|
|
Mace Windu hurried along the corridors of the Temple's training sector, a fierce scowl painting his features and clearing the path before him. Astonished whispers trailed behind him, like space dust caught up in a comet's gravitational pull.
Mace tried to tell himself that there was nothing to worry about, that Obi-Wan's panicked call was simple youthful over-reaction. He was only nineteen, after all. Still, the Jedi Master's unease continued to flare. He halted before the door leading into one of the hand-to-hand combat training cells, and took a deep cleansing breath. And then another.
Unsure, and not liking the feeling at all, Mace tapped the access panel and stepped into the room as the door swished open. He blinked. He had expected to find Qui-Gon at least writhing in agony, if not dying, from an ill-placed blow.
What he saw was Obi-Wan pacing back and forth, gnawing his lower lip. Qui-Gon sat on the lowest bench of a small set of bleachers, legs stretched out in front of him, both elbows resting on the next bench up, while he stared off into space with a vacant expression. Obi-Wan looked up sharply and scuttled over to greet Mace, his relief rolling off him in waves.
"Thank the Force, you're here, Master Windu," Obi-Wan whispered.
Mace glanced over the padawan's shoulder at the unmoving Jedi, then met Obi-Wan's worried gaze. "How long has he been like that?"
"Close to twenty minutes."
"What's wrong?"
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "She was here. He's been like that ever since. I can't even connect with him through our Force bond."
Puzzlement fogged Mace's thoughts. "She?"
"You mean, you haven't met her?"
"Noooo. I don't think so."
Obi-Wan crossed his arms. "Obviously not."
Vague irritation was starting to build. What was Obi-Wan talking about? This didn't sound like an emergency. "I take it this person is quite ... memorable?"
With a snort, Obi-Wan replied, "Ask him yourself."
The padawan stepped aside and Mace shot him a look of growing impatience. Obi-Wan simply raised an eyebrow and motioned Mace forward. The Jedi Master swept past him.
"Qui-Gon, " Mace said.
No reply.
"Qui-Gon."
Still nothing.
Mace planted his foot on the bench and leaned toward Qui-Gon, forearms resting on his knee. He raised his voice. "Qui-Gon!"
"Not now, Padawan," murmured Qui-Gon.
Straightening, Mace stared at his friend for a few seconds. He reached out and swatted Qui-Gon up the side of the head.
Qui-Gon jerked upright. "Obi-Wan!" He startled, then a grin broke across his face. "Oh. Hi, Mace. What are you doing here?"
Mace started to speak, then clamped his mouth shut. He glanced askance at a rather smug looking Obi-Wan, then finally said, "I was informed that you had suddenly fallen gravely ill."
Surprised filled Qui-Gon's features. "Ill? What kind of a practical joke is Obi-Wan playing on you? I've never felt better."
Both Jedi masters turned to stare at Obi-Wan. He threw up his hands and declared, "He is sick, Master Windu. Look at him. He's, he's mooning around like, like one of the angels of Iego have addled his brain."
Mace let his foot drop to the floor and crossed his arms as he studied his friend. Qui-Gon stared back at him with a wide gaze. "I've obviously been working the boy too hard, Mace. He doesn't --"
"Who is she?" Mace asked.
"Tumarlin Gwint," Obi-Wan replied as Qui-Gon's gaze bounced between the two.
"Not a Jedi," Mace said.
Obi-Wan's reply was emphatic. "No. Thank the Force."
"Padawan!" Qui-Gon's shock filled the word.
Mace held up his hand for silence and met Obi-Wan's shadowed gaze. "You say that like she might contaminate the Temple."
"Contaminate?" Obi-Wan snorted. "Re-decorate, more likely."
Qui-Gon said, "Obi-Wan. That's hardly a fair --"
"Show him, Master," Obi-Wan interrupted. He tugged Qui-Gon to his feet, then clutched Mace's forearm and pointed. "Look."
