ways with them
quickly, and Qui-Gon stopped to watch her go. When he turned back
to the two Knights, Obi caught a fleeting glimpse of sadness in
his eyes. A blink, and it was gone, but for a moment, Obi was
tempted to shout his apologies right there in the middle of the
entrance hall. Most of him hoped that Qui-Gon's frustration would
prompt him to end this situation sooner rather than later, but
there was a small but persistent voice inside him that was
wondering if maybe he was somehow hurting Qui-Gon without even
realizing it...

That little voice grew louder the following day when Qui-Gon took
Obi and Maul to a practice room for a sparring session. At first,
Obi was anticipatory, thinking that he would get a chance to spar
with Qui-Gon, and things would be somewhat back to normal. To his
dismay, however, Qui-Gon instructed him to practice with Maul
instead while the Master watched and commented from the side.

They had begun with katas to warm up--slow ones because Maul was
still not quite up to his past level of speed, agility and
flexibility--and Qui-Gon had circled them as they moved in
unison. Obi-Wan had earned an absent, "Mm, yes," before his
former Master moved to stand behind Maul and pressed his
flattened palm against Maul's lower back.

"Ground yourself, Maul," Qui-Gon instructed. "Reach down, sink
your roots into the earth and feel the energy rise," he said,
sliding his hand up to rest on the back of Maul's neck as if to
illustrate his words through touch. "Right now, your form is
excellent, but you're not connected."

Even with distance between them, Obi could feel the Force flowing
and humming around Maul stronger than ever, and Qui-Gon smiled
and nodded encouragingly.

"Yes, that's it. Well done." He patted Maul's shoulder and
stepped back. "Now start over, and this time, stay grounded."

They had repeated the kata until Qui-Gon was satisfied, and then
he finally allowed them to begin sparring but with wooden staves
rather than 'sabers. Maul preferred to use his gimer staff rather
than a double-bladed 'saber when possible since Naboo. He had not
been pleased with the idea of having to use his Sith weapon even
for teaching purposes, but he had done so for the good of the
Order. But now, the weapon brought back too many unpleasant
memories, and he didn't want to look at or touch it. Obi had
gotten his own staff, and they practiced with those instead, but
privately he wondered what Maul intended to do once he resumed
teaching his classes once more.

While they couldn't spar with such fierce abandon as they'd done
before Maul's injury, their practice was still challenging and
intense; it wasn't long before Obi was breathing hard and
sweating, and when they disengaged, Maul took the opportunity to
peel off his tunics and toss them aside. Obi's mouth went dry,
and for a moment, he could do nothing but stare at the elegantly
sculpted lines of his lover's body. It was all he could do not to
reach out and caress that pale, sweat-sheened skin, he could
almost feel how hot and smooth it would be...

"Again." Qui-Gon interrupted Obi's thoughts, dragging him
reluctantly back to the here and now. "Maul, remember what I
showed you on Tayyrn. Try that approach and see how well it works
for you."

"Yes, Master." Maul's eyes never left Obi's as he circled like a
pacing tiger, stalking his prey.

As quick as thought, they were engaged in combat again, and to
his surprise, Obi found that Maul was using a completely
different style than he was accustomed to, and he had to adjust
his own response accordingly. Instead of the light, quick aerial
moves Maul usually used, he was staying firmly on the floor,
moving from a solid foundation, and the longer they sparred, the
more Obi realized that the style was similar to Qui-Gon's own
grounded style.

A flash of hurt shot through him. Qui-Gon had always sent him off
to other Masters to teach him the aerial style that suited him,
hadn't ever bothered to teach Obi *his* style. But apparently
he'd taught Maul.

The distraction cost him. Maul attacked from a low angle--another
new tactic--and clipped his knee, sending him tumbling to the
ground, grimacing in pain. His staff clattered to the floor, and
Obi just sat there for a moment, ignoring the helping hand Maul
was offering. Instead, he grabbed his staff and used it to push
himself to his feet.

"Go sit down," Qui-Gon instructed. "If your knee starts to swell,
let me know, and we'll take you to the Healers. Maul, if you
would care to continue?"

And with that, Obi felt himself to be dismissed. He limped
sullenly over to the nearest bench and watched as his former
Master sparred with his lover; the picture they presented was a
sensualist's delight--Qui-Gon tall, broad and strong with his
classic features, handsome despite or perhaps because of the
broken nose, long hair and grounded movements paired off against
Maul, who was shorter but stocky with a solid, broad-shouldered
build, swift and sure movements, lean angular features and that
nose that was too big for his narrow face.

