Diverging Paths

Part II

Republic Standard Date 5199, Fourth Month, 12^th Day, Coruscant  -- Audio Feed Only  - Time-Stamp -- 04:12

            I take Anakin Skywalker as my Padawan Learner.  

            I said those words today.  I stood in front of the Council and claimed Anakin as my own, with Qui-Gon at my side. 

            I should be happy.  I should be -- after all, hasn't the Force granted my fondest wish?  A second chance to do the right thing?

            I should be happy.  Instead I'm holed up in my quarters four hours after midnight, the only lights provided by the traffic that flows eternally past.  What did Sal'kintar call it?  Ah, yes -- 'Burning the midnight oil'.  Quaint saying.  But it was a quaint planet.  It was one of our last missions -- settle an agricultural dispute involving trade with three sectors out on the Rim.  I enjoyed it -- asked Qui-Gon if we couldn't retire out there once this Jedi thing was over.  He laughed -- I don't think he realized I was serious.

            Dammit.

            I'm digressing, avoiding my own thoughts.  I have to admit I've done it more often than I thought possible these past few months.  Yoda keeps glaring at me.  Probably suspects something of the sort, and is probably trying to decide when to hit me with that stick of his.  Will have to find that recipe for Nauf'la cookies and give it to him before he gets nosey.  Bribery has always worked very well on Master Yoda.  Or at least, it will give me a few days leeway.

            I've been avoiding sleep.  With the cycle going, I wouldn't be getting much rest, anyway.  And I can't help but wonder: is it a sign, perhaps, that the cycle of nightmares began the day I decided I was going to train Anakin?

            My therapist says I'm not supposed to think negatively.  ::Audio records a short burst of laughter::

            I know what my friends would say.  I know what Qui-Gon would say.  It seems like anyone who has seen Ani and I interact believes that we have the strongest bond ever witnessed, and we still haven't even bothered to officially create the Training bond!  They say it was meant to be.

            Force and Gods as my witness, I'm starting to hate that phrase!

            ::Audio picks up the faint sound of pacing and muttered words.  No clear recording.::

            The truth is that I'm afraid.  I'm afraid that I'll fail Anakin as badly as I did once before. 

            I can debate my 'experience' with the best of the Temple's Force Philosophers.  Was it a vision?  A past life that I needed to recall, and my mind simply translated it the best way it knew how?  A gift from the Force, giving me my life back?  Oh, there are numerous possibilities, and I think Jocasta and I have argued about them all.

            Once upon a time, I was sure it was real.  But with the passage of time, I find I doubt myself.  Things have been different – missions have been different. Despite my accurate predictions four years ago, things seem to be progressing in a vastly different way than “before”.  At first, those differences made me happy.  I thought that meant that I had been successful.

Now…   Now they just make me nervous.

            Perhaps it was merely a vision, and a dark one at that – a sign of what might have happened if Anakin had been lost to us.  A Force sensitive that powerful, growing up as an angry, embittered slave – that could certainly have put a damper on things.

            So now I'm sitting here in the dark, afraid that I'll do the same wrong things over again.  I ask myself if Anakin wouldn't have been better off with another Master.  One who could take that brilliance and mold it into the finest Jedi the Order has ever seen, without knowing any of the sordid details of his possible past.  Anakin doesn't seem to remember much of it -- why burden him with the possibilities that I know of?

            There’s too many questions.  Too many possibilities.  And I have no answers.  I'm just a man burdened by a life he doesn't seem to have lived.

            Anakin moves into the Padawan's room of my quarters tomorrow.  Before, I could offer little.  This time he has friends to help him move, and two Masters that want only the best for him.  I keep telling myself that that's what I need to focus on.  I can't do anything about events that haven't happened -- all I can do is try to make sure that they never happen.

            Life would be so much simpler if I didn't think so damn much.

            **    **    **    **    **    **

            Terza awoke to find her face pressed into the cushions of her couch.  She sighed, stretching as she lifted herself up.  As she suspected, [the] soup she'd made for herself was sitting on the table, probably stone-cold.  The Healer glanced at the blinds -- at least she'd had the sense to close them before sitting down to what was meant to be dinner. 

            Her wrist-chrono told her she'd slept only seven hours.  "Not bad after a twenty-hour shift," she mumbled, then used her forgotten tea, cold but not unpleasant, to rinse her mouth.

            A shower and fresh clothing made her feel like a semi-competent being again, though she was damned if she was going to wear her tunics on what was, technically, her day off.  She grinned at her reflection in the mirror, combing through her long red hair before tying it back.  More than once on the streets of Coruscant, she'd been asked by curious passerby -- usually elder females -- how she kept such an athletic figure.  "Repairing Jedi" was her usual response.  The confused looks far outnumbered those of understanding.

            The file was still on the table next to the congealed bowl of soup, sitting innocuously next to the tableware.  Terza stared at it for a long time before picking it up.  Originally Obi-Wan Kenobi's medical file had been stored among the others, just another piece of data among tens of thousands.  And then, four years ago, a visibly distraught Master had carried his unconscious Padawan into the Ward.

            Terza smiled, even though that week had been anything but enjoyable.  Qui-Gon had been forced to rest periodically, glued as he was to Obi-Wan's bedside, but no one had made sure Healer Terza had done the same.  The case had been too fascinating, and the situation...  She remembered all too well when the then-young man's vitals had flat-lined for no apparent reason.  She'd been afraid to leave the Ward, after that.  And when Obi-Wan had awakened, the situation had only gotten stranger.  Since then, a physical copy of Obi-Wan’s files was always nearby. 

            At first it was curiosity.  She kept it as a reference as she searched the medical archives, trying to find a precedent.  Terza had at first enjoyed, and then been frustrated by her search.  Comas, mental injuries affecting the physical body, visions that incapacitated the victim.  She could find records for any of those.  But there was no case file in the archives for those things all happening at the same time.

            Then, a few months after Obi-Wan's Knighting, he had appeared in her doorway, smiling shyly.  Once she had been unnerved by his knowledge of her, but that had long since passed into professional curiosity as well as personal warmth.  With his copper hair, pale dimpled skin, and bright, intelligent eyes, it was hard not to feel some sort of warmth for the boy.  That warmth was tempered by his air of a Jedi, but it seeped through into everything he did. 

