Jedi Apprentice fanfiction

A disturbance in the Force

“I have a bad feeling about this…”

Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn softly whispered his Padawan’s trademark phrase.

Well, the feeling was not exactly bad. Just awkward. Upon closer examination, it wasn’t even a real feeling. Actually, it was more a the lack thereof.

Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master extraordinaire, renowned for his amazing affinity with the Living Force, suddenly felt very much like a snotty Padawan of 9 years old…

The vibrant Force that he could always so effortlessly access, now seemed mute, its usually swirling exotic colours now grey and dull.

It wasn’t a bad feeling in the Force, but the absence of the normal feeling of the Force.

That didn’t make sense at all, did it?

Was that a bead of perspiration that had just rolled down his brow?

Was he developing a fever, perhaps?

Now that he thought of it, he had been feeling decidedly different ever since returning from their lastest mission.

He had got the first suggestion something was slightly off during their customary post-mission briefing before the Jedi Council. He hadn’t dwelled on the feeling there and then, but over the past three days, his unease had grown considerably. He had tried meditating on it, but even that usually so liberating act now seemed unexplainably awkward.

The Force, it seemed, would not provide an answer to his questions - yet.

A vigorous sparring session with Obi-Wan might have provided an excellent opportunity to release and maybe even temporarily forget about the strange feeling, but his padawan had proved to be quite elusive during the past days.

Apparently, Master Yoda had enlisted Obi-Wan’s help with another one of the tiny master’s obscure projects, probably pertaining to the one-day trip the padawans had left for this very morning.

Although Master Yoda busied the term ‘field trip’, Mace Windu preferred the word ‘survival camp’. Then again, it had been Mace who had boosted the survival part during their own ‘field trip’, when he and Qui-Gon had been junior padawans themselves.

Qui-Gon snorted at the very memory of Mace grabbing a liana and swinging skilfully across quite deep a gap, meanwhile roaring impressively. He had, Qui-Gon chuckled silently, screamed even louder and a tad differently when the liana had suddenly broken, dropping the adventurous, overexcited and by then absolutely terrified Padawan into a long, nasty fall.

Of course, at the moment it had not been very funny. But when it turned out Mace had only suffered some broken ribs and a dislocated elbow, not to mention a lot of cuts and bruises and the lowest self-esteem possible, his fellow padawans had taken great pleasure in taunting the unfortunate jungle hero on their way back to the ship.

But not even the fond memories of Mace’s antics could keep his mind of his ‘bad feeling’ for long. It was as if the Force tried to whisper something important to him, but it was just below sensory level.

Qui-Gon let out a frustrated sigh.

Then, he mentally berated himself (for what had to be the fourth time in the last hour alone) to take his own often uttered admonishing to heart: Don’t centre on your anxieties, keep your concentration here and now where it belongs…”

Force knows, maybe if he repeated it enough times, he might start to believe it himself…

Later that day, after yet another futile attempt at full meditation in one of the Temple gardens, he bumped into his elusive apprentice… literally.

It is a well-known law in physics that energy is always conserved. In this case, most of the energy that had come from a young body at full speed was returned to said body, causing it to bounce back and tumble to the floor.

“Oof…”

“Padawan?” Qui-Gon’s voice was serene as ever, but Obi-Wan could glimpse a little annoyance in those stern blue eyes.

“Master.” Obi-Wan replied neutrally after scrambling stiffly back to his feet, wincing a little as he did so. “I’m very sorry for running in to you.”

“Which part of the Temple is on fire?” Qui-Gon inquired deadpan.

“Master?” The Padawan looked nonplussed.

“Why are you running as if a herd of bantha’s is chasing you?” Qui-Gon said, perhaps a bit too sharp. He was already on edge because of the bad feeling and acquiring some bruises did nothing to calm him down.

Slightly impatient, the Master reached over their training bond to better gauge the air of jitteriness around his apprentice.

It was like slamming headlong into a brick wall. Well make that durasteel. Triply reinforced.

“That’s quite some heavy-duty shielding you have put up there, Padawan…” He peered intently into his Padawan’s green-blue eyes.

No matter how hard Obi-Wan blocked his mind, no matter how talented he was in keeping an expressionless face and impassive voice, those expressive eyes always betrayed him to his master. And what they told of now startled Qui-Gon. Guilt. The boy felt guilty and uneasy, although he was hiding it admirably.

“Very well…” Qui-Gon sighed. “What did you do this time?”

The brief flash of hurt in green-blue eyes should have alerted the Master, but at that time Qui-Gon only felt increasingly grouchy.

“Come on, speak up, boy!” He stood up straight, his arms akimbo, inadvertently and unknowingly creating a very imposing stance.

Obi-Wan gulped audibly. “I… I can’t tell you, Master…”

One of Qui-Gon’s eyebrows quirked.

In a mere whisper, Obi-Wan said: “I’m sorry, Master, but please don’t order me to tell you…”

Qui-Gon’s other eyebrow joined the first. Obi-Wan would tell him if he ordered him to; the boy could not disobey a direct command from his Master. But the heavy shielding and the reluctance to speak up convinced Qui-Gon that this matter should preferably be discussed within the privacy of their quarters.

Suddenly a voice spoke up from behind Qui-Gon.

“ I know what Oafy… Obi-Wan did!”

It was another Padawan, Bruck Chun if Qui-Gon’s memory served him right, and he looked decidedly smug.

Obi-Wan tried to give the other boy a death-glare without his Master noticing. Unfortunately, it was intercepted by Qui-Gon, who send back a silent frown of his own that plainly told his apprentice he would be in so much trouble for this.

“Well, please enlighten me, Padawan Chun.” Qui-Gon answered politely.

“Well, Master Jinn,…” Bruck drawled, very pleased with himself “He provoked a fight with a fellow Padawan, and then –after hurting the other- he just ran off, leaving the other lying there…”

Qui-Gon was extremely irritated now, though he was not entirely sure if it was because of his bad feeling, his padawan’s alleged actions or Bruck’s far too smug face. He favoured his Padawan with one of his sternest stares, causing the boy to cower slightly in anticipation of his punishment.

Yet Qui-Gon did not realise that having disappointed his Master by itself was a far more severe punishment for his insecure Padawan than any amount of dull chores, meditation exercises or ground arrest could ever be. Obi-Wan saw the disappointment clearly written in his master’s tired blue eyes, and he felt less than 1 inch tall. His heart constricted painfully.

“Is that true, Padawan?” Qui-Gon said softly.