But Obi wasn't interested in enjoying the view. All *he* could
see was Maul in the place where he ought to be. It wasn't that he
minded sharing Qui-Gon's attention with Maul, as long as he got
his fair share. But at the moment, he felt as if he was being
pushed aside, and even though he knew it was probably part of the
"punishment," it still hurt. He clamped his lips together,
slouched lower on the bench and watched their graceful dueling
with narrowed eyes, trying to silence that annoying little voice
that made him wonder if he was losing his Master--again.

After the sparring, Qui-Gon had lead them to the practice arena;
at first, Obi thought he was merely making yet another point: in
his opinion, they had acted like children, and so he was going to
make them spend time with children. But then Obi realized that it
was a choosing day. The apprentices who performed in the practice
arena today were there to be inspected and perhaps tapped as a
Padawan learner.

It took every mental resource at his disposal not to fidget as he
sneaked glimpses of Qui-Gon watching the young ones run through
their paces. Was Qui-Gon there to take stock of the available
apprentices? Was he thinking about choosing a Padawan?

No! That was impossible. He'd promised that he would speak to the
Council about being permanently paired with Obi for missions.
But... that was months ago, just after Naboo, and he'd had time
to get to know Obi again and realize how things had changed.

Had Qui-Gon changed his mind? Had he decided that he and Obi were
no longer compatible as mission partners? Was Qui-Gon thinking
about choosing a new Padawan--a *replacement*--instead? Someone
who wasn't as headstrong and willful and stubborn...?

"Look, Maul." Qui-Gon rested his hand casually on the younger
man's shoulder and pointed across the arena, and once again, Obi
was reminded that Maul shared not only a bond with Qui-Gon, but
also an easy camaraderie. "That group is practicing with
double-bladed 'sabers. Did you teach them?"

"Yes. They are my students," he affirmed, and Obi thought he
heard a note of pride in Maul's voice. "They are quick learners,"
he added. "They are doing well."

"They are indeed." Qui-Gon's blue eyes twinkled with mirth. "Give
them a few years, and they'll be a match for you."

"Perhaps," Maul replied neutrally.

"Things change," Qui-Gon said softly, all amusement suddenly
fleeing as his gaze returned to the young ones in the arena.
"People grow older. They lose what they once had. Nothing stays
the same no matter how one might wish it."

Oh, gods... Qui-Gon was starting to sound just like he had after
his return to Coruscant. Surely he wasn't thinking about
separating himself from Obi again. Not over something like
this--it was too paltry, too insignificant.

But what if it wasn't just this harmless bit of teasing? What if
Qui-Gon had been seeing things he didn't like for a while now?
What if...?

No. Surely if he had changed his mind, Qui-Gon would have said
something, or Obi would have sensed it. They may not have a bond
any longer, but he wasn't that out of attunement with the man who
had raised him to adulthood.

But still... Qui-Gon's words struck a chord within him. He was
older in body, mind and spirit than he had been prior to his
Master's "death." The years spent trying to heal from that wound
had taught him much, namely that what is most precious must be
loved in the Now because it could be gone in a heartbeat.

/And that includes you, my Master,/ he thought, his expression
softening as he looked at Qui-Gon. /I lost you once. I will lose
you again. But not now./

Affection filled him as he gazed at Qui-Gon's chiseled profile.
How many times had he watched his Master when he was growing up?
Those features seemed as familiar to him as his own, and he loved
them. He loved the strong, calm spirit that resided behind them.
And that, really, was all there was to it.

Suddenly his anger over the whole situation seemed ridiculous.
Nothing was worth causing such a schism between himself and
Qui-Gon, certainly not his pride. If he needed to humble himself
to make up for the past few days, he'd do it and gladly too. He
just didn't want to feel his Master moving beyond his reach
again.

"Master." Obi rested a gentle hand on Qui-Gon's arm, his
expression somber when Qui-Gon turned an inquisitive look on him.
"I need to speak with you."

"Later, Obi-Wan," was the dismissive reply, but Obi shook his
head.

"It's important, Master." He paused, then added, "please."

*That* got Qui-Gon's attention. The raised eyebrow said it all,
and a moment later, Qui-Gon rose gracefully to his feet. "Alone?"

Obi nodded, and Qui-Gon bent to murmur something to Maul, who
also turned and gave Obi a questioning look.

//It's time,// was all Obi told him by way of explanation, but it
was enough.

Maul nodded and remained seated. "I find this enjoyable," he
said, ostensibly in answer to whatever Qui-Gon had said to him.
"I will stay a while."