            She could consult the file in her lap for the exact cause of his first visit. 

            "I'm having...  trouble sleeping," he'd said.  Sitting with his hands resting in his lap, Terza saw that he couldn't quite conceal a nervous twitch.  It made her look at him more closely, to see the dark circles under his eyes and the redness of the eyes themselves.

            She'd sat down, then, her training as a Mind Healer kicking in almost immediately.  "I've got plenty of time until they need me out on the floor again, Knight Kenobi."

            "Obi-Wan," he'd said, the smile this time a bit less shy.

            She couldn't help it;  she'd smiled back.  "Very well.  Obi-Wan, why don't you tell me about it."

            And he had.  About the nightmares that he could never remember, the cycle they occurred on, and how he didn't dare sleep sometimes until he was sure it was over.  Obi-Wan had suffered through one cycle of nightmares already, when they had brought young Anakin back to the Temple. 

            "So why didn't you tell me then?" she'd asked.

            He looked faintly embarrassed.  "I don't know how you feel about...  about my experience," he'd said, carefully choosing his words.  "But when I was suffering through the cycle before, there was little need of me.  I didn't have anything to worry about on a day-to-day basis but myself.  If there were days when I had no sleep, it mattered little.  Now, though, the situation is different.  I am needed, and often.  People depend on me.  My partner depends on me.  The people we help are depending on me to be able to do my job."  Obi-Wan had leaned forward intently.  "I need to be able to do my duty, and before I had yet to realize how difficult it would be.  But, since that is the case now, I need to find the cause of these nightmares.  They have to end."  His mouth had quirked up in an endearing, self-deprecating smile.  "I doubt the Council would be happy about tendering leave on a regular basis because of a little insomnia."

            Terza had refrained from remarking that the Council would probably bend over backward for Obi-Wan and Anakin, no matter what the reason.  The Council was quite entranced by their midichlorian counts, to the point where Terza had been driven to distraction trying to keep Councilors out of her hair.

            Obi-Wan had been her patient ever since.  Because of the block.  That damned block.

            She chewed on the end of her stylus until the cap was shredded, then put it and the file back down on the table.  "Computer, voice identify Healer Jale Terza, recognition code A-One-Z-Four-One-Zero."

            :Acknowledged.  Proceed, Healer Terza.:

            "Journal Entry, Classified Status.  File: Knight Kenobi, Obi-Wan.  Galactic Standard Date Fourth Month, Twelfth Day."  She glanced at the wall chrono.  "Ninth hour."

            :Recording.:

            Terza drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, a much-shortened technique she used for gathering her thoughts.  In the Ward, there often wasn't time for anything else.  "I saw Obi-Wan today, after the ceremony when Anakin was granted Padawan status.  I'd already heard through Padawan Muln that the cycle was back.  If I hadn't been told, I still would have known instantly.  It must be a bad one.  It's only the first day, he told me, but already he looks horrible. 

            "Master Jinn and Padawan Skywalker looked a bit peaked themselves.  I think the bonds Knight Kenobi shares with them might be detrimental during the cycle.  I know they're all close -- Obi-Wan certainly talks about them both enough when we see each other -- but I wonder if the nightmares bleed through to them.  I'll have to arrange some time with Qui-Gon and Anakin separately to talk to them.  If it's low-key, they might not be consciously aware of it. 

            "I've been working with Knight Kenobi for four years now.  Four years, and we're still not any closer to cracking that mental safe he calls a brain.  That block might as well not even exist, as close as we've gotten to it!

            "I hate feeling helpless.  I hate it even more as a Healer, because it means I'm not able to do my job.  Obi-Wan's managed well enough to do his job as a Jedi in spite of the nightmares, but I know how much effort it takes.  One day he's simply going to be too tired, and someone's going to get hurt because of it.  No precognition there, just the law of averages.  The odds against it won't hold out forever.

            "I'm tired of not being able to do anything.  I've had Obi-Wan working with every Mind Healer I've had the authority to pull in from the field.  I've only got one pair left to try, and I'll have to badger the Council into calling them in from the field.

            "Huhn.  All I should have to do is mention that Obi-Wan and Anakin's health is at stake, and I should be able to plow through the stubborn gets.  I bet the troll will make a great bowling ball.

            "Computer, strike that last sentence from the file and then end recording."

            :Acknowledged.  File 230057, Classified Entry, now complete.:

            **    **    **    **    **    **

            By nightfall, Terza's request had been discussed and meditated on by the full Council.  It was argued that removing the Healers from the field would possibly do more harm than good.  Su'um-Va and Ra'um-Ve were in high demand, and there were still many that needed their services.  It was mentioned that when the twins finished their current assignment, they were due for rest days, and unless someone tied them down and made sure of it, they would never sleep.  It was motioned by a Master who will remain nameless that an official entry should go into the Council logs that all Healers are insane.  Motion did not carry, though not without some dispute onto the nature of Healers and Duty.  It was then argued that the sooner the Healers arrived, the sooner Knight Kenobi's particular difficulty could be dealt with once and for all, the sooner that Healer Terza would stop pestering them.  While that idea appealed to all, others still cautioned that the needs of the many must be considered above the needs of the few.  For some reason, this elicited an outbreak of theory and discussion on the prophecy of the Chosen One, what roles Obi-Wan and Anakin might play, and an argument on the merits and demerits on prophecies thousands of years old.  Those in the group of significantly higher intelligence recognized that the entire argument was worthless until Master Tahl and her Padawan returned from Ossus, and wisely remained silent.

            (Micah Giett, invited to participate in the decision due to his involvement with Obi-Wan's original vision, later caught hell from Mace Windu for his less-than-decorous summary of the minutes of the meeting.)

            But when all considerations were weighed and measured, the Council finally agreed that perhaps the time had come for Su'um-Va and Ra'um-Ve to return home.  A message was sent that night through the HoloNet to recall Healers Su’um-Va and Ra’um-Ve back to the Coruscant Temple.

            **    **    **    **    **    **

            When Bant questioningly asked her Master if the Council knew they'd gone from Ossus to Ithor, and from there on to Arkania, Jedi Master Tahl said words that did indeed make Mon Calamari blush.

