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Chapter Text

Qui-Gon remembers the time he first met Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The little redhead had been with his friends, each of them sat in a circle of the room of a thousand fountains playing a card game. They just so happened to be in Qui-Gon’s secluded corner up and out of view, so it was a surprise to leap up the ledge of his secret enclave to discover prepubescent kids gambling with pebbles where he’d planned to meditate.

“I believe that this is against the rules” Qui-Gon says serenely, relishing in the way each child jumps at his amused voice.

“Master Jinn!” A little Mon Calamari exclaims, smart enough to try and hide her cards while the others freeze in terror, “We were just—“

“Meditating!” A redhead shouts, legs crossed and cards thrown precariously behind him.

“Yeah, yeah, what he said” the girl responds, her hands folding respectively into her lap.

Qui-Gon raises an amused brow, using the force to lift up the draw pile they’ve set up in the center.

“Using Master Fisto’s underwater deck?” He confirms, “While simply pretending to have it set up for a game of blackjacks? What an interesting method for meditation, young padawans. Might I join you?” Qui-Gon asks politely, plopping himself down between the lot of them without waiting for permission.

He enjoys the barely concealed glances of discomfort the padawans send each other, faces scrunched oddly while trying to appear content with this development. No better time for an impromptu lesson, he decides. Qui-Gon picks up a card and, without looking, sets it face down in front of him.

“What number is on the card?” He asks the wary children surrounding him.

He’s met with confused silence. Reasonable, he supposes, for now. 

“Is this a trick question?” Quinlan Vos asks, a Kiffar that Qui-Gon remembers from a crude prank the padawan set off that rattled the entire temple.

Little celebrity, that one is. It tracks that he’d be a part of a padawan gambling ring, Qui-Gon muses. Force knows the rants he’s gotten from Master Tholme, bless the man. 

“No tricks,” Qui-Gon assures, “Try to sense it through what I know in my head. The gift of understanding another’s mind, even briefly, can be very helpful when you are in a precarious situation. What can you see?” He asks.

Immediately, intense looks of concentration span across the children’s faces, each of them looking constipated as they stare down Qui-Gon. This might be his favorite lesson, because every single time results in the most unique expressions of uninhibited straining. He keeps his mind open, breaking down his shields and allowing the kid’s force presences to blindly prod at his thoughts.

He can sense the moment the first one grasps the image he is pressing towards them.

“Eight of spades!” The Mon Calamari shouts triumphantly, her fist pumping in the air.

The other padawans groan, Quinlan Vos slumping his head in annoyance onto the redhead’s shoulder, only to be shoved off seconds later. Ah, youth. Qui-Gon needs to visit the créche more. He forgets how entertaining they are. Besides, Xatanos is a knight now, and Qui-Gon will need to search out his next padawan to take. 

“Well done,” he praises the girl, “And what is your name?” Qui-Gon asks calmly.

“Bant” she announces.

“You’ll sit out and watch this time, Bant. Try to sense what others do wrong,” as he says this, he draws another card and sets it down in front of him.

A few of the padawans already have that look on their faces, trying to catch Qui-Gon off guard. It’s humorous, observing their lack of care for the expressions they pull as they fumble around with their little force signatures. Bant seems to be riding alongside a force bond with one of the others, more relaxed with less pressure on her.

“Is it a King of Hearts?” The redhead asks hesitantly.

“Of diamonds , but close enough. It takes practice” he comforts as the kid slumps in defeat, “I have a great deal of experience, I assure you. It does not come easy,”.

Understatement of the year. Reading someone’s mind is a challenge for decades of practice. Qui-Gon is making it easy, purposefully shoving the thought to the front of his mind for them to grasp, but passing the threshold into another sentient’s headspace is a very difficult task.

“My Master has been working on sending thoughts through our bond so I can make her tea without getting out of bed” Bant reveals proudly.

Ah. What wonderful blackmail for Master Tahl, Qui-Gon thinks gleefully. Too lazy to make her own drinks. It’s no wonder Bant was first, then. Master Tahl is quite adept with more mental sides of the force, working in a library with the need to memorize every book. Not just their locations. Every book. Bant has large shoes to fill. 

“Lucky” the redhead mumbles glumly.

“You’re just jealous” Quinlan teases, elbowing the redhead, “that’s not very Jedi-like of you”.

“Neither is stealing Master Kisto’s cards!” The kid defends.

“Oh yeah, because you’re sooo innocent while you played Dealer with them, huh?” Quinlan bites back, “tell him, Siri”.

Siri, a blonde human who has been trying to subtly hide behind a taller, also blonde padawan, winces.

“I’m staying out of this” Siri deflects, shaking her head.

“Padawans,” Qui-Gon says, pushing a wave of calm at each of them through the force.

Bristling arguments settle almost immediately, attention turning to him with bright eyes.