Mace glanced at Qui-Gon's waist. He did a double-take and shook his head. Qui-Gon's belt was covered by a vibrant green sash, intricately embroidered with pale yellow designs. Incredulity leaked into his words. "What is that?"
Qui-Gon puffed his chest out, just a little. A self-satisfied glint sparked in his eyes. "Lini thinks it gives my outfit some much needed class."
"Class? Class!" Mace felt heat flashing across his cheeks. "What's wrong with the way the outfit looks? And since when did you ever care about how your outfit looked, anyway?"
"Since he met Lini," whispered Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon smiled innocently.
The padawan picked up his master's cloak and tossed it to Mace. He ran his dark fingers over a strip of cloth, the same green as the sash, that rimmed the cuff of the cloak's sleeve. Matching trim decorated the bottom hem. Amazement and understanding flashed through his mind. No wonder Obi-Wan had panicked.
Mace met Qui-Gon's happy gaze and said, "You're in love."
"No. No!" Obi-Wan stamped his foot and flung his arms up, fists clenched. "What a pile of, of bantha poodoo! Don't say that! Don't even think it!"
"Obi-Wan!" snapped Mace. "Calm yourself."
The padawan froze. His hands and head dropped. "I'm sorry, Master. It won't happen again."
Mace patted the young man's shoulder. "It can't be that bad."
Obi-Wan's gaze popped up. Horror filled his eyes and his voice. "It's worse. So much worse."
Mace chuckled. "What happened, Qui-Gon? Did you fall in love with a Sith?"
Qui-Gon laughed. Obi-Wan let loose a low growl and marched away from the two masters. He dropped to a squat a few meters away and held his head with both hands.
Shrugging, Mace said, "You remember what it's like to be nineteen. The smallest thing can seem like a quasar." The two men shared knowing glances. "Tell me how you met this Lini."
"It was quite sweet, really." A quiet harrumph sounded from Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon hesitated, then said, "We were following her down a wide boulevard. She was so piled down with packages that I could hardly tell her hair was blond, never mind that she was a woman."
"Barely. She's the same age as me." Obi-Wan's interruption furrowed Mace's brow.
Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "Never mind that, Padawan. As I was saying, she rounded a corner, right into the path of a Trandoshan celebration parade. You know the way they jump and kick and flail all over the place when they are partying. Well, I snatched her out of the way, and Obi-Wan even managed to save most of her packages."
The padawan's voice was loud. "She was more concerned about some bit of cloth I had failed to rescue than she was about the fact that she'd almost been ripped to pieces."
Qui-Gon frowned. "Lini was going to a party that night. She had bought that new scarf especially for the soiree."
Mace wrinkled his nose. "Soiree?" He eyed his friend warily. "Please continue. This is ... fascinating."
"That's all, Mace. We looked into each other's eyes and ... I knew."
Obi-Wan spun and said, "Eyes had nothing to do with it. You were pressed against each other so tightly as you protected her, that I couldn't have slipped a data disk between you."
One eyebrow quirked. Mace asked, "Is this true, Qui-Gon?"
The Jedi Master's face flushed. "The parade was very violent. I had to shield her."
"And how did Lini react to your protection?" Mace asked.
Obi-Wan blurted, "She twittered."
"Twittered?" Mace repeated.
"She didn't twitter," Qui-Gon said. "It was more of a ... Well, actually, it was ... I'd say it sounded..."
"Like a twitter," Mace said. Chagrin rippled across Qui-Gon's face.
Obi-Wan appeared at Mace's side and grabbed his arm again. "Maybe we could take him to the healers."
"Obi-Wan, you are definitely over-reacting. Just because a young woman twitters, doesn't mean she isn't a perfectly lovely ..." Mace trailed off and frowned.
Excitedly, Obi-Wan said, "He might be suffering from some rare disease. Or, or maybe she injected him with some sort of ... love potion."
"Padawan!" They both turned to face an obviously agitated Qui-Gon. "I am not sick! Or drugged! You are being totally unreasonable. Lini is completely wonderful. And I will prove it to you, Mace. You can meet her. She's at the apartment, waiting for me."