            Tahl rubbed dust off of her face and sighed, knowing that Bant probably wore a flabbergasted expression.  It was easier to read her species blind than it was with sight.  Quite possibly, it helped make their pairing more successful.  "I've just made a decision.  From now on, you're in charge of updating the Council on our whereabouts.  No wonder our credit line hasn't been updated."

            Bant giggled, a distinctively gurgled sound.  "Yes Master.  I'll keep that in mind, and I'll contact them this evening when we leave the library."

            "Don't bother," Tahl said, even as she carefully rolled up the brittle scroll she'd been reading.  It had been terribly difficult.  Impressions in the paper that might have been easy for her fingertips to translate even a hundred years ago were growing ever fainter.  The wisdom of Master At'Ka'Thon was yet another part of the paper archives that the Senior Padawans of the small Arkanian Temple even now carefully transcribed to data disks.  "We're done here, Padawan.  It’s time to go home.”

            “I didn’t think we’d found everything you wanted to, Master,” Bant said, helping Tahl to carefully re-pack all of the old paper scrolls.

            Tahl sighed.  “We didn’t.”

            **    **    **    **    **    **

            Obi-Wan Kenobi opened his eyes to darkness and wondered what had awoken him.  He lay in bed, breathing quietly, and listened for anything out of place.

            Rain.  He glanced at the window and watched as beads of water trickled slowly down the transparasteel barrier.  The occasional passing air car threw beams of light through the water, creating an orange symphony of reflected light.

            He sat up thoughtfully, thinking that it could have been the rain that woke him two hours before he had planned.  For all that it had been four years since the event that had altered his life, Obi-Wan couldn’t train himself out of the habit of listening for water. 

            He shook his head and threw aside the quilt, a gift from Bant.  He smiled to himself;  if it hadn’t been for Bant’s occasional gifts, his bedroom would have remained a bare white cave.

            But out in the main room, the signs of habitation were more evident, even in the dim light.  There were parts scattered over the table, standing out in stark contrast against the coral the table was made from.  That one had been another gift from Bant.  Obi-Wan had smiled and thanked her for it, though later Qui-Gon had summed up what he thought about the table in one word:  atrocious.

            He stepped into the Padawan’s room, and it was the room that looked the most lived in, even after a bare month’s occupation.  There were things everywhere, but the room still managed to look presentable despite the clutter.  Perhaps it was because it was such a charming mix, Obi-Wan thought, touching the plant that hung in front of the window, and smiling a little at the collection of mouse droids sitting on the floor below it.  They all belonged to the Temple, and Anakin was their unofficial mechanic.  Almost every mouse droid the Temple employed had been tinkered on by Anakin for some reason or another. 

            On another shelf was a holo of their shared family:  Shmi, standing next to Cliegg, with Owen sitting on the ground in front of them.  They were due to visit in six months.  Obi-Wan made a mental note to arrange it with the Council to be sure they were on Coruscant for it.  He’d neglected his family once before, and it would never happen again.

He turned his attention to the form on the bed, and realized belatedly that Anakin was awake and looking at him.  “Ani?”

“I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep,” Anakin said, glancing over at the water that was now streaming down the windows. 

“I guess I’m suffering from the same problem,” Obi-Wan replied, sitting down on Anakin’s bed.  Anakin picked up a corner of his own quilt --this one a gift from Shmi last year-- and draped it over Obi-Wan’s bare shoulders.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Anakin replied, blinking thoughtfully in the darkness.  “Do you think something’s wrong?”

Obi-Wan started to say no, and then sighed.  “I don’t know.  I’m no wiser than you are, Padawan.”

Anakin giggled, a bright, cheerful sound at odds with the dark silence of early morning.  “I wish,” he said.  “You’d be more sympathetic when I bomb my tests.”

“I had to struggle through the coursework same as you, once upon a time,” Obi-Wan retorted, tugging on Anakin’s small Padawan braid.  “You’ll muddle through it as well.”

“Yeah, I know,” Anakin grumbled.  “I just don’t like history.  Most of the stuff they make us read is dryer than Tatooine dust.”

“Ah, but you have to learn it,” Obi-Wan replied.  “After all, those that do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”

A peal of thunder broke the early morning silence, and they both glanced at the window, startled.

            **    **    **    **    **    **

            "I'm starting to feel like a gangster," Micah Giett said, watching as Mace Windu activated the unit that would shield off the room from prying minds.

            "Starting to?" Qui-Gon shook his head, activating the controls that darkened the window when Mace glanced his way.  "I've felt that way since this whole mess started."

            "We should put that feeling to work, then," Micah said thoughtfully.  "Make it lucrative.  You know, try our hand at some gambling, some smuggling..."

            "All you need is a patch and you'd look the part," Qui-Gon agreed, taking a seat on the floor next to Yoda's chair.  He glanced around, taking a mental tally of those Mace had invited to this, one of their more unusual clandestine meetings.  The full Council was there, minus Master Yaddle, who had left two weeks ago to conduct research with Jocasta Nu on Ossus.  Micah, Tahl, and himself were the usual additions.  But tonight Bant, Tahl's Padawan, was there, along with Shaak Ti and Quinlan Vos, two younger Jedi Knights that had long since proven their worth -- as well as their ability to keep secrets.  With Quinlan was his own new Padawan, a blue-skinned Twi'lek named Aayla Secura.  Bant looked much more comfortable at her Master's side than poor Aayla did.  If it had not been un-Jedi-like to hide behind her Master, the girl probably would have done so. 

            Micah glared at Qui-Gon, and then patted the brace on his right leg.  "Don't pay any attention to him, lovey.  He doesn't know what he's blathering about."

            Adi Gallia, who had given up her chair for Micah and now sat on the floor next to Tahl, rolled her eyes.  "Tahl, be a dear and get your mate tested for senility."

            Tahl grinned as Micah sputtered indignantly.  "I already have.  He keeps confounding the Healers by passing their tests every time."

            "Terza likes me," Micah whispered to Qui-Gon and Yoda.  "Those tests could tell the Healers I was a gibbering maniac and she'd still say I was fine."

            Qui-Gon couldn't resist the comment.  "You are a gibbering maniac," he whispered back.

            Micah sat back in his chair, visibly miffed but also obviously enjoying himself.  "See what happens when you resign from the Council, Master Yoda?  No one respects you anymore."

            Yoda, who had long grown used to Master Giett's inanities, merely smiled.  "A meeting we will conduct, and then dinner we will eat.  A long day it has been."