"Thinking of choosing a Padawan?" the Jedi Master teased lightly,
but Maul simply shrugged.

"One never knows."

As they walked silently through the halls of the Temple, Obi-Wan
tucked his hands in the sleeves of his robe and bowed his head
slightly as he deliberately kept himself in the respectful
to-one-side-and-back position of a Padawan following his Master.
He could have claimed his rightful place at Qui-Gon's side, but
he was sending a message; after a couple of thwarted attempts to
slow down so that Obi could "catch up," Qui-Gon had finally
figured it out and accepted it, striding down the hall, his dark
robe billowing around him, the edge of it lapping against Obi's
shins just as it had when this had been his usual place.

Not surprisingly, Qui-Gon led him to the Garden of Harmonious
Colors, his Master's favorite garden. It was late afternoon, the
time when most Jedi were wrapping up classes or meetings and
starting to think about the evening meal. The garden was mostly
empty, and the flowers were already beginning to curl up,
preparing to go to sleep with the sun. Qui-Gon wound his way
along the carefully tended paths and found a secluded bench
beneath the sheltering branches of a tree; he sat, rested his
hands on his thighs and waited for Obi to speak.

But Obi didn't want to launch into speech. Hasty words had gotten
him into this mess, and now it was time to show Qui-Gon how sorry
he was.

Kneeling on the grass at his former Master's feet, he laced his
fingers together, placed his joined hands over the top of
Qui-Gon's boot and rested his forehead on the back of his
hand--an attitude of complete penitence and humility. From this
stance alone, Qui-Gon would know that Obi would not--by
tradition, he *could* not--move or speak until Qui-Gon gave
permission, and long moments spun out as Obi waited for the Jedi
Master's reaction.

A rustle of air and fabric--and then a heavy hand resting with
infinite gentleness on his head.

"Rise, my Padawan." There was an unusual huskiness in Qui-Gon's
voice, but Obi didn't stop to analyze it as he sat up, yet
remained kneeling. "This wasn't necessary."

"I think it was," Obi replied quietly. "I made a very foolish
error in judgment because of my stubbornness and pride, and I
ended up hurting you, Maul, Maede and myself as a result. I'm
sorry, Master, and I ask your forgiveness."

"You have it, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon stroked Obi's cheek, warmth
shining in his blue eyes. "Of course I forgive you. But... why?
Why did you do it? I was beginning to think that even though you
didn't want me, you didn't want anyone else to have me either.
Hence, these games."

"What?" Obi gaped wordlessly at him for a moment, then shook his
head vehemently. "No, Master, that's not it at all. I want you to
be happy. I want you to find someone to share your life with.
I'll always have room in my life for you, and as long as you have
room for me too, then I think we'll both be happy."

"Indeed we will." Qui-Gon smiled affectionately at him. "You're
one of the most important people in my life, Padawan. I will
always have time for you. But... if that's not the reason you did
this, then what is?"

"There were several reasons," he began, leaning against his
Master's knee and all but purring with contentment as Qui-Gon ran
his fingers through Obi's hair. *Now* all was right with the
world again. "We've been through so much in the last few months,
so much pain and so many difficulties for all of us after Naboo.
I thought perhaps a little prank would help lighten the mood and
relieve some of the tension. And..." he admitted with a rueful
shrug, "I also wanted to turn the tables on you. You're always so
calm and in control, Master, and I always feel so... so *not*
calm in comparison. Just once, I wanted to see you frustrated and
bothered and--"

"Human?" Qui-Gon interrupted, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes and
voice, but Obi nodded seriously.

"Yes. Human. I think... I think maybe deep down, I wanted to
knock you off the pedestal I've had you on since I was thirteen
years old. I wanted you to be human and accessible and more...
real. Not always the perfect Jedi."

"I'm not perfect, my Padawan." Qui-Gon's tone was wry, tinged
with regret. "I've made my share of unwise decisions, some of
which have had painful repercussions for those I love." His
fingers tightened against Obi's scalp for a moment, and Obi knew
that he was referring to the mission that had required him to
"die" even to his own apprentice. "I'm not the perfect Jedi,
merely the best one I can be."

"Well, if nothing else, seeing you growling and irritable because
of frustrated lust has changed my perception of you," Obi said,
unable to keep a mischievous grin from tugging at his lips, and
Qui-Gon chuckled softly.

"So glad to have contributed to my own pedestal-toppling." He
gave Obi's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "There are two
others who have shared our frustrations. If we've settled things
between us satisfactorily, perhaps we ought to see to them now?"

Obi laughed outright. Was that a hopeful note in his Master's
voice?