Obi-Wan seemed to hesitate a bit at first, and this only made Qui-Gon more certain he had to be severely punished. One does not purposefully injure a fellow padawan, never mind even considering to lie to their master… At least, if Bruck’s story was true. He was still willing to give Obi-Wan the advantage of the doubt.

His padawan’s eyes peered up at him from under his lashes, usually of vibrant green and blue hues, now a murky grey, hurt and sadness swirling within their depths.

Qui-Gon suddenly felt as if he had kicked a puppy and his heart mellowed somewhat.

“It’s true. I am sorry, Master…” Obi-Wan whispered and lowered his eyes to stare intently at the tips of his boots.

The icy wall around Qui-Gon’s heart slammed back full force.

“Go back to our quarters and clean them thoroughly… And no cleaning droids! Then you will meditate on this. I don’t want to see you again before tomorrow morning.”

Obi-Wan winced, but not because of the physical punishment. He would gladly have cleaned the entire temple if it would have avoidede Master Qui-Gon being disappointed with him.

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan bowed formally to his master and Bruck, the latter watching ever so gleefully, and quickly left for their quarters, feeling as he though was dragging along a great heavy stone in his stomach.

“Well, good evening, Master Jinn…” Bruck also took his leave.

“Good evening…” Qui-Gon mumbled distractedly as he tried to catch another glimpse of his apprentice.

Had the boy just limped away?

But his padawan had already disappeared around a corner and the stray thought soon fled with him.

The second time Qui-Gon bumped into someone, scant minutes later in the meditation gardens (yet again, he was going to take root there soon), he himself took the brunt of the impact. Only this time, it was a mental rather than a physical shock.

“A heavy thing, on your mind you have.”

Qui-Gon nearly leapt out of his skin as a familiar crackling voice whispered somewhere near his knees.

“Master Yoda…”

The little green Jedi Master grinned briefly (a terrifying sight which send two nearby initiates running away) at the bewildered look on Qui-Gon’s face.

“Feel me coming, you did not, hmm?” he hummed contently.

Qui-Gon shook his head, wondering how he could have been immersed in his own thoughts so deeply that he hadn’t even noticed the Force’s warning that someone was sneaking up on him. Or perhaps, more worrisome, could this lack of awareness be attributed to his newfound problem connecting properly with the Force?

Ears twitching as he assessed the man before (and above) him, Yoda’s green eyes lost their humour and he continued in a serious tone. “Disturbed, your mind is.”

The tall Jedi Master lowered himself onto the ground next to Yoda, respectfully sitting on one knee to level his eyes with the diminutive Master’s.

“Yes, Master Yoda. In fact, I have been feeling somewhat… off… for the past few days. I…” Qui-Gon, one of the greatest negotiators across the galaxy, who could talk circles even around politicians, mentally slapped himself for his sudden, utterly ridiculous, lack of eloquence. Still, valiantly, he ploughed on, trying to make sense of the jumble in his head.

“Ever since we’ve returned from our latest mission to Wayasay, I have trouble fully connecting to the Force.” He stroke his beard pensively. “It feels a little like being under mild Force-suppressants, but much more subtly… And still, the Force does not seem to be warning me, does not seem to think that this is a bad situation…”

Yoda hummed, but otherwise remained quietly attentive, encouraging the other to mull over the situation completely before imparting his usual highly-esteemed and highly-cryptic words of wisdom. After having lived for centuries, allowing one’s conversation partner a few additional minutes must hardly register.

Qui-Gon, calmed by the serene presence by his side (or rather, right in front of his nose), browsed his thoughts for any other bit of useful information… And suddenly stood up as one more idea clicked into place.

“Obi-Wan!”

Yoda’s ears perked up, his eyes narrowed and if Qui-Gon didn’t know any better, he would have sworn the old serene master fidgeted a little.

But Qui-Gon was too focussed on his latest revelation to pay much attention to the tiny master any more.

“Obi-Wan had problems focussing in his meditation yesterday, too. Ever since we’ve returned, actually… It must have been something that happened to us on Wayasay… A sickness, maybe…” He remembered hitting his padawan’s heavy-duty shielding a little while ago, and another piece of the puzzle seemed to fall into place. Quite fondly, he muttered. “And Obi-Wan must be trying to shield his discomfort from me, as he does with annoying frequency whenever he’s injured or feeling ill...”

Suddenly, in a stroke of brilliance, Qui-Gon saw the metaphorical light. “The Gobarmee fruit!” He exclaimed, perhaps a tad too loud, since it chased away three more initiates that had up till then braved the presence of the two Jedi masters during their failing meditation attempts.

“It’s known to cause strange allergic reaction in humans. They must have served us some inadvertently…” Qui-Gon continued his line of thought.

A wide grin flashed so briefly over Yoda’s wrinkled face that Qui-Gon was sure it had been his imagination. Venerable highly esteemed Masters of the Jedi Counsel do not customarily sport ear-splitting grins after all.

The last remaining initiate decided that ‘no emotion but peace’ was vastly overrated when confronted with these two weirdly acting masters and she, too, ran away as if being chased by a Sith.

The Force called out a warning to Qui-Gon, but alas, too late. The sharp rap of Yoda’s walking stick against his shin dispelled his lastest reverie about the frightening combination of grins and small green trolls.

“Master Yoda?” Qui-Gon said nonplussed.

“Silly, that idea is. Disturb the healers with it, you will not! Send Obi-Wan to me, you will, when see him you do.” Yoda stated with an air of finality.

“Well, Master, I don’t think th…”

Rap…

Sith, that gimmer stick surely had hit its mark there, Qui-Gon inwardly groaned as his other shin now smarted as well.

“Of course, Master…” Gui-Gon admitted defeat, no so graciously, since he was inwardly quite upset at the ease with which the little troll had swept away his, and his padawan’s, health concerns.

“Resolve itself, this… uhum… problem in time will. Hmmm! In the Force, you should trust!” Yoda said sternly, in a tone that made Qui-Gon, despite his impressive height, suddenly feel very much like a wayward little initiate.

“Let go off your unease, you must, Master Qui-Gon.”

“I’ll try, Master Yoda.” Qui-Gon tried very hard to sound sufficiently contrite to avoid another bruise.

“Do or do not, there is no try!”

And with his most famous repartee resounding in his Grand-Padawan’s ears (and another imprint of his stick on said Grand-Padawan’s shin), the little green master limped off just a tad too fast for the “old feeble troll that has to rely heavily on a walking stick” act to be entirely plausible.