            Mace sat down, probably relieved that Yoda had simply and quickly brought order to their meeting.  "All right, then.  Computer, voice identity Mace Windu, Jedi Master, authorization code Zeta-Zeta-Three-One-Zero-Two-Three."

            :Acknowledged.  Proceed, Master Windu.:

            "Terminate recording for the Council Chamber until I give the order to recommence."

            :Acknowledged.  Recording for Archives terminated until further notice.:

            "Whoah, whoah," Eeth Koth sat up.  "Since when are we not recording these sessions?"

            "Since Adi and I looked into Jill-Hyra's control of the Creche," Mace said grimly.  "After what I've seen, a bit of paranoia can't hurt."

            “I thought you and Obi-Wan were going to look into things originally?” Eeth asked, looking even more annoyed at the change.”

            “Obi-Wan requested that he be left out of this investigation, since Jill-Hyra’s verbal assault on him in the commissary is the reason we’re looking into her in the first place.  He said it felt too much like a conflict of interest, and he wanted to be able to say honestly that, if worst comes to worst, he had nothing to do with it.”  And I’m so very glad he did, Mace thought to himself.

            "Force Bless," Depa Billaba spoke up, her deep brown eyes suddenly more alert than they had been in hours.  She had returned that morning from an extended mission on her home planet, and duty had called before rest.  "How bad is it?"

            "They're not as damaged as Obi-Wan seemed to fear, but it's bad."  Mace said, suddenly angry and not bothering to shield it.  "Dammit, after what happened before, you'd think we knew better!"

            "Caught with our pants down again?" Micah scratched at the hair growing on his chin.  "We're not infallible, Mace.  You know that."

            Shaak Ti sat with one lekku idly wrapped around her hand.  "What exactly has she been doing, Master Windu?"

            Mace sighed.  "So far, we have indications that she's been directing the children in her charge in the wrong direction.  Half of the Initiates in the advanced classes, the ones we set aside because we know they should be Jedi, believe that they're going to wind up in the various Corps.  And most of these are the same children who got into the advanced classes because of their firm beliefs that they would be Jedi.  Someone's been discouraging them, and Jill-Hyra teaches most of these classes.  A few of the Initiates will admit that she's said as much, but most of them are terrified that bad-mouthing a Master will diminish their chances even further."

            Quinlan cursed under his breath.  "What a mess.  Padawan, you were in the Creche while Jill-Hyra was in charge.  Did you notice anything?  Hear anything?"

            Aayla looked around nervously, saw nothing but warmth and encouragement, and nodded.  "I did, Master.  It wasn't much, really.  Maybe I got out before it became really bad.  And what little of that was directed at me..." She shrugged awkwardly.  "I suppose I thought it was part of our training.  You know -- carrying on in spite of being told that it wasn't meant for you.  Persistence, I guess."

            Quinlan smiled and tugged gently on Aayla's right lekku -- one that was bound with the colored ties meant to denote Padawan status.  "And I'm so very glad you did."

            "What about you, Bant?" Tahl asked.  "I know you weren't in the creche when Jill-Hyra took charge, but you still had friends that were."

            Bant studied mosaic-laid floor for a long moment, seriously considering her Master's question.  "Nothing that I could definitely say one way or the other.  The only thing that I remember is when my friend Oppona was sent to the Agri-Corps.  She was certain that her parents had meant for her to come home if she wasn't chosen by a Master, because she was needed there to help with the corals.  She could speak to them really well, being Quarren, and anyone who can get the corals to do what we need them to do on Mon Calamari is in dire need.  But she was being sent to the Agri-Corps, and Master Jill-Hyra told her it was for the best.  Later she wrote me and said she'd contacted her parents, and they had bought out her contract in the Corps to get her home.  She's working in the South Seas now."  Bant abruptly closed her mouth, as if afraid she'd spoken too long.

            "And she might be one of the lucky ones." Micah chewed thoughtfully on a fingernail, until Tahl swatted it away from his mouth.

            Mace leaned back, eyes narrowed.  "Yes.  She might be one of the only lucky ones.  Jill-Hyra has been running the Creche for four years.  Knight Kenobi believes the problems might be more recent, within the last two years, but we'll have to check the records for the entire duration to be sure."  He hammered on the arm of his chair with a clenched fist, making Aayla and Shaak both jump.  "It burns me to realize we got rid of one bad Clan Master and replaced her with something worse."

            Adi shook her head.  "Brins Elka wasn't intentionally cruel.  The woman just firmly believed that every single one of the Initiates in her charge would be Jedi Knights."

            Oppo Rancisis blew out a breath that stirred the massive beard he had been proudly cultivating for years.  "Ultimately that did much harm, though, Master Gallia.  We noticed this harm, when she had only taught one generation of the Froxin Clan.  Only three in her charge had the strength to be Jedi Knights.  The others would have made excellent healers, pilots, mechanics, herbalists...  and some have done so.  But others were too bitter."

            Adi sighed.  "I know.  She told them so many times that they were to be Knights that the let-down was too great.  Some of the children understood, when we explained it to them, that Master Elka had done them a disservice.  But the others... she had promised them something they would never have.  And despite the training our children receive, they are still children.  They have hopes, fears, and doubts that sometimes all the Jedi training in the world can't alleviate."

            "Fortunately, Master Elka believes we did her a favor by taking the Froxin Clan away from her.  She found her Padawan less than a week later, and they're a blessedly wonderful team," Depa pointed out.  "They're conducting a review of the Camassi colony for Alderaan this week."

            Saesee Tiin, who of late rarely spoke at all, tilted his head to one side. "Obi-Wan was one of Master Elka's students, wasn't he?"

            Qui-Gon nodded slowly.  He'd almost forgotten about that.  Considering the way things had changed four years ago, certain aspects of Obi-Wan's childhood and training had faded into the far corners of memory.  "If it hadn't been for Yoda, the Force, and Obi-Wan himself, he might have been one of the lost ones."

            "And you would have made one of the biggest mistakes of your life," Tahl pointed out bluntly. 

            Qui-Gon nodded;  he wasn't ashamed to admit that it was true.  "But he was still damaged by Elka's insistence, I think.  Obi-Wan knew well enough that I was supposed to be his Master -- even then he trusted the Force more than most of us ever learn to."  Qui-Gon heard the note of pride in his voice, but it couldn't be helped; besides, it was also true.  "But his ability to trust was impaired.  I doubt that Melinda-Daan would ever have happened, otherwise."