"As long as I know you're no longer angry with me, I'm
satisfied," he replied as he rose to his feet, and Qui-Gon stood
as well, then pulled him into a tight embrace.

"I'm not angry with you, my Padawan. I understand your motives
now, and..." He gave a rueful little shrug. "Perhaps I
over-reacted as well. We'll consider it a lesson learned all the
way around."

"Then you won't make me attend Senate meetings the next time Maul
and I interrupt one of your dates?" he asked innocently, earning
a mock-growl in response.

"Don't push your luck, Padawan."

After that, it was almost a race to see who could get out of the
garden and to their partner the quickest.

* * *

/Gods, what a day./ Maede grumbled silently to herself when she
finally left Med, headed to her quarters.

She didn't know if some phase of the moon was affecting people's
coordination, but there had been an unusually high number of
injuries. Nothing major, but steady, the flow of patients enough
to keep her busy all day and to deplete her energy. All she
wanted was to shower and then sleep... or perhaps sleep and then
shower. Either way, she planned to spend the evening holed up in
her quarters.

/Not like I have anything else better to do,/ she thought
irately, then chided herself. That wasn't true, and she knew it.
She could join friends for dinner or go out by herself. She was
simply being irascible because she couldn't do what she really
wanted to do, which was spend time with Qui-Gon.

Ever since he'd decided to punish Obi and Maul for their
interference by making them spend every waking moment with him,
he'd been completely out of contact with her. He'd assured her
that it would take no more than a day or two for this situation
to end, but here it was nearly a week later, and she'd heard
nothing from him. Every day, her heart lifted when she saw she
had messages only to feel it plummet with disappointment when
none of them were from him. Now, she didn't bother to let herself
hope. She'd resigned herself to waiting the full two weeks--*if*
Qui-Gon hadn't completely forgotten about her by then.
Considering he hadn't taken so much as two minutes to give her an
update, she was beginning to think that was entirely possible.

By the time she palmed her door open, she'd worked herself into a
full-fledged snit, and when the lights failed to come on when she
walked into the common area, that was just another annoyance to
add to her growing list.

"I don't *believe* this," she muttered, resigning herself to
making a quick dinner in the annoying shadows of the
never-entirely-dark Coruscant night, and then reading by
completely archaic candlelight. Or perhaps she'd stomp down to
supplies and get a couple of survival lamps. No, better to use
the candles saved from one of her dinners with Qui-Gon; then, she
wouldn't have to go anywhere. In any case, she'd wait to report
the malfunction in the morning because she simply didn't want to
deal with the technicians that night.

Shedding her outer robe, she moved toward her bedroom to change
into lounging clothes only to stop in her tracks as she caught
sight of a shadowy figure looming in the doorway, backlit by
flickering light. Her heart skipped a beat, adrenaline flooded
her system. Unfortunately, her lightsaber was in the room behind
the man; there simply wasn't much call for weaponry in Med, and
unless she was on a mission, she didn't make a habit of carrying
it with her like the warrior-diplomat Jedi in the Order did.
Still, she had the Force, bravado and a really bad mood on her
side. Let him cross her who dared, lightsaber or no.

"Who are you, and what the hell are you doing in here?" she
growled, a nanosecond before recognizing the intruder's
silhouette. There was no mistaking that flow of hair over his
shoulders, or the sheer bulk of the man. No one else in her life
was built like Qui-Gon Jinn--so tall and broad-shouldered--and
she'd never seen anyone else lean against a doorframe with such
insouciant arrogance. She blushed at her harsh greeting, grateful
that her face wasn't visible in the half-light, and spread her
hands in apology.

/Oh, yes, Maede, good going. You haven't seen him in a week, and
the first thing you do is yell at him. *That's* going to set the
mood right enough,/ she thought with a little grimace. "Um... hi?
I didn't expect you?  It's good to see you?"

He chuckled softly and stalked forward to close the space between
them. Taking her cloak from her unresisting hands, he laid it
across the couch, only to turn back and loom over her,
practically standing on her toes. Sighing deeply, he laid his
hands across her shoulders and began massaging.

She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch; the tension that
had built up in her muscles over the course of the day gradually
loosened and dissolved beneath his strong fingers, and even
though working out the knots bordered on painful at times, it
still felt incredibly good. It took all her willpower to keep
standing rather than letting herself melt into a little puddle of
stress-relieved goo at his feet, but if she did that, then he
wouldn't be touching her anymore, and above all else, she wanted
his hands to remain in contact. "Oh, yes, Qui-Gon. Don't stop,
please?"