And was that a gleeful cackle, smothered not entirely successfully?

Had Mace ‘incidentally’ spiced up the refectory food again? But then again, the last time that had happened was already several decades ago, before he had been offered a seat on the Jedi Counsel.

Qui-Gon shook his head in a physical yet futile attempt to clear his head. The talk with his Grand-Master had appeased some of his anxieties. Yoda was probably the strongest Force-sensitive being currently alive, and even if the infuriating little troll tended to be more than a little enigmatic from time to time, Qui-Gon did highly respect his opinion regarding Force-related issues. Some feelings of unease were still lingering in the back of his mind, however, and suddenly flared up again into a blazing bonfire as Qui-Gon turned a corner.

I surely must be hallucinating now. He told himself warily. Did I just see highly esteemed Council member Mace Windu dart round a corner dressed in a frilly pink dress...!?

By the time Qui-Gon had reached his quarters, now for 95% convinced that the pink-dressed Mace had been a figment of his imagination, he was once again the epitome of the serene Jedi master, perfectly in control of his emotions. Or so he told himself.

There was still a small voice nagging in the back of his mind, but he managed to ignore it fairly well.

When he palmed open the door, he found that their living quarters were uncommonly clean. It felt a little disconcerting not to find the usual small clutter that identified the room as theirs from the hundreds of identical apartments in the Temple.

Obi-Wan had clearly heeded his earlier words, to clean up their quarters, but (as was his wont, Qui-Gon sighed with an equal measure of exasperation and fondness) had overdone it in his desire to please his master. Instead of the dusting and sweeping Qui-Gon had envisioned, Obi-Wan had apparently also washed out the cabinets and neatly stacked all their possessions out of sight. Qui-Gon even suspected his padawan was currently cleaning up his own room, judging from the sounds that drifted from the partially open bedroom door. Given that room’s seemingly perpetual state of ‘organized’ clutter (which usually prevented Qui-Gon from entering lest he’d lost his way), that was a truly daunting task.

One that his apprentice should not be undertaking when possibly ill…

When he carefully, mindful of colliding objects, pushed open Obi-Wan’s door a little further, the words that had been on his lips died a silent death.

Instead, in his surprise, he stated the first thing coming to his mind. “Padawan, I can actually see your room now!”

The sudden exclamation startled Obi-Wan, who had been wriggling under the sleep couch to retrieve some elusive item.

Qui-Gon winced at the impressive sound his apprentice’s skull made when connecting harshly with the couch’s underside, feeling guilty for startling the boy.

Normally, Obi-Wan would have sensed his master’s approach through the Force, but apparently Qui-Gon wasn’t the only one having trouble connecting to the mysterious entity.

By now, he was sorely tempted to ignore Master Yoda’s advice against visiting the healers.

“Master” Obi-Wan whispered as he quickly stood up.

Too quickly apparently, for his legs buckled from under him and only Qui-Gon’s Jedi-reflexes kept his charge’s head from acquiring yet another bruise.

“Easy, Padawan.” He said as he gently lowered the boy into a sitting position on the sleep couch.

His attempt to scan the boy’s injury through the force was met with the equivalent of bumping his own head into a wall. The same triply reinforced durasteel one he had met before in the hallway, although it was clearly starting to show cracks under the strain.

One hefty push on Qui-Gon’s part would be the undoing of the boy’s shields, but he decided to take more gentle measures to assess his padawan’s health. After all, his behaviour toward his pupil today had been harsh enough already.

Obi-Wan winced briefly when Qui-Gon’s searching fingers made contact with the impressive, and still swelling lump on the back of his head.

“Sit tight, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon admonished before he briefly left to get an icepack and some bacta from their well-stocked medical kit.

While tending to the head injury, his leg inadvertently bumped into Obi-Wan’s left knee. Any lesser perceptive being would have missed the slight and expertly disguised flinch the brief contact elicited, but Qui-Gon was by now acutely aware of his hurt, and possibly ill, padawan, searching for any plausible excuse to cart the young man off to the healers.

“Obi-Wan.” His voice was deceptively calm, unlike his mind. “What happened to your leg?”

Obi-Wan, who had been somewhat uncomfortable before, now sagged down in a puddle of downright misery as his master pulled up his pant leg to reveal a nastily bruised and swollen knee.

“I’m sorry, Master.” He said, eyes downcast and hands twisting nervously in his lap. “I shouldn’t have fought Bruck’s friend. It’s all my fault… I will do any punishment you see fit.”

“I think you’ve already done more than your fair share of punishment, Padawan.” Qui-Gon’s voice was warm and compassionate, which visibly startled Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon’s gaze captured his apprentice’s wide open ever-changing eyes. They were still a dull grey, without a trace the vivacious green and blue colours that were usually capable of charming even the coldest of hearts.

Qui-Gon recognized pain in them, mostly mental anguish and worry about his master’s reaction. It stabbed him straight in the heart.

And with an almost physical jolt, Qui-Gon fully realised how cold and uncaring he had carried himself earlier that day, when he had punished his apprentice without even getting to the bottom of the situation. How often had he not admonished Obi-Wan to listen to both sides of any conflict in order to be a good negotiator?

Moreover, how could he have reacted this way when his padawan may very well be ill due to that infernal Gobarmee fruit, too? And, great Force, how could he not have paid attention to his pupil’s wincing and limping that should have screamed at him that the boy was injured?

Qui-Gon could try to sooth his conscience by arguing that he had been distracted and annoyed by the disturbance in his connection to the Force, but that was no valid excuse.

“Oh, my Obi-Wan.” He murmured as he enveloped the boy in a gentle hug.

However stiff and awkward at first, Obi-Wan slowly relaxed into the embrace and even tentatively hugged his usually inapproachable looking master back.

As he enjoyed the warmth, physically and even more so emotionally, Qui-Gon mentally cursed himself for being so distant all the time. Contrary to popular belief, he was not born with a strong (or as some termed it, ‘pathological’) aversion to close physical or emotional contact. Life had simply created him this way, by taking away the things that had been closest to his heart…

The icy barriers he had constructed around himself had been meant to protect him from further heartbreak, yet had only served to make him more miserable. Those barriers had been thawing steadily ever since Obi-Wan’s bright presence had come into his life, and Qui-Gon only now fully realised he would not have had it any other way.

“I’m the one who is sorry, Obi.” He whispered into the mussed up redblond hair, using the nickname he unconsciously reserved for their most intimate moments, the number of which Qui-Gon could have easily counted on his fingers.