            Yoda looked surprised, but then began to nod.  "See your point, I do.  But damaged you were as well, Master Qui-Gon.  Trusted little, you did, and dark were your thoughts.  A burden, the mark of Xanatos had been."

            "I loved him," Qui-Gon said, surprising himself with how easy it was now to admit that.  Once there had been a time when he had not even admitted it to himself.  Xanatos had been easy to love, he thought, with a pang of sadness.  His second Padawan had been a mischievous little spirit clothed in pale skin and ebony hair.  A joy to teach, a joy to be with... until the mischievousness ever in his soul and eyes had become darkness. 

            Easy to love.  Harder to let go of, even when the twisted creature with his Padawan's face had tried to kill him.  And had damn near succeeded.

            "Damn, Qui-Gon.  Here we thought we had our maverick pegged, and then you bring that out of the closet."  Micah was shaking his head.  "I need a drink."

            "The past is past, or however the saying goes," Mace said, trying to get things back on track.  "But we're going to wind up with a whole crew of Xanatos look-alikes unless we put some extra work in with our children.  Obi-Wan has already taken charge of the Advanced Lightsaber Classes until we can find a replacement, and I’m thinking about asking you, Mic.” 

            “Advanced Lightsaber Techniques?” Micah looked thoughtful.  “A.L.T. would be a nice occupation for me when Tahl’s out with Bant.  As long as I could count on some of you to help with demonstrations,” he paused, even as several present immediately volunteered.  “Then I’ll do it.  It’d be damn difficult for me to teach A.L.T. when I can’t do half of that shit myself anymore.”

            “Language, Mic,” Tahl nudged him, though she was more amused than annoyed.

            "Is that a good idea?" Even Piell asked.  "This Temple has three of the greatest duelists of all time housed within its walls, and two of them are sitting in this room."  Mace and Qui-Gon glanced at each other and shrugged.  Neither considered themselves that great, even though Mace was the only living Form VII Master and Qui-Gon was the only Master in the Temple who could compete with -- and sometimes defeat -- Obi-Wan in an open spar.  "The children might see Obi-Wan's techniques and believe that they're beyond help."

            "If you'd seen Obi-Wan work with the crechelings, that idea would fade very quickly," Ki-Adi said, grinning.  "They practically flock to the man."

            "Of course they do," Tahl snorted.  "He bribes them with sweets."

            "And what better way to earn a place in a child's heart?" Micah asked.  "Hell, I'd step up to the mat and perform advanced katas in the Seventh Form if I thought I could get free food out of it."

            They laughed as Tahl pulled out a data pad and noted that information.  "We'll get you to converting the rest of the katas yet, love," she said, smiling up at her mate.  Micah had already shocked his Healer by converting the First Form for his own use.  It was difficult and physically demanding, but the former Combat Master had successfully finished the Form and added it to the Archives for those with injuries similar to his own.

            "Those concerns aside, he's the best choice until Mic’s ready to take over," Mace finally continued.  "Many of the Initiates in A.L.T. are fast approaching the cut-off point for being taken as Padawans, and I think he can correct Jill-Hyra's damage, possibly even direct a few Masters in their direction before it's too late.  To lose the older children in that group would be a terrible waste.  And we all know that no one makes it into the A.L.T. class unless we believe they're going to be Chosen."

            "Okay, that's one problem taken care of, then," Plo Koon nodded.  "I trust your judgment there, Mace.  And since I'm between Padawans myself, I'd like to spend time with the Initiates who are taking the hand-to-hand combat classes.  I know that Master Dubarab is very competent, but you know how much I enjoy that sort of thing.  Dubarab doesn't have time to spend with the Initiates outside of class, so it's possible I'll see something he might miss."

            Mace looked relieved.  "I was going to ask you, but I didn't know how willing you would be.  Thank you."

            Yoda, whose chin had been resting on his gimer stick, lifted his head.  "Spend more time in the creche, I will.  Instructor I have been, but do more, I wish to.  Like the younglings I do, and spending too much time in this Chamber I have been.  Open, the position of Creche Master is.  Considering it, I am."

            Most of the Council goggled openly at Yoda.  "You're really considering it?" Eeth asked, frowning.  "You're the Master most in demand in the Temple.  Would you have the time?"

            Yoda glared at Eeth.  "Time we all have plenty of.  Let ourselves be consumed by matters of unimportance, we do.  Pay too much attention to the Senate and ignore our own, we do.  Bad this is.  Bad for the Jedi.  Intentional, could it also be?" he added the last as a question, but it was clear it was a question he had already considered. 

            Eeth, however, had not.  He sat back, his frown becoming more thoughtful.  "Could it be?  I don't know.  There's too many variables to consider."

            "Obi-Wan thinks it might be intentional," Mace said.  He steepled his fingers together, concerned, as he drew everyone's attention to him.  "You all know through the Temple gossip chain that Master Jill-Hyra confronted Obi-Wan in the commissary last week, when Qui-Gon told her about Skywalker becoming Obi-Wan's Padawan.  And you all know what her reaction was."

            "Unwarranted," Adi said immediately.  "I spoke with Luminara later that evening -- she was there and witnessed the entire thing.  Jill-Hyra was... angry.  Thwarted even, Luminara thought.  She said she couldn't see why -- anyone with half a brain could see the bond between the two of them."

            Qui-Gon nodded.  "It was the first I'd seen of it, but apparently Jill-Hyra's thoughts have gone in that direction for quite awhile.  Obi-Wan hasn't been letting it bother him, but she's verbally attacked him in the past, when she's not busy pretending he doesn't exist.  Anakin told me later that she gave him funny looks in the creche.  Sometimes she would praise what he'd been doing, and tell him he's going to be a great Jedi some day.  And then he said there were other days when, out of the blue, she'd tell him it was good that he was such an excellent mechanic, because he certainly wasn't going to find a Master and become a Knight."  Qui-Gon met Yoda's eyes for a brief moment, and he knew that Yoda had spoken to Anakin about this as well.  "And he also said that she's done it to others."