"I have no intentions of stopping."  His voice was a low growl,
and her eyes flew open at the raw need behind that tone and the
implication that he wasn't talking about *just* the nice shoulder
massage. She'd always sensed the deeply masculine power leashed
within him; it was especially in evidence the times she had
watched him fight, whether during sparring sessions with Obi or
Maul or during that fateful mission to Naboo, but she had never
felt it fully focused on her. Until now. Tonight, he thrummed
with arousal, his breathing elevated, his touch insistent and
possessive. Almost dangerous.

Oh, yes... Suddenly this night was taking an abrupt turn for the
better...

"Thank the gods for a man with big hands and long fingers," she
murmured, staring up at him.

Except for the broken nose, his face was hidden in the shadows.
She couldn't see his expression, but she didn't really need to;
it was enough to be so near him, to bask in the heat radiating
from him, to feel his touch at last. So many times she had
thought of his hands, had imagined how they would feel gliding
over her skin, imagined watching them as he caressed her. So many
nights she'd dreamed of his touch, wanting it, aching for it. And
now those hands were on either side of her face, claiming her by
their sheer size, his fingers caressing her ears and making her
shiver. "Qui-Gon, what about--?"

"No more words," he half-growled, lowering his head to claim her
mouth in a kiss that left no doubt in her mind about what he was
doing in her quarters and how she would spend the evening. Forget
reading, forget relaxing, forget dinner even.

/Oh, I hope so./ Stepping closer, she put all her questions
aside; he was here, and that was all that mattered.

She slid her arms around his back and bunched her hands in his
tunic when he insisted on deepening the kiss; she let him tease
her lips apart and met his seeking tongue with her own as she
closed her fists in the cloth and pulled him more tightly against
her, silently informing him that come hell, high water or his two
intruding brats, he was not leaving her any time soon.

She had begun trembling only moments after he began touching her.
Qui-Gon had almost pulled back, fearful that she had sensed his
nearly overwhelming need and was frightened by it. But no, Maede
was only echoing what he was feeling. They'd waited far too long.
Now that the waiting was over, it took all of his control to go
slowly, and he sensed that she was having the same problem; if
his mouth hadn't been otherwise engaged, he would have smiled.
All this pent-up anticipation was going to make their first time
rather... interesting.

Nuzzling her temple, he let his bearded cheek rest there a moment
and
purred quietly, and she responded by nuzzling back, making soft
sounds of need low in her throat, torn between wanting to savor
this new experience and wanting him *now*, no more waiting or
lingering.

Just then, his fingers found the closure of her belt and released
it, and she felt her heart begin to pound with excitement. His
hands parted her tunics, drifted up her arms and beneath the
fabric to slide it slowly, gently, over her shoulders; she
shivered with pleasure at the feel of his warm hands on her bare
skin and sighed, reluctantly releasing her death-grip on him to
let the tunics fall to the floor. His fingers fanned through her
hair, enjoying the softness and the scent; she closed her eyes,
lost in pure sensual enjoyment of that simple touch. But it
wasn't enough; she wanted to explore as well, and the only way
she could do that was if he were possessed of fewer clothes.

He felt her unclipping his lightsaber but didn't bother to watch
as she laid it
carefully on her robe before turning back to unfasten his belt.
Part of him acknowledged the trust he bore her; he'd had other
lovers--some of them Jedi--but he'd never allowed them to touch
the weapon, much less remove it. Always, he kept it close at
hand; always, it was a presence in his mind, commanding part of
his attention even as he surrendered another part of himself to
make love. Always, he was Jedi. But tonight, with Maede, he would
be just a man. He relaxed into the sheer luxury afforded by that
fact alone, made possible by this woman.

Meanwhile, she had removed his tunics and was running her
flattened palms over every inch of bare skin she could reach as
if mapping the terrain of his body for future reference. Maede
was absorbed in simply touching him, memorizing the feel of him
beneath her hands: taut muscle under soft skin, angles here,
curves there, and all hers to explore. Each soft gasp she coaxed
from him, each spot that made his fingers tighten was noted.
Raking her fingers lightly through the hair on his chest, she
laid her cheek against him and paused for a moment, simply
breathing in his warm scent, but desire wouldn't let her linger.
Flashing a mischievous smile up at him, she closed her lips over
his nipple and lapped at it gently. It was his turn to shiver, to
gather her up and carry her into the bedroom. Her bed was smaller
than his, but it would have to do. He'd already turned back the
covers, darkened the windows and filled the room with candles,
letting their golden glow provide the only light they would need.