The boy squirmed a little to meet his gaze, but otherwise did not attempt to leave his comfortable place in his master’s arms. Surprise was clearly present in his eyes, inside of which –Qui-Gon was pleased to see- the colourless grey was fading away into a sparkling blue.

“Earlier, in the hallway, I acted without much consideration. I should have taken the time to listen to your side of the full story.” By placing an accent on ‘full’ he wanted to let the boy know that he trusted his own padawan’s version more than that of any stranger. And suddenly, he couldn’t recall why he had ever been so sure Obi-Wan had been the culprit, the one deserving of the punishment.

“I think there is more to this story than meets the eye, am I right, Padawan?” He brushed lightly against his apprentice’s mental shields, unobtrusively inviting the boy to let him in and show him what really happened.

Obi-Wan squirmed a little as his already strained defences trembled and shook at the light touch, but he didn’t allow them to fall as Qui-Gon had fully expected.

“I’m really very sorry, Master.” He said as he bit his lip and fidgeted nervously. “But I can’t tell you everything…” His blue eyes, however, didn’t break his gaze with his master, which Qui-Gon took to be a good sign. Perhaps, in the past, he might have seen this as an act of defiance, but now he realised it was the boy’s way to trust him, to show him there was no lie in his eyes as he continued.

“Not yet, anyway. I can’t really tell because… someone else is involved, and I made a promise regarding this person too… Please, don’t make me break that promise, Master! I swear I will tell you everything as soon as I can…”

The heartfelt plea moved Qui-Gon in the depth of his heart, and another chunk of broken ice crumbled and melted away. Both the Force and Obi-Wan’s eyes attested to the sincerity of the boy’s claim. He knew that his apprentice would tell him, despite his promise, should his master formally order him to. Obi-Wan’s foremost loyalty had always belonged to Qui-Gon, which was a truly humbling thought.

“Don’t worry, my Obi-Wan, I will not order you to tell me before you are ready. Just tell me what you’re comfortable with?” His soft questioning tone clearly indicated that it was a suggestion, not a request.

The boy sighed in relief and once again relaxed against Qui-Gon.

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan nodded, content to keep snuggled against his master as he told his version of the confrontation.

“I was in the meditation gardens, with this… ehm other person, discussing… something important.”

Obi-Wan shot him an apologetic sideways glance, uncomfortable with the vague start, but Qui-Gon encouraged him with a small smile to go on.

“When we parted, the other made me solemnly promise not to tell a word about that meeting. I just talked to… that person… again a little while ago, on the comm …And, given my … ahem… current situation, … that person said it was okay to tell you about the meeting in itself, but not about its content.”

Obi-Wan sighed, obviously having a hard time keeping track of his words, making sure he didn’t incidentally give something away.

“After he…, oops…, well, I suppose his gender won’t give it away…” The boy looked quite uncomfortable, and Qui-Gon fondly thought of the fierceness with which his pupil kept his promises. Once, his head-strong padawan had nearly died rather than breaking one.

“Anyway.” Obi-Wan continued. “Just after he left the meditation gardens, I ran into Aalto and Bruck…”

The boy peered up at his master, silent mirth in his eyes as he clarified. “And you can take that literally, Master: I ran into Aalto about as clumsily and inattentively as I ran into you a little while later.”

He immediately looked contrite and his voice was sad as he continued. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to hurt Aalto. I should have paid more attention to my surroundings, but my thoughts were still too focussed on… the conversation I had in the meditation gardens. I know it’s no excuse; I should always be mindful of my surroundings, and I promise to do better next time, Master.”

The remorse and anguish at having failed his master’s teachings were plainly visible in those vibrant blue eyes. But, as far as said master was concerned, they were not entirely warranted.

“Don’t worry so much, Obi-Wan. You are only a padawan still, you are allowed to slip up from time to time. Even experience Jedi Masters can get so lost in thought they are no longer mindful enough of their surroundings.”

Obi-Wan, ever perceptive, caught the humorous lilt in Qui-Gon’s voice and interpreted it correctly.

“You ran into someone too?”

“Now, don’t get cheeky, Padawan.” Qui-Gon said mock-sternly, but this time, the boy was relaxed enough to see through the ruse. “But yes, I collided with you, didn’t I? Don’t you think I could have stepped away in time if I had been mindful enough?”

Obi-Wan cocked his head to the side and agreed “I suppose so...” And Qui-Gon suddenly realised that the boy had thought earlier that his master had purposefully not stepped away, allowing the collision and hence providing his apprentice with a painful lesson to pay more attention the next time.

“Ah, my poor misguided Padawan, please believe me when I’m telling you I would have tried to step away, had I only been paying more attention. It’s my duty to teach you, yes, but never would I purposefully hurt you in the process.” Except mentally hurt him with your cold uncaring attitude, of course, a little voice in the back of Qui-Gon’s mind whispered.

Obi-Wan’s smile was a little tremulous, and Qui-Gon gave the boy another hug. An unusual gesture coming from the large jedi, but it was the way he felt least uncomfortable with for expressing his love for his padawan.

“So, you ran into Aalto, who dramatized the whole incident, claiming to be hurt more seriously than he was in reality, … and Bruck got angry.” Qui-Gon attempted to divine the rest.

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan nodded. “I’m quite sure he was not injured badly. At the last possible moment, I tried to turn away and so I didn’t hit Aalto full force…”

“And your own knee got hit in the process, instead…” Qui-Gon didn’t need his apprentice’s quiet nod of acquiescence. By now (about time too, the little voice reminded him sharply) he had a pretty good idea of how the confrontation had played out.

Only one more thing. “How did you respond to Bruck and his friend?”

He peered intently in his padawan’s eyes, searching for any flicker of a lie, but none came as Obi-Wan replied quietly. “I tried to apologize to them, tried to tell them it was an accident and I hadn’t meant to upset them… But Bruck didn’t listen. He said he wanted to fight me, to revenge the hurt I’d caused to his friend. He took out his ‘saber, so I really had no choice…”

Qui-Gon could certainly sympathize to some extent. Faced with such a situation, one would practically be forced to defend oneself. And once engaged in such a provoked fight, young boys tended to let their adrenaline flow rather than the Force…

But Obi-Wan’s next words caught him completely off guard “I ran away… I know it’s not very jedi-like, to run away from one’s problems. But I really saw no other option…”

Obi-Wan stared a little nonplussed at the first full-blown smile he had ever seen on Qui-Gon Jinn’s face.