            "Talk to the Clan Masters, all of them," Saesee said decisively.  "We've got our stubborn crechelings, to be sure, but some of them will have been upset enough to need comforting.  And if our Clan Masters, at least, are the Jedi we believe them to be, they will tell us if anything has felt wrong to them."

            "Shouldn't they have done that already?" Micah shook his head.  "I mean, we know most of these people.  They should have told us about this stuff."

            Depa, who had been looking thoughtfully out the darkened window, blinked and looked up.  "Maybe they've been trying to.  Maybe we haven't been listening."  When her words were met with silence, she went on.  "Master Yoda has already said it -- we let ourselves become consumed by other matters, and pay no attention to our own.  It doesn't even matter if it's intentional, or if we're being manipulated by outside sources.  We're still guilty of compliance.  This is still our mess.  First we need to fix it.  Then we will seek out what may or may not be."

            Mace smiled warmly at his former Padawan.  "You always had more brains between the two of us," he said, and Depa smiled back. 

            "Okay, so here's what's covered so far," Tahl said, holding up one hand and ticking off points as she spoke.  "We've removed Jill-Hyra from the Creche.  We've got a replacement, depending on what Master Yoda's final word on the subject is.  To be honest, he's got my vote, and I'm not even on the Council."  Nods of agreement met that statement.  "We've got at least one temporary replacement for the classes that Jill-Hyra taught, and I know more of us than just Plo are going to find ourselves in the creche in the coming weeks."  Several more nods, but Qui-Gon suspected it was a moot point.  Everyone on the Council would find their way down to the creche at some point, abandoning the tower as long as duty would permit.  They all knew what the children of the creche represented -- the future of the Order.

            Tahl lowered her hand.  "So my question is this:  what have we done with Jill-Hyra herself?"

            "She's free to do as she wishes, so long as she stays away from the Creche," Mace said.  Several curious glances arose, and he waved one hand in the air in frustration.  "No, I don't like it either, but we still have to follow our own laws as well as those of the Republic, and legally she's done nothing wrong.  In a court she could argue that she was merely exercising her own judgment to accomplish the task that we gave her, and that would be the end of it.  But," he continued, and this time he looked almost pleased, "if she wants to remain a Jedi, she's not allowed to perform fieldwork or any other service until she receives a full psychological exam from the Healers, with at least three members of the Council present to witness it."

            "Now that, I like," Depa said, grinning at Mace.  "It appears I'm not the only one with brains, Master."

            Shaak nodded slowly.  "Yes.  I like that solution as well.  But I sense that we haven't discussed everything.  There is other damage, isn't there, Master Windu?"

            Mace suddenly looked grim.  "Yes.  We tag our children from an early age for what they might be best suited for.  A lot of us remember being handed our career expectations at the age of six, when our Clan Master told us what we were good at.  The Clan Masters know what their own are capable of, and that's why they get the task.  But the Creche Master has the authorization to override those decisions."

            Many faces went pale.  "She didn't," Depa whispered.

            Mace could only nod, and Adi continued for him.  "She did, and it's on record.  We have at least four Initiates to bring back to the Temple, and the only reason we know about those is because the Masters who had already chosen them were scheduled to bring them before the Council for the Choosing Ceremonies this week.  Those are the only obvious cases.  The others, the only way we'll know if they were misdirected is by talking to the Clan Masters, as Saesee suggested.  Bant has already told us of one instance, but the universe could come to a sudden, screeching halt before I'll believe that it's the only one."

            "Right, Master Windu is," Yoda said, before anyone could say more.  "Talk to the Clan Masters we will, all of them.  Then knowledge we will have.  Pointless it is, to say more now."

            Qui-Gon almost sighed in relief -- if that debate had begun, he'd be trapped here until dawn.  Mace glanced at him, probably guessing his thoughts.  "Last order of business, and then I'm ordering us all out of this room.  Tahl?"

            Tahl glanced at him, the gesture ingrained despite her sightlessness.  "Some of you know, some of you don't, but I suppose this is the meeting that makes it official.  Master Windu and Master Yoda gave me leave to study the Prophecy of the Chosen One a few years ago."

            "Heavy reading, Master Tahl," Quinlan whistled. 

            Tahl smiled.  "The interest was based on suspicions the Council and others have that the One the Prophecy speaks of may already be among us."

            Shaak's lekku, threading itself through her fingers, abruptly stopped moving.  "You mean the boy.  Padawan Skywalker."

            "No no," Ki Adi shook his head.  "It has to be Kenobi."

            "Whoah!" Tahl held up her hands, cutting off an argument before it could begin.  "It may very well be both of them, or it may be neither.  That's not part of my job description, and you can debate it among yourselves until your heads fall off, but not until I'm finished!"

            The others subsided, and Qui-Gon hid a grin as Tahl glared.  He had always respected her insistence on never being intimidated, though Tahl herself could intimidate just about anything she came across.  "Now.  It may fuel your arguments later, but my interest came at a poem Obi-Wan wrote to finish off his requirements with Master Kita-Tai.  It felt like a warning, and after showing it to Master Yoda, he agreed with me.  The poem is in the Archives if you want to read it, at Master Kita-Tai's insistence.  Apparently the scrawny cretin was impressed."

            "If Knight Kenobi managed to impress him, then I'm impressed," Aayla muttered.

            "There were thoughts raised by our other resident expert on the Prophecy," Tahl pointed at Qui-Gon, "who created the current course-work on the subject."

            "But we've since figured out that my knowledge is incomplete," Qui-Gon added when Tahl motioned for him to do so.  "When I was doing my research, I only went back a few hundred years.  Stupid of me, but it was the thesis of the Padawan I once was, and he was not the most intelligent of creatures.  But for its purposes, the coursework is fine the way it is.  Most of our students are going to forget it as soon as they pass the exam it's relevant to, anyway."

            "Nice to know, but mostly irrelevant for the lives they plan to lead," Tahl half-smiled.  "I've been digging for a few years now, and what I can tell you all is both interesting and frustrating.  But to get to the point, I have to go through a lot of history, so bear with me.

            "The Jedi as a whole have only based themselves on Coruscant for the last thousand years or so, after the last Sith War.  That was when the Sith went underground, and apparently died out.  It's also when we became more closely involved with the Senate, based on the belief of the Jedi at the time that if we had been working more closely with the government, the Sith would have been noticed sooner, and the mess would have been a lot smaller.  This is also the time when the Prophecy, already thousands of years old, became common knowledge among the Jedi.  The Prophecy has been taught with the Jedi curriculum for the last seven hundred years, at Master Yoda's insistence several centuries ago."  Yoda raised one ear in acknowledgement of this but did not interrupt.