“What number is on the card?”.

The silly expressions are back. Qui-Gon hides a smile.

It is only after the game when Qui-Gon actually learns Obi-Wan’s name. 

“How did you know what was on the card?” The redhead is asking him, fiddling with his shirt.

The rest of the Padawans are taking turns leaping down from the ledge, their masters supposedly summoning for lunch with a mental prodding. The redhead lags behind to satiate his curiosity—an admirable trait.  

“I saw it,” Qui-Gon responds with a pleasant smile.

“No, you had it face down the whole time. Were you making up the number on the bottom?” The kid prods, having to jog a bit to keep up with Qui-Gon’s longer legs as he starts walking towards the ledge.

“Of course not, I am no cheat,” Qui-Gon says with amusement, “I simply looked”.

“But not with your eyes” 

“No,” Qui-Gon confirms, “Not with my eyes. They are not needed. What is your name?”.

“Obi-Wan” the redhead mumbles, face scrunched up in thought as he tries to decipher Qui-Gon’s methods.

“Where is your Master? I’d be happy to explain to you my process on your way” Qui-Gon demures, pausing on the ledge to face Obi-Wan.

“I don’t have one,” the little thing admits, defeated.

Perfect. Qui-Gon had a feeling that was the case. He senses something special about the youngling, and this conclusion feels right. Xatanos won’t have to wait long for a friend in the lineage, Qui-Gon thinks with a smile. 

He just has to hope that nobody snipes Obi-Wan before he can. Best to spread the word, he decides, before it’s too late. Taking Obi-Wan as a padawan might be something Qui-Gon takes into consideration.

“I’m sure your day will come” Qui-Gon comforts thoughtlessly, patting the kid’s shoulder before leaping from the small cliffside. 

He looks up at Obi-Wan, alone and staring down at the room of a thousand fountains with a resigned look. He looks tiny surrounded by the thick leaves surrounding the small cove. He looks tired.

It will change, Qui-Gon decides. Eventually.

-

Obi-Wan has heard legendary stories of the temple’s Maverik, Master Qui-Gon Jinn. Not really a rule breaker, but definitely not a rule follower. Obi-Wan thinks he can see why when the Master creates a test out of their entirely illegal gambling within the temple. 

It gives all of them a great excuse as to why Kit Fitso’s cards were in their possession in the first place. Merely a lesson of the mind, Master Dralling! No need to investigate further. There was another real Master involved so it can’t be nefarious at all. Please don’t tell anyone.

But then Qui-Gon uses those dreaded words.

“I’m sure your day will come,” he says, before promptly abandoning Obi-Wan to the solitude of the enclave.

Ugh. Everyone says that. Even Quinlan, which is just wrong because Quinlan only says nice things when he feels bad or is lying to get away with something. It’s just humiliating to be the last picked every time. Apparently this extends to padawanship. 

Obi-Wan waits until even master Qui-Gon leaves the room, returning to the secluded cove. He grabs one of the pebbles with the force, slumping down onto the grass and watching it hover in front of him. 

He’s not really hungry anyways, he decides, sending the small stone flying against the wall. 

-

The next time that Qui-Gon runs across Obi-Wan is when they’re in the library. 

Qui-Gon snuck in moments prior with a book he’d checked out a week ago. He’s never actually read it, but there is a flower pressed carefully within one of the pages he scanned with a sweet and romantic poem on it.

He turns the corner straight into a wayward padawan, nearly dropping the precious cargo.

“Master Jinn!” A shrill voice starts, before immediately hushing in fear of retribution for the loud noise, “What are you—uh, I mean.. Can I help you?” 

Qui-Gon looks down to Obi-Wan in surprise, his hands full of books up to his chin. 

“I believe it is I who should be extending the offer to you” Qui-Gon says, his shock concealed expertly with a gracious smile.

Without a word, he uses the force to lift the heavy burden from Obi-Wan’s arms. Books float around Obi-Wan’s head as he spins around in awe at the display.

“I didn’t think of that,” Obi-Wan admits, a little embarrassed, “I thought I’d get in trouble”.

“If anyone asks, you’re simply training your discipline,” Qui-Gon says with a wink.

Obi-Wan returns it with a mischievous smile. Qui-Gon can feel when the youngling begins to clumsily take control of the hovering pages, carefully balancing them behind him. Obi-Wan keeps them close to himself, as if afraid he might bump someone with them as they float carefully behind him. At this age, it’s a reasonable concern.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where Master Tahl is, would you?” Qui-Gon asks, waving the book in his hands a little as if he needs to explain his reasoning to the child.

“Uhm.. I think she’s on break right now. I’m volunteering though! I can check that in for you” Obi-Wan says, eager to please.

“I, uh.. had some questions for her about some of the contents” Qui-Gon tries politely.

“That’s the story of Segahli