“But you did very well, little one. Sometimes, when tempers are simply too hot, backing off is the best solution. Like this time. Had you not ‘ran off’, they would have had some real hurts to nurse, rather than a bruised ego.”

The implicit suggestion that Qui-Gon considered his padawan skilled enough to get through their ‘saber defences, even though they outnumbered him two to one, caused a clearly visible spark of joy in Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“So, Bruck probably overheard your promise to this… other person… in the meditation gardens and knowing you couldn’t tell me the truth, he took advantage of that to.. ahem… rephrase the situation to discredit you with me…” Qui-Gon sighed.

“I’m sorry, Padawan, for not being willing to trust you before. I know you are a good and kind person, and will become a better man than I can ever hope to be… I’m afraid I haven’t been a very good master to you.” He continued quietly, apologetically..

Obi-Wan instantly sat up, eyes bright and shining with devotion and love. “Oh, no, master!” He shook his head. “You are the very best Master I could possibly have wished for!” The repartee was delivered with the undeniable certainty and naivety of young children that have never before had their dreams shattered, but it rang loud and true in the Force and deeply touched the old master.

And Qui-Gon, stoic asocial Jedi master Qui-Gon Jinn, suddenly grinned and attacked his unsuspecting apprentice, all thoughts of his hurtful past and the Gobarmee illness temporarily forgotten.

He was pleasantly surprised to find out that Obi-Wan was even more ticklish than Mace.

And that the boy’s light laughter did more to sooth his frayed nerves than any meditation session ever had.

Early the next day, immediately upon opening his eyes, Qui-Gon experienced another unusual feeling, though he couldn’t possibly classify this one as bad.

Someone had taped a painted drawing to the ceiling, directly over his bed, surrounded by brightly coloured letters that spelled the words ‘Happy Birthday!’.

They had Obi-Wan’s Force signature all over them.

Bemused, Qui-Gon studied the artwork.

The boy had obviously put quite some time and effort into drawing the letters himself. Closer inspection revealed that each letter incorporated a particular item that held a special place in Qui-Gon’s life. He recognized his old yet favourite tea mug in the ‘D’, a funny-looking hat-like decoration he had once been gifted with (and hadn’t dared throw out) in the ‘A’, a rare flower he had spent a month nursing back to health in the ‘Y’…

He grinned widely when he recognized the face in one of the ‘P’s: a cartoon-version of his widely smiling padawan, with his braid dangling from the right.

Touched, and pleased at the happy memories such seemingly mundane objects provoked, Qui-Gon indulged in the luxury of staying in bed for a few more minutes to study the drawing that had received the place of honour in the middle. Next to the flashy bright letters, its tranquillity in soft pastel colours stood out even more.

He recognized the setting immediately. Even though Obi-Wan himself had never been there, he had heard Qui-Gon’s descriptions and had apparently done some research on the native fauna and flora. Though the painted landscape was entirely fictitious, its resemblance to the vistas Qui-Gon had seen and greatly admired was uncanny.

It was a beautiful rendering of a hidden valley crossed by the River of Light on Qui-Gon’s home world. To the left, the River fell into the painting from an impressive waterfall, and within the mist created by the cascading water played a faint rainbow. A dawning sun casted everything in a soft light, lending the painting a dream-like atmosphere.

And in the background, shadows against the bright sun, stood 2 figures watching side by side, the tall one with a hand on the shoulder of the child-sized shadow, their cloaks caught in a soft breeze.

Although the painting did not allow the casual onlooker to identify of the two shadowy shapes, Qui-Gon had no doubt who the painter had had in mind when he drew them.

He had told his padawan a few times of his home world, where the natives occasionally braved the dense forests to visit these hidden places in the hopes of glimpsing a rainbow in the River, which was believed to bring good luck and blessings to the family.

It was a beautiful, thoughtful gift on behalf of his padawan, who knew that Qui-Gon cared little for the expensive material things most people thought made up the perfect birthday present.

Rather, Obi-Wan had given him his time, effort and creativity to express his best wishes.

Qui-Gon was truly, deeply sorry they hadn’t celebrated any birthdays last year. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t had a proper birthday for the past six years of so. Come to think of it, how had Obi-Wan figured out that today was the celebration of his birth?

Nevertheless, it already was one of the best birthdays in his life.

A small smile still playing on his lips, Qui-Gon walked into the common room. To his surprise, he found his apprentice, who usually didn’t get up before the sun did, already up and making breakfast for them, as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as the idiom goes.

“Happy birthday, Master!” Obi-Wan smiled almost as impossibly wide as his cartoon-version stuck to Qui-Gon’s ceiling as he hugged his master.

For a moment, Qui-Gon was too surprised to react properly. Only when Obi-Wan started to pull back, an uncertain look in his eyes, did Qui-Gon regain his senses and pulled the boy back into a firm hug.

Surely a record for Qui-Gon Jinn. He had given his apprentice more hugs in the past 24 hours than in the past half year...

“Thank you very much, Obi-Wan..” He said with feeling, his voice a little rough. “Your artwork in my bedroom... It’s truly beautiful!”

“You’re welcome.” A little flustered, Obi-Wan turned back to the kitchen counter to fetch the tea he had started preparing as soon as he had felt his master awaking through their bond.

“I didn’t know you drew, never mind this skilfully.” Qui-Gon remarked casually as he accepted his favourite tea mug and settled beside his apprentice to eat breakfast.

And, until recently, he ruefully had to admit to himself, he wouldn’t have cared much for his apprentice’s hobbies, at least as long as they did nothing to interfere with his lessons.

“It’s just a bit of doodling I’ve been enjoying ever since I was a little initiate.” Obi-Wan was downplaying his talent, as usual, but before Qui-Gon could correct him and state that no sentient being would call his work ‘doodling’, the comm unit beeped.

Saved by the comm, Qui-Gon grinned quietly as he watched his flustered apprentice hurriedly take the call.

The grin was replaced by a silent groan as soon as he recognized the caller’s peculiar syntax. Yoda.

After having kept Obi-Wan busy for hours the past days, possibly discussing the survival –ahem- field trip, Qui-Gon had hoped they had now reached the end of the green troll’s monopolising of his student. Particularly since it was his birthday today, a date Yoda was supposed to know…

Ever since he’d seen Obi-Wan’s wake-up message, he had been entertaining vague ideas about taking his apprentice on a rare day out, perhaps even to visit the new aviation museum that was the current hot topic among the junior padawans. It would be a perfect opportunity for strengthening their bond, taking advantage of his birthday as a good excuse to be less strict for a day.