Setting her safely on her feet, he knelt and tapped the toes of
her boots, making her smile; even now, he was giving orders.
/Once a leader, always a leader,/ she thought. Bracing a hand on
his shoulder, she lifted first one foot and then the other to
allow his removal of them, enjoying this little service,
especially when he ran his hand slowly up from her ankle to tease
the back of her knee through her leggings. Setting her boots
aside, he removed his own, then rose to his feet and wrapped his
arms around her. Pulling her close, he slid a hand across her
back, slipped his fingers into the waistband of her leggings and
lowered them. She sighed against him, her own small hands doing
the same. And then they were naked, standing a few feet apart,
each staring at the other.

Maede drank in the sight of him standing unself-consciously
before her, and she couldn't wait to explore every inch of him
with her hands and lips and tongue, to give him pleasure, to feel
his body against hers, to become one. In the soft light of the
candles, she could see his face at last, and she was pleased to
see desire in his eyes, knowing he could see the same in hers.

"Finally," she breathed, laughed up at him. "So many choices.
I... don't quite know where to begin."

His finger traced her eyebrow. "We have all night."

"You don't have to baby-sit?" /Oh, please, don't let anything
short of the entire Temple being destroyed interrupt us this
time. If it's not life or death, it can wait./

"No." He gave her a slow, crooked grin. "I have better things to
do... tonight." His finger moved down her nose to tease her upper
lip, and she released her breath slowly, relieved that they
finally had an entire night to themselves and already making
plans on how to spend it--beginning with enjoying that teasing
finger of his.

She flicked out her tongue and licked the tip of his finger, then
closed her lips around it to suck it into her mouth, the light in
her eyes telling him that she knew exactly what sort of ideas her
actions were evoking; it was a silent promise that she meant to
keep before their night was over. He rewarded her with a growl,
only to have her graze his pad with her teeth and smile. Another
time, he'd enjoy letting her have her way with him, but not now.
He'd waited too long to be teased like this; the heat and the
wetness of her mouth reminded him of other things.

He wanted her on the bed and right now. Muscle answered thought;
she
was there with a yelp and a laugh, bouncing beneath him, her eyes
widening as he followed her down, looming over her and laving his
tongue across her breast. A burst of pleasure detonated deep
within her at just that one touch, and she bit back a little
groan, needing more. Laying his hand across her other breast, he
raised his head and locked his gaze into hers.

"Maede... do you want this?"

"Yes!" she hissed, arching into his touch when his thumb caressed
her nipple. Why did he even need to *ask*? She was trembling for
him, aching for him, craving him with a deep longing that was
entirely new to her. "Please..."

She was so soft, so responsive, and he needed no further urging.
Settling over her, he pulled her hard into his mouth and began
suckling. Vaguely, he was aware of her moaning and nonsensical
words of affection and fingers tangling in his hair. Her hand was
against his beard, but he was only peripherally aware of that
gentle stroking since her warmth was in his mouth and she was
hardening over his tongue. He surged almost painfully against her
thigh and felt himself begin to seep, but ignored that need to
nuzzle across to her other
breast.

"Qui-Gon." She whimpered, lifting and offering herself before he
could
get there, shuddering as his fingers massaged the nipple he'd
just left. Gods, those hands... those big, skillful hands working
in unison with his mouth... he was going to drive her mad, she
knew it...

Lifting himself over her, he sought her heat and her comfort, and
she welcomed him eagerly. There was so much she still wanted to
do, but desire was demanding a quicker pace. There would be time
for her to taste and touch and explore later--and she would, oh,
yes, she would--but now, she wanted nothing more than to feel him
sheathed deep within her, filling her completely.

Bending her knees, she braced her feet on either side of him. It
hit him then; how narrow and delicate she was, how much softer
and vulnerable, how gentle and yielding. Raising his head, he
kissed her tenderly, entwining his tongue with hers, thrusting it
slow and easy. His hips echoed the movement, and then her hands
were there, urging him on, her quiet noises of longing mingled
with his own. He slid a hand beneath her head, cradling it as he
grazed kisses up her nose.

"Maede, please...." he whispered.

/Oh, yes, anything you want,/ she thought hazily. /Ask, it's
yours./ Aloud, she answered with a purr and a wriggling movement
of her own, and he lifted his hips to accommodate the small hand
insinuating itself between them. He gasped when her fingers
cradled and seemed to weigh his testicles, petting gently before
moving on and wrapping around his weeping hardness to guide him
into her. She lifted as he thrust, meeting him more than halfway,
gasping as he filled her instantly. So good... emotion welled up,
twined around the physical pleasure of feeling him inside... the
sense of rightness, of completion was almost too much to bear...