"You gave her the passcode to our apartment? How could you?" Obi-Wan lunged for his cloak. "Who knows what she'll do to the place while we're not there. She'll probably have it painted bright green and have songbirds twittering in the corners."
Obi-Wan charged from the room. A loud clatter followed, along with muttered apologies, then pounding footsteps fading down the hall.
"What's wrong with songbirds?" Qui-Gon asked.
Mace sighed. "Come on, friend. Let's get this over with."
Why was he getting so many odd looks? As they paused by a turbolift, Qui-Gon admired the way the green trim was set off by the brown of the cloak. Lini was right. It was a rather drab garment. Maybe he could go to the Council and suggest a nice powder blue. Lini would like that. Qui-Gon fought to keep the smile that was crinkling his eyes from breaking across his face.
As the turbolift flashed upwards, the smile dropped from his face. What was wrong with Obi-Wan? He was normally such a reasonable boy. Could it be jealousy? A dull throbbing started up behind Qui-Gon's eyes. At least Mace was being his usual unflappable self.
They were several meters from the open door of Qui-Gon's quarters, when Obi-Wan's raging blasted out into the hallway.
"Get it out! All of it! What do you think you're doing? Moving in? This is ... is ...."
The padawan's sputtering cut off as Qui-Gon stepped into the room, Mace right behind him. Obi-Wan straightened, clutching a purple and yellow tye-dye pillow to his stomach. He flushed, threw the pillow into a dura-crate and stepped back. Qui-Gon's gaze was immediately drawn to Lini and he felt the harsh lines carved into his forehead melt.
She stood in the middle of the room, her slender shoulders trembling. Wavy blond hair tumbled over bare deeply-tanned shoulders, and her floral shift clung to her like a second skin. His gaze lingered on her luscious curves for a second before returning to her face. The face of an angel. She turned, large azure eyes glistening, full red lips quivering. At the sight of him, her face lit up.
Daintily, Lini ran to Qui-Gon. "Oh, Qui. Thank goodness you're here. Obi-Wan is being so mean and nasty. All I wanted to do was brighten up your little apartment." She practically threw herself into the Jedi Master's arms. Qui-Gon wrapped her tightly in his embrace and scowled at a decidedly unrepentant Obi-Wan. Since when was Obi-Wan mean? Thought fled when Lini pulled his head down for a long kiss.
She leaned back and sighed. "Oh, my lovely, lovely man." She caressed his biceps. "So wonderfully ... manly." She kissed him again.
"I think I'm going to be sick." Obi-Wan's words splashed over Qui-Gon. He broke the kiss and stepped back, suddenly remembering Mace. He forced the rising heat in his cheeks to retreat.
Qui-Gon turned. Mace was staring at Lini, jaw almost slack. Qui-Gon smiled. Lini had that effect on people. He glanced at Obi-Wan. Well, most people. Just after they'd met, he'd asked Lini why she wasn't starring in holovids. She'd rolled her eyes and made some comment about having to get up at ridiculously early hours to sweat in little make-up cubicles and under glaring lights. She hated sweating.
"Mace?" Qui-Gon asked. Mace shook his head and met Qui-Gon's amused gaze. "This is Lini Gwint. Lini, meet Mace Windu. He's a friend and a member of the Council."
Lini turned a blank expression to Qui-Gon. Suddenly, her eyes cleared. "You explained this to me, didn't you, Qui? Don't tell me. The Council is like the Jedi's senate."
"Sort of," replied Qui-Gon. "Except they don't argue as much as the senate does."
Lini giggled. Qui-Gon felt a sudden flush of pride.
"I love senators," Lini said. "They have soo much power. But I don't really have a clue what they do." Lini twittered. Qui-Gon cringed inwardly.
The young woman sashayed up to Mace and rested her palm on Mace's chest. The dark-skinned Jedi still hadn't spoken, though his eyes glowed as they followed her every move. As she looked up into Mace's face, Qui-Gon felt a deep stab of jealousy. His headache expanded.