“Master, I...” Obi-Wan had switched off the comm.

“Need to go see Master Yoda, right after breakfast.” Qui-Gon finished the sentence with a small sigh.

So much for seeing that new model Star Speeder today…

“Tell him he’s not getting you. He’s had his chance to take you as his padawan learner.”

The boy stared back at him wide-eyed.

Qui-Gon felt a pang of guilt when he realised that the boy was not sure whether his master had made a joke.

Had he been that serious all the time…

“I wouldn’t give up on you for the universe, my Padawan.”

Qui-Gon smiled softly, and Obi-Wan let out a little giggle, endearingly child-like, breaking the awkward moment.

The rest of their breakfast was a spent in a pleasant relaxed atmosphere, with mostly Obi-Wan talking and Qui-Gon listening attentively to irrelevant anecdotes of temple life which any non-Jedi would term ‘gossip’.

Usually, such trivial matters would not have caught the Jedi Master’s interest. But he was in a rare good mood, and Obi-Wan turned out to be quite a talent in re-enacting when sufficiently at ease.

To Qui-Gon’s quiet pleasure, the boy was not prone to black-mouthing or exaggerating. The Master discovered that his padawan could put a great deal of expressiveness in his voice and face, and almost doubled up at Obi-Wan’s imitation of Mace Windu.

Qui-Gon was sorry to see his apprentice leave soon thereafter for Yoda’s, after promising to be back in time to prepare his master some lunch.

Leaving Qui-Gon to ponder where in the seven pits of Sith hell Obi-Wan had suddenly acquired any cooking skills Qui-Gon was willing to wait for...

Nevertheless, Qui-Gon waited with preparing dinner, only slightly disgruntled when his apprentice arrived half an hour late, and completely out of breath.

“Took... a bit longer... than expected..., I’m sorry, ... Master.” Obi-Wan wheezed. “But we can eat somewhere else, so that’ll spare us some time…”

Yet, his infuriating apprentice refused to tell where this elusive ‘other place’ was.

The Force whispered something to Qui-Gon, but –just as during the past few days- he didn’t understand its meaning.

Briefly, his unease returned full force and thoughts of the Gobarmee fruit temporarily clouded his happy birthday mood.

Yet the presence of his bright and eager apprentice, who was almost skipping along, clearly not ill, did much to appease his worries.

Then, Obi-Wan turned into a little used corridor and palmed open a door.

As he peered inside, full realisation hit Qui-Gon.

At the same time, the veils dropped and the Force was completely restored to him, and he couldn’t shake off the ridiculous feeling that it was currently laughing a little at his expense.

It took all his experience and a great deal of effort to keep the blood from rushing to his face. Thankfully, the Force helped him, granting him at least the satisfaction of not looking like overripe muja fruit.

Then, someone (Qui-Gon strongly suspected it had been Mace) started singing, immediately followed by many other voices, in a choir that was not quite synchronized and slightly off-key.

“Happy Birthday to you... Happy Birthday to you... Happy Birthday to Qui/Qui-Gon/Master Jinn” (the latter term depending on the singer, adding to the cacophony and causing quite some laughter, which did nothing to increase the harmony of the remainder of the song). “... Happy birthday to you!”

A cake was produced seemingly out of nowhere, festively topped with old-fashioned little candles.

“Hip, hip!” Mace (who else?) shouted.

“Hurrah!” The rest of the mismatched choir responded.

Qui-Gon spotted many of his old friends among them, all dressed up in a variety of costumes. Upon closer examination, he realised that they were dressed as characters from the adventure stories that had been his favourite as a young initiate.

He wondered exactly how his padawan had managed to get this all together.

For there was no doubt in Qui-Gon’s mind that his padawan was to blamed (or thanked, depending on the next hour) for this.

The Force, once again playing around him with its usual swirling exotic colours, told him so. The boy had somehow managed to shield the party preparations, undoubtedly aided by a certain meddlesome green troll who had been spending a suspiciously great amount of time with his apprentice

Qui-Gon suddenly realised the room had gone silent, and at least 20 pairs of eyes were carefully examining his every expression.

Suddenly, he recognized the vivid pink dress Tahl was wearing as the one he had thought he had hallucinated yesterday on Mace.

Before he could mull over this strange phenomenon any further, he caught her green and golden eyes glittering in amusement, then subtly shifting and directing him to Obi-Wan. His apprentice was nervously wringing his hands, not even conscious of the gesture as he warily regarded his master like a prey a potential lethal predator.

The boy was clearly unsure, afraid he had done something wrong, not having expected the stoic reaction of his master after their easy banter this morning.

By nature, Qui-Gon certainly was not one to entertain the thought of such lavish birthday celebrations, but he had to admit the gesture, the effort in itself, pleased him greatly. With a pang he remembered the only birthday gift he had bestowed on his padawan had been a rock...

“Oh, my Padawan.” He said, crouching in front of the anxious boy, and everyone studiously ignored the slight roughness in his voice. “Thank you, Obi-Wan.”

He decided his voice would probably not support any further talk at the moment, so he hugged the boy instead, pretending to be deaf to the ‘aaaws’ around him.

Obi-Wan squeezed back briefly, and Qui-Gon noticed with a grin that his pupil was apparently not particularly fond of being hugged in public.

Ruffling his padawan’s hair for extra embaressement, he then turned to the gathered crowd, who had started to relax visibly as well.

Had they all been so afraid of the great Qui-Gon Jinn’s rejection of their efforts?

“Thank you, all of you, too.” He said, pleased to discover his voice was back to its usual steady timbre.

“Now, if I remember this correctly, and it has been some time so feel free to help an old man...” Predictably this garnered some sniggers and a ‘hear, hear’ from a certain dark-skinned council member, which Qui-Gon ignored with an ease born from years of diplomatic missions. “... It’s time to eat the cake...”

He bend over the cake, just in time remembering to rescue his long hair from burning to crisp as he blew out the candles. Slightly cheating with the Force to make sure all candles (how many had they managed to fit on there anyway?) went out at the first try.

He grinned at the resulting cheering and winked at his padawan, whom he promptly handed the very first piece of cake.

“It’s not exactly a good example of nutritional standards for growing teenagers we are setting here today...” He deadpanned, eliciting another little laugh from Obi-Wan that warmed his heart even more then the presence of all his other old friends.