He felt her enclose him, tighten even more around him as though
claiming him, and he wept at the welcome, his need for her having
been so great for so long that it had become a steady ache in his
heart as well as in his loins. He must have sobbed aloud, for her
lips were seeking his, and her fingers were brushing away the
wetness on his cheek.

"It's all right, Qui," she murmured, unable to keep from
sniffling herself; their joining was too intense to hold anything
back, and she didn't want to anyway. Not from him. "I'm right
here."

So often before, he'd had to be the Master, be the one offering
strength and comfort and caring. It was his job to be strong, to
hide all vulnerability, to take his charges into hell and bring
them out safely on the other side. He'd trained Padawan after
Padawan, served mission after mission, sacrificed so much in his
life to being Jedi that he knew now not to look at those
sacrifices too closely lest they hurt too much. He knew all too
well that the ache he'd felt, even before Maede, had been one of
loneliness.

This woman welcomed him, his vulnerability and his need. As
easily as that, the ache he had felt for months dissolved.
Finally, after so many years, he was allowed to be nothing more
than a man loving a woman, throbbing with need and needed in turn
by her. She pulsed beneath him, around him, a creature of
strength and beauty, urging him on.

Shifting slightly, he took her hand, entwined his fingers with
hers, and began rocking against her. She gasped as he demanded
that she open even further to him, but she did, wanting him--all
of him--and she would give him all of herself in return. Heart,
mind, body--whatever he wanted, whatever he needed. It would be
his and his alone. Passion brought out her strength and ferocity,
and she met him stroke for stroke, demanding that he move faster.
He refused for a moment, savoring the naked need of her, all for
him. Lowering his head, he ran his tongue along the outer edge of
her ear and whispered, "Mine."

She bucked and cried out beneath him, aroused beyond what she had
previously thought she could endure by his deeds and his words.
He smiled, luxuriating in the reaction and the fact that he'd
caused it. Growling softly, he thrust and held inside her. And
whispered "Mine," again.

Coherent thought had fled; her mind chanted a litany of desire
that she wasn't sure if she repeated aloud. She writhed and
contracted her body around him to the point that he shuddered
hard, felt himself surge and tighten, and had to move.

"Yes!" she cried, wanting exactly that. Panting, she tightened
her grip on his hand, holding on desperately as she strained
towards the release only he could give her.

He began moving in earnest now, letting desire dissolve his
control, letting his world contract until all he was aware of was
her breathing in concert with his, her hips rising to meet his,
their sweat-sheened bodies moving as one, higher and tighter and
closer. He felt tendrils of the Force weaving around them,
through them. Not a bond yet, but... the Force was enfolding
them, sanctioning this joining. Reaching out with a part of his
soul, he sensed her reaching back. She welcomed the entwining,
then? Did not wish him to redirect the Force?

Her desire-fogged mind was given only a split second to decide,
but she didn't need even that. She hadn't expected this, but
there it was, and she accepted it as she accepted him.

Her answer was to embrace and enfold him with her own mind. She
carried him effortlessly, her orgasm triggering his own climax.
Her head was thrown back, baring her vulnerable throat to him,
and he reflexively released her fingers before he broke them as
he shouted her name and poured himself into her. Collapsing half
on top of her, he vaguely thought to make sure she could still
breathe, didn't care if he could. His nose was buried in her
hair, his fingers splayed across her shoulder. He was shattered,
boneless, and contented to be so.

Turning her head, Maede gazed at him silently for a long moment,
taking in the details and memorizing them for later. He looked
mussed, peaceful and replete, and it pleased her that she'd been
the cause of it. Mustering what little strength that remained in
her arm, she brushed the hair out of his eyes and kissed him
gently. "Mine," she whispered, a smug observation of what was.

"Yours," Qui-Gon agreed, returning the kiss a second too late.
Her lips
were already moving away, and he mock-growled a low protest.
Laughing
softly, she surrendered to him. And so he had his kiss, nuzzled
noses,
and snugged her closer.

Wrapping her arms around him, she nestled close, feeling sated
and drowsily content. But there was one question...

"What happened?" she asked softly, and he didn't have to ask what
she meant.

"We have a choice," he murmured sleepily.

"A choice?"

"Mmm..." He nuzzled his cheek against the top of her head and
yawned. "Not like Obi-Wan. That was different. We can bond... or
not... our choice..." His voice grew increasingly slurred, and
she smiled and closed her eyes, patient enough to wait until he
was awake and alert to continue the discussion.