As she reached up and stroked the frozen Jedi Master's scalp, Qui-Gon fought the urge to lunge at Mace and dismember him. A hand landed on his shoulder and he felt the calming presence of his padawan.
Lini's voice was low and throaty. "A bald head is so incredibly virile, don't you think?"
"You said my long hair was virile," muttered Qui-Gon. The pressure of Obi-Wan's hand increased.
Lini circled Mace, her hands stroking his shoulders. "I would absolutely love to see your office, Mace. I bet it's higher than, than almost anything in the Temple."
Mace cleared his throat. "Ah, um, sure. I guess." He threw Qui-Gon a look of utter helplessness.
Entwining her arm through his, she smiled up at Mace. As they turned to go, she glanced over her shoulder and said, "Have your little padawan send my things to Mace's apartment, would you, Qui? You're a sweetheart. Bye, bye, Qui."
Qui-Gon stared at the empty doorway. What had just happened? He suddenly sat, Obi-Wan sliding a chair under him before he hit the floor. The love of his life, and she walks out, just like that? With Mace? How could she transfer her affection so, so casually? Qui-Gon sighed.
Obi-Wan shifted and Qui-Gon held up his hand. "Don't say a word, Padawan." He needed a distraction so he didn't chase after them and make an even bigger fool of himself. "Padawan. Could you fix us something to eat?"
"Sure, Master. You, you just relax. It'll be great to see you eat again. You've hardly eaten a bite since you met ..." Obi-Wan trailed off to a few seconds of silence. "Anything in particular?"
Qui-Gon thought for a moment. "Hmmm. That stew you made a week or so ago would be great."
"Coming right up." Obi-Wan hustled into the food prep area and started banging around.
Qui-Gon raised his voice to be heard above the ruckus. "What was that stew anyway? It was delicious. You'll have to have some this time around. Especially since your bottomless pit isn't full to overflowing with three or four dozen pastries."
Obi-Wan's head popped around the corner. "But I won the contest, Master." His head disappeared again. Before Qui-Gon could comment on the poor role models food-stuffing padawans were for the younger initiates, Obi-Wan re-appeared.
"Here we go. My secret ingredient. I found it in a little market I wandered through while you mediated that trade dispute in the central merchants' sector." Obi-Wan paused. "Bothan krill."
"What!" Qui-Gon spun and started to stand. He knocked the chair over and sprawled at Obi-Wan's feet. Scrambling up, he snatched the container from the startled padawan's hand, then stared at the label with growing horror.
It felt like something in his mind snapped, and a never-missed clarity suddenly returned. Qui-Gon sank to the floor with a groan. Obi-Wan dropped to his knees beside him. "What is it, Master?"
"Bothan krill has a chemical that lingers in your system for anywhere from one to four weeks." Qui-Gon pressed his hands over his eyes. "With human physiology, it ... reacts like an aphrodisiac."
Obi-Wan gasped. "Did you say ...?"
"Yes. And it doesn't bear repeating."
"What a relief!"
Qui-Gon jerked his head up and stared at his padawan with total disbelief.
Obi-Wan added, "That means you were drugged. No offense, Master, but it kind of restores my faith in you."
A slow smile grew on Qui-Gon's face. "None taken, Padawan. But if you want to make amends, you can help me take this hideous green trim off my cloak."
"Not a chance." Qui-Gon shot him an annoyed glance. Obi-Wan smirked. "Where would the lesson be in that?"
"The only lesson needed here is a cooking lesson."
Shared laughter rang through the apartment.
Suddenly, Obi-Wan grew serious. "Master? I'm sure Lini will make someone a very fine ... something, someday. But, if you fell for her because you were in an altered state," he said as he quirked one eyebrow, "then what is Master Windu's excuse?"
Qui-Gon smirked. "Lini has the power to throw almost any man into an altered state, Padawan. But I'm sure Mace will snap out of it sooner than I did."
Obi-Wan shuddered. "I hope so, Master. He would look awful in bright green."