The next hour saw Qui-Gon busy with serving and eating cake, opening numerous gifts (though none as thoughtful or special as his padawan’s had been) and trying to avoid Master Yoda.

However, the little green master did corner him eventually, as the party was winding down, but the whack from his cane was less harsh than usual. A birthday favour, Qui-Gon supposed.

“Go barmy...” Yoda huffed.

“Excuse me?” Qui-Gon wasn’t sure he’d caught that right.

“Gobarmee fruit?” The little troll shook his head, ears twitching in exasperation. “Believe I cannot, that fell for that, you did, Qui-Gon...”

Gui-Gon had the grace to look a little flustered.

“If paid more attention to your padawan, you had, realised it was coming from your bond, you would have, uhum. Blocking your awareness, we were. Watch you unaware, we did.”

Qui-Gon bowed his head in shame.

“A lesson, let this be.” Yoda said gravelly, then added in a light tone. “However, also much good it did.” He wildly swept with his cane to indicate the party that was now in full swing, and Qui-Gon had to do an undignified little jump to get out of range, as he was sure Yoda had fully intended.

“To the future, we should look.” He hummed as his gimmer stick ended up indicating Obi-Wan, who was listening with rapt attention, and wide-open mouth, to a heavily gesticulating Mace Windu.

Qui-Gon frowned as he recognized some of the gestures, suspecting Mace was relating some of the less-well known adventures of a young Qui-Gon, adventures he had always thought would be kept a sworn secret between himself and Mace.

“If you would excuse me for a moment...” Qui-Gon bowed to Yoda, whose twinkling eyes suggested that the old troll knew exactly what was going on.

“Windu...” Qui-Gon sternly called his –now probably former- best friend to order. “You weren’t mentioning liana’s by any accident were you?”

Mace’s dark skinned impossibly paled a tone at the implied threat, and he hastily dropped whatever subject he’d been discussing with Obi-Wan.

“Ehm, so what do you think of the party, Qui? The idea itself came from Obi-Wan, of course, but I counselled him in ways to spice it up a little.” He said in his best wheedling voice.

If there had been no little padawan ears tuned in to his reply, Qui-Gon would have told Mace exactly what he thought about Mace’s spicing up.

As he had already guessed, Obi-Wan would never have picked such a giant cake, or the story-book costume dress code. Rather, the quiet insightful gift of his padawan this morning spoke of a different idea of a birthday party. Naturally, such ideas would have stood no chance against the whirlwind that was Mace’s self-proclaimed creative genius...

“I’m impressed.” He stated neutrally, but gave his apprentice a small smile as he continued. “But no gift or party could mean more to me than this morning’s awakening...”

Obi-Wan practically glowed, while Mace looked merely mystified. Obviously, the boy hadn’t been divulging the nature of his own gift, and Qui-Gon was pleased he hadn’t been boasting. Not that he had expected that. It was something private between the both of them, which made it all the more special, and he liked it that way

He casually ignored the questions of a now very curious Mace Windu by turning his full attention to his student.

“Well, Padawan, as fun as this had been, I think it’s time we left the party. I had a little trip in mind for the two of us today, and if we postpone it any longer, we’ll no longer be able to see all the exhibits. And I would certainly not miss out on a look at the new Star Speeder...”

Obi-Wan’s eyes lit up brighter than the twin suns of Tatooine.

As Qui-Gon herded his apprentice out of the door, he turned to Mace again.

“Thanks for all your help with the party, Mace.”

“No problem at all.” The dark-skinned council member grinned proudly.

“I’m sure you’ll be okay organising the clean-up, seeing Obi-Wan already has other commitments?”

Mace’s face fell a little, but he replied good-naturedly. “Anything for the birthday boy.”

“Good.” Qui-Gon said amiably. “I think you owe Obi-Wan a favour too, seeing your idea of top-secret meetings in the meditation garden have gotten the boy into trouble in the first place...”

The despondent look on his friend’s face confirmed that Qui-Gon’s suspicions were correct.

“I’m sorry about that, Obi-Wan.” The council member now addressed Obi-Wan directly. “I should have realised that you would take this ‘sworn secrecy’ business too seriously for your own good.”

Favouring Mace with a pleased smile, suggesting things were once again fine between them, Qui-Gon stepped outside, gently guiding his padawan along.

“Oh, one more thing, Mace…” He couldn’t resist.

“Qui?”

“I saw you yesterday, wearing Tahl’s dress, did I not?”

“Uhm” Mace looked decidedly uncomfortable, not at all the image of the stoic Jedi counsellor he usually projected. “Yeah, well, you see, there was an... unfortunate accident with my costume, and... well.. I had to wear something to get back to my quarters...”

Qui-Gon made a mental note to get to the bottom of that particular story, which promised to provide vastly more bribery potential than the liana one, but maintained a stoic exterior.

“Oh, of course.” He nodded as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world, not a hint of teasing in his eyes or tone.

Mace relaxed slightly.

“Might I just say that pink really does suit you, Mace…” Qui-Gon deadpanned and quickly reached out with the Force to palm the door closed so that Mace’s Force-thrown shoe dented the door rather than his face.

A month later, at Mace Windu’s birthday party, Qui-Gon naturally couldn’t resist. The look on Mace’s face when he had unwrapped the heavy gift had been priceless. Obi-Wan, who had tagged along, hadn’t known of the exact nature of the gift, and had developed odd coughing fits for the remainder of the party.

Only when they had returned to the privacy of their quarters, did Obi-Wan break down and dissolved in laughter.

Still hiccupping, the boy finally managed to ask: “But, Master, I thought revenge is not practiced by a Jedi.”

Qui-Gon went into his usual lecturing mode tone. “This wasn’t about revenge, but about returning the favour…”

Obi-Wan collapsed in yet another fit of giggles, but Qui-Gon’s demeanour remained very solemn.

“Light sabre focussing crystals are a useful and rare gift. And Mace really *does* like the colour pink.” He deadpanned.

Obi-Wan looked up unsurely, his laughter suddenly wiped of his face. “Oh, I’m sorry, Master. I didn’t mean to offend the taste of your friend.”

Qui-Gon shook his head and started laughing: “Oh, my Obi-Wan, don’t be sorry! Mace probably thinks it’s the most hideous colour ever! He had a little pink stuffed bantha when we were initiates, and he got teased so terribly about it he flung it out of the window and swore never to own anything remotely pink ever again! Of course, he can hardly my gift...”

Obi-Wan joined in the laughter, and for the longest time, the two Jedi were gasping desperately for breath and holding their sore stomachs as they almost rolled over the floor, belying the picture of esteemed Jedi serenity.