She had seen many different kinds of bonds over the years, bonds
of friendship and love alike, all in varying degrees. Some were
light and could be broken by either person involved, some were
soul-deep, unbreakable even by death. But for all that, she knew
little about how they were formed in the first place. She knew
Obi and Maul's bond had been created by the Force itself, and
that neither of them had been given a choice in the matter, which
was an exception rather than the rule. Other than that, she
wasn't sure exactly how it worked; she'd never cared enough about
someone to explore the option.

But now... now it was a tempting idea; the thought of bonding
with Qui-Gon--of opening herself to him and sharing herself with
him completely--didn't frighten her at all. No, it *pleased*
her...

Her hand that had been lazily stroking up and down his back
suddenly went still.

Gods! She'd fallen in love with him! When had *that* happened?
How could something so important have--have *sneaked up* on her
only to hit her between the eyes when she least expected it?

Casting her mind back, she tried to pinpoint the moment she'd
fallen in love with him, but she couldn't find it. There was no
turning point when she'd suddenly gone from attraction to
something far deeper. It had simply developed slowly and quietly
over the months since their mission together until there it was,
a full-fledged love nestled in her heart. All for him.

Well... she mentally shrugged and, closing her eyes again,
snuggled up to his comforting warmth. The Force approved of their
relationship, and she loved him. She didn't know if he loved her
or if he would want to consider completing the potential bond,
but those weren't questions that needed answering right now.

No, right now, all she wanted to do was savor the moment they
were sharing, perhaps doze a little, and then she wanted to make
love to *him*, to reduce him to a whimpering bundle of need as he
had done to her.

For now, this special night was enough.

* * *

"... Maul...?"

No answer.

Obi wondered if maybe it was his fault his mate couldn't answer,
considering that he was sprawled on top of Maul, who lay on his
stomach on the couch, one arm dangling limply over the side.
Maybe he couldn't breathe due to Obi's weight.

//Are you alive?// Obi asked, waiting to see if he got an answer
before forcing himself to move.

//I believe so.//

Obi mustered the energy to chuckle from somewhere. "If I get too
heavy, tell me."

"mm."

Taking that as agreement, Obi relaxed, pressing his cheek against
his lover's shoulderblade and letting himself drift away again.
It had been little short of a miracle that they'd made it as far
as the couch; if Maul had greeted him at the door, Obi would have
simply grabbed him, pushed him against the wall and taken him
right there, but Maul had been on the couch, waiting, already
naked. Obi had pounced on him immediately of course, not even
stopping to wonder what Maul would have done if Qui-Gon had been
the one to return to their quarters first.

He hadn't even stopped to get all of his clothes off, he mused
drowsily. He'd have to pull off his boots so he could get out of
his leggings at some point, but... not now. He couldn't move
right now; his entire body was filled with lassitude, his limbs
like lead weights, and since he had a warm and willing mattress,
he didn't feel any particular hurry to relocate.

The part of his mind that was still somewhat functional replayed
his last few thoughts and brought a certain concept back to his
attention; his eyes flew open, and if he hadn't been so depleted,
he probably would have leaped off the couch.

"Qui-Gon!" he gasped, struggling to lift himself. "Gods, what if
he walks in here when we're like this? I'll never hear the end of
it!"

"He will not."

Obi braced himself on his elbows on either side of Maul's body
and stared at his mate, who was lying with his head turned to one
side so he could breathe, his eyes still closed. "How can you be
so sure?"

"Because I know he is asleep. He is not going anywhere. We have
time."

"The bond...?"

"Yes." There was a lengthy pause, and Obi could almost sense the
discomfort radiating from his lover. "In the heat of passion, my
shields slipped. So did his. I became... aware of what he was
doing."

"Oh, yeah?" Obi's face lit with a wicked grin. "What was he
doing?"

"Enjoying himself."

"What, no details?"

There was another pause, and then he felt rather than heard Maul
sigh. "Obi, I am certain you can find better things to do with
your mouth than ask me about Qui-Gon's private life."

Smiling smugly, Obi flattened himself on Maul's back again and
began nipping and licking Maul's ear, evoking a series of shivers
from his lover.

"You're right," he whispered. "I can. Shall I show them to you?"

"Yes. All of them."

A much better idea, Obi conceded silently. Being too nosy was
what had gotten him in trouble with Qui-Gon to begin with, and he
had no desire to repeat the experience any time soon. No, tonight
was special, a time for the connection of hearts as well as
bodies, and he wouldn't spoil that for any of them with teasing.

The *next* time, however... Well, that was an entirely different
story.



-end-

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