            "But this has also caused problems, because even in the three hundred years the Jedi had been based on Coruscant at the time, the meaning and form of the Prophecy had changed.  We've been learning it in Basic, and it's almost become an assumption that it was originally that way.  It was not.  The original Prophecy, I've been able to uncover, was written in Gaelanor.  And if you know anything about Gaelanor..."

            Qui-Gon closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers.  "The Gaelanor definition of numbers is more theoretical than mathematical.  Damn."

            Tahl pushed her hair back, nodding.  "When a Gaelanor refers to One, it's only a vague possibility that he means one in number.  But One is also their method for denoting a speaker.  And if you bring math into it, One is typically used to mean three."

            "Oh, yes.  I remember that.  The triangle fetish," Eeth said, folding his hands together as he spoke.  "They use triangles in just about everything.  Clothing, housing -- their religious symbols all incorporate triangles in some manner.  It's supposed to be based on their belief that only three working as one can do anything of true importance."  He paused.  "Now that I'm thinking about it, I think Gaelanor marriages work that way, too.  The sex of the three ultimately doesn't matter, just as long as there are three."

            Adi grinned.  "Do they ever get anything done?"

            Eeth shrugged.  "Beats me.  Seems like if I had two mates to worry about, I'd never have time to breathe.  One mate is enough work!"

            Tahl glanced up at Micah, feeling for the smile on his face with the barest brush of her fingers.  Then she smiled as well before turning back to the group.  "After the Sith War, the One Master, One Padawan law went into affect.  It's interesting that it's specified -- a Padawan may have many Masters, but never should a Master have more than one Padawan.  It's another aspect that stemmed from the war.  The records say that there were many Masters who taught several Apprentices at a time -- and these Masters lost quite a number of their Apprentices to the Dark Side.  Most of the reasoning is that they paid too little attention to them, forced as they were to concentrate on the many instead of the one, and the Sith preyed upon that, using it as a weakness in the Master-Padawan bonds."

            "Wait.  Wait a minute." Qui-Gon's brow furrowed.  "How many were known to Fall?"

            Tahl tapped her fingers on the datapad in her lap, closing her eyes to consult her own internal databank of memory.  "Five are mentioned specifically.  The records made a big deal of it, and tried to give the impression that it was more, but only five are ever mentioned."

            "Wait a minute," Qui-Gon said again, leaning forward.  "You mean to tell me that the Rule of One was established because five apprentices out of tens of thousands of Jedi fell to the Dark side?"

            Mace stirred uncomfortably.  "Now, Qui-Gon, you know that their logic makes sense.  If just two people are working that closely together, then problems can be seen and solved."

            "Oh, really?  Like it worked with Xanatos?" Qui-Gon realized he was angry, and released some of what he felt to the Force -- but not all of it.  "Tell me honestly -- how many of you really believed that Xan would fail his trials on Telos?"

            Not even Yoda would say yes to that, but he did speak.  "Xanatos, a good Master had.  Made his own decisions, Xanatos did.  Lies with Xanatos, the blame does, for his own path did he walk, his own choice did he make.  If trained in a group, still those decisions he might have made.  Little difference enough did that make, Master Qui-Gon."

            Qui-Gon sighed and nodded.  "You're right.  But at the same time, did those Masters make the right decision a thousand years ago?  We know that our numbers are not even half of what they once were.  We lose many children that, with the right guidance, could be Knights.  Is it right to see them disappear?  Think of our losses," he said, thinking of how he had almost thrown Obi-Wan to the Corps.  "Are we really better off?"

            Yoda tilted his head to one side.  "As Master Windu says:  Maybe, maybe not.  But a discussion for another time, that is.  Changes it would bring, that is for certain!" Yoda cackled, sounding surprisingly delighted.  Then again, Yoda had always loved a challenge.  "Continue please, Master Tahl."

            "Thank you, Master Yoda.  Anyway.  I knew that if we wanted to have a more accurate notion of what we were dealing with in concerns to the Prophecy, I would have to find the original one.  I'm not hoping for the original document -- the original was most likely on Ossus in the library there, and it was devastated during the second Sith War four thousand years ago.  I did manage to get a name out of some of the older archives, ones I suspect might have been rescued from that library just before the cataclysm.  Master Abhin Sal-Tur is the name most associated with the prophecy.  He was one of the survivors of the War, and apparently he was well-known for his Sight.  Either way, I had thought that discovering the original language of the Prophecy as well as finding the originator of said Prophecy would lead me closer to the end of my search."

            "I take it that hasn't been the case," Qui-Gon ventured.

            "Like a speeder bike crashing into a wall," Tahl retorted, crossing her arms.  "The damn trail just ends.  Beyond the Jedi settling on Coruscant, I can't even find records of the Prophecy mentioned by anyone."

            Micah leaned down and rested his hands on his mate's shoulders.  "It's to be another trip out into the field then, love?"

            "Yes, but I'm waiting until the issues with the creche are straightened out.  The more I think about it, the more I think that we'll need all hands, and not all of us are good with children."

            “Agree I do,” Yoda said suddenly, his eyes practically limp, a sure sign of moodiness in the elder Master. 

            Depa bit her lip.  “Even if those children Jill-Hyra sent away are not all Knight material, remember what Padawan Bant told us.  Her friend was sent to the improper location, in spite of her family’s request and the particular abilities she held.  How many more have suffered the same fate?  How lost they must feel!”

            Yarael sighed.  “A valid point, Master Billaba, and one I must agree with.  Lost, I would also feel, if given over to an occupation I little understood.”  The man smiled slightly.  “I would have made a horrible farmer.”

            “So we’re agreed then, that all children sent out to the various Corps under Jill-Hyra should be brought back to the Temple for either proper reassignment—“

            “Or counseling,” Adi said regretfully.  “Considering the fact that we raise the young ones to trust that we will send them where they feel the most useful, some of them will not be very happy with us.”