A knock at the door finally tempered the mirth and after checking if his padawan was back to projecting the aloof air befitting of a Jedi apprentice, Qui-Gon unlocked the door.

“Master Yoda…” Both Jedi bowed respectfully.

The little green Master shuffled in and made sure the door was closed before saying: “Nice, your gift to Master Windu was.”

Qui-Gon looked a bit unsure, and Obi-Wan was biting his lower lip trying to keep him from giggling.

“Very pleased, he was.” Yoda continued unperturbed, an odd lilt in his voice.

Qui-Gon feared he had gone too far, this time. “I’m sorry, Master. I didn’t mean to offend a council member...”

Yoda shook his head and then, the weirdest thing ever in Obi-Wan’s memory happened: the little green being started laughing. Okay, it was more like cackling, and the venerable Master didn’t quite hold on to his stomach, but his huge ears were twitching madly.

Qui-Gon joined in the laughter nearly immediately. Obi-Wan was starting to get a bad feeling about this. Two highly esteemed master, giggling over a prank? This was just surreal… Was he hallucinating? Suddenly he remembered the infamous Gobarmee fruit on Wayasay. Had he not read something about an incubation period of a month?

One year later

-

Tired and sore after yet another demanding mission, the Jinn-Kenobi pair returned to the Temple.

“He, Qui, wait up!”

Mace Windu was quickly making his way to them through a crowd of initiates patiently waiting for their teacher.

Qui-Gon stopped, his apprentice silent by his side.

“Would you mind assisting me?” Qui-Gon’s old friend requested politely. “I was going to demonstrate sabre fighting to these initiates, and my sparring partner Adi Gallia was unable to come…”

“Well, certainly Mace, you can borrow Obi-Wan. We had nothing planned anyway.”

If it would not have been against his common sense, a bone-weary Obi-Wan would have given his Master a death glare.

“Oh, no Qui, I have told them you are the best sword’s man in the order, and they are quite eager to see you demonstrate.”

All the little faces suddenly went alight with pleasure.

--Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah Not the cute faces…-- Qui-Gon groaned, complaining over his training bond to his padawan.

-- Does the trick every time, doesn’t it, Master?-- Said apprentice sounded way too smug and relieved to Qui-Gon.

--Shut up, Padawan—

Mace, meanwhile, was beaming brightly, sure of his victory.

Qui-Gon sighed. “All right then, let’s be off…”

Moments later, they were on the sparring mat and bowed to each other in the customary way before the start of a duel. Obi-Wan sat nearby, engulfed in a cloud of eager initiates.

Snap,hissss

A green light sabre sprung to life.

Snap, sissssssssss

A huge “Oooooooooooooh!” came from the initiates.

And then, a tiny voice piped up: “That’s the coolest light sabre I’ve *ever* seen! Master Windu is my absolute favourite sword’s man!”

This was followed by an agreeing chorus of small voices.

Obi-Wan stifled a giggle.

Qui-Gon’s usually impassive face looked a tad upset.

And Mace Windu had the largest smirk on his face.

A green light sabre forcefully hit a one of a kind pinkish purple one

“Ah, ah, Qui, revenge is not becoming of a Jedi…” Mace sing-songed as he intercepted the blow neatly, eliciting another awed chorus of Oooooh’s from the initiates.

As Qui-Gon parried, his Padawan send him another message through their bond.

--Master, now might be a good time to tell you I have intelligence on where Master Windu still keeps his pink bantha…--

And Qui-Gon smirked as a brilliant idea took form in his mind on how to ‘return the favour’ once more…

Somewhere in the Temple’s meditation gardens, three terrified initiates took off at a run as a certain presentient tiny green Master suddenly started cackling with mirth...

Qui-Gon sat up boldly, the strange sound of Yoda’s cackling still echoing eerily in his mind. He shook his head.

Out of all the strange dreams he had had, this one easily topped all others.

Gobarmee fruit, what kind of ridiculous name was that?

A cake and party for a Jedi birthday?

Yoda’s hair-raising cackling?

Mace Windu in a pink dress...

The last thought was highly entertaining, though.

Certainly, Qui-Gon hadn’t had anything to do with Windu acquiring purple focussing crystals, but he did distinctly remember a little stuffed bantha from their initiate days. And one could argue that it had indeed been a faint faded shade of pink...

He grinned inwardly.

Yes, the dream had been very odd, but entertaining nevertheless.

His eyes wandered to the framed drawing on his bedroom wall, and a warm smile played on his lips.

Obi-Wan’s beautiful rendition of the River of Light witnessed by two familiar shadowy figures.

The only part of the dream that had been based on reality.

Qui-Gon was quite fond of his padawan’s thoughtful gift, so he wasn’t surprised that he had associated the painting with Obi-Wan even in his subconscious mind.

A light probing through their bond told him his Padawan was currently in the groggy first stages of wakefulness.

With a day ahead to spend freely in whichever way Qui-Gon pleased, he abandoned his earlier idea of scheduling some additional sabre practice for Obi-Wan.

The dream had been courtesy of the Force’s: a little reminder that even Jedi needed to have some fun from time to time.

As Qui-Gon walked into their living quarters and started preparing breakfast, he remembered reading about some sort of novel exhibition in the Museum of Transportation, which would do nicely for an enjoyable, and at the same time educative, afternoon.

Obi-Wan, sleep-tousled hair sticking in every direction, peeked blearily from his bedroom. “Mahstah?” He slurred.

No, his padawan was definitely not a morning person.

Of course, when told, said padawan always dryly countered that 5 am hardly counted as ‘morning’ in any normal person’s book.

As he slowly trudged into the kitchen, Obi-Wan groaned. “I had such a strange dream tonight, Master...”

The boy scrubbed some sleep from his eyes in an endearingly child-like way as he sat beside his master.

Qui-Gon mildly raised an eyebrow. “About Mace Windu and a pink bantha?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes grew impossibly big.

“Pink ba...” He stuttered incredulously, before regaining his composure. “No, Master. Uhm, I do fail to see the connection between Master Windu and a uhm pink bantha?”

“Never mind, Padawan.” Qui-Gon said lightly. “Trust me, you don’t want to know...”

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Disclaimer: Naturally, I don't own Star Wars or the Jedi Apprentice series. All hail goes to George Lucas, Jude Watson, Dave Wolverton & co. I'm just dabbling in this wonderful sandbox. Making no profit whatsoever.

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