            “Damn,” Mace said under his breath, knowing she was right.  He looked around at the rest of the Councilors and their assorted co-conspirators.  “We all agree then, that our misappropriated children should return to the Temple as soon as possible?”

            He received eleven official votes of assent before adding his own, as well as Micah’s, Qui-Gon’s, Shaak Ti’s, Tahl’s, Quinlan’s, and the votes of their Padawans, all in favor of.  “Well spoken, people.  Council adjourned.”

            **    **    **    **    **    **    **

            "Freeze!"

            Anakin only wobbled the tiniest bit when Obi-Wan's voice sliced through the air.  Lightsaber extended, one foot half-raised, and his other arm crooked into the air behind him, he went completely still.

            "Now then," Obi-Wan said, and Anakin's eyes tracked him as he walked past.  "Can any of you tell me what he did wrong?"

            The line of Initiates present shuffled their feet, some glancing around curiously to see if anyone was brave enough to venture forth an answer.  Obi-Wan waited patiently, the little half-smile his students both liked and loathed playing about his lips.  To the children Obi-Wan had taught in the past, that smile meant they were about to learn something exceedingly wizard-- or discover a new level of masochism in their instructor.  But the Initiates in this particular group were unfamiliar with Obi-Wan Kenobi, and their experiences with their last instructor had left them cautious.

            "Well, Sia'me?  How about you?"

            Sia'me, a Twi'lek male with dark red skin, paled visibly.  "Uhm..." His partner in line, an older Wookiee girl, elbowed him smartly.  Sia'me immediately straightened up and cleared his throat.  "I didn't notice anything wrong, Master Kenobi," he said, his voice temporarily rising above what seemed to be a typical mumble.

            "You didn't?  Hmmm."  Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin, who merely raised an eyebrow at him in response.  "Anyone else have any thoughts?"

            The Wookiee who had elbowed Sia'me hesitantly growled out an answer.  [He didn't do anything wrong, did he Master Kenobi?]

            Sia'me quickly whispered a translation for the two Initiates in the group who didn't understand Wookiee, and then they all braced themselves.  Up until a week ago, Master Jil-Hyra had taught their class, and wrong answers were punished, usually with garbage detail.  Correct answers didn't fare much better.  A group of talented Initiates turned into quiet little wraiths, Obi-Wan thought angrily.  The more Mace and Adi had investigated Jil-Hyra's charge of the Creche, the angrier he had become.  It had taken work to purge those feelings, and his knees ached more than a little of late from his mediation sessions.

            Let it go, he thought, finding his center again with the barest moment's concentration.  When Mace had offered to let him teach the A.L.T. class until a replacement could be found, he had practically jumped at the chance.  Obi-Wan had always sympathized with children in this age group, probably because of the situation he had once found himself in.  They were all old enough to be Padawans, and others were dangerously close to the cut-off point.  He hoped to repair some of the obvious damage that Jil-Hyra had caused before they lost their chances completely.  Having Anakin along helped -- Anakin knew almost all of the Initiates, and was friends with quite a number of them.  They might fear Obi-Wan, at least for now, but they didn't fear Ani.  And soon enough, as they observed Obi-Wan and Anakin's interactions, they would see that things had changed, and Jill-Hyra was not coming back.

            He turned back to the group and noticed that the Wookiee, Raallandirr, had practically shrank into herself.  Of course, I'm going to make things worse if I keep woolgathering, Obi-Wan berated himself sharply.  He squatted down in front of the Wookiee girl, momentarily admiring her black and silver pelt before he spoke her own tongue.  [Raallandirr.  That's quite a tongue-twister.  Do you go by a shorter name?]

            Whoah, Master, Anakin said, as seven Initiates went wide-eyed in shock. If they were scared of you before, now you've just blown away the entire lot!

            I'd rather have surprise than terror any day, Padawan, Obi-Wan replied.

            Raallandirr blinked, her gray eyes almost dazed in surprise at discovering a human that willingly spoke Shirriwook.  Even among Jedi, a non-Wookiee who knew the language well enough to speak it was an incredible rarity.  [Uh...  Rillian, Master Kenobi.  Most of the smaller ones can't say Raallandirr, so everyone just started calling me Rillian.]

            "Well, Rillian.  Your answer was correct.  Padawan Skywalker didn't do a thing wrong."  Obi-Wan paused, certain that he had everyone's attention.  Curiosity.  So much better.  I was starting to feel like an ogre.  Through the bond, he heard Anakin giggle.  "So if Ani wasn't doing anything wrong, why would I stop him to question all of you?"

            The youngest and smallest of the group, a nimble Zabrakan boy, shyly held up his hand.  "To make us think?  About the kata?"

            "Exactly," Obi-Wan said, smiling.  "Most of you were paying more attention to me than you were to Ani, and that's bad.  Not that you're not allowed your curiosity about the infamous Knight Kenobi," he said teasingly, and managed to elicit a round of hesitant smiles.  "But it's important to learn this kata.  Once you get to the Fifth, it becomes a basis for every kata you learn thereafter.  Learning the Fifth incorrectly will trip you up for the rest of your life."

            "But he's already so good at it," Sia'me said unthinkingly.  He stopped, glancing at Obi-Wan.  When the boy realized that Obi-Wan was only waiting patiently for him to continue, he did so.  "Well, he is.  And I'm older than Ani is.  I don't think I could be that good."

            "Wait'll I hit my first growth spurt," Anakin mumbled.  "I'll try to do the Fifth and fall on my head."

            Rillian, her sensitive ears hearing what others did not, laughed.  [When you do, make sure to let us know.  I want to see the great Padawan Skywalker go down.]

            Anakin looked miffed.  "Sure I'll tell you.  When we're all as old as Master Yoda." 

            Obi-Wan, meanwhile, was silently applauding the fact that Anakin had yet to budge from his held position.  His control was already superb, though he was right -- puberty would certainly knock that down a few notches.  "Move back to first position, Anakin, and wait a moment."  Anakin complied, his movements accurate but still holding the ill-grace of a child.  "Anakin may be very good at the Fifth, but he's also been working with Master Windu in his spare time.  Master Windu is far more demanding than I am."

            "Whoah," the little Zabrack said, and Obi-Wan finally placed his name.  Tuuvino.  "Ani, you are a freak," he said, but his voice was full of admiration.  "Isn't he kind of a grouch?"

            "Nah.  Not really.  We get along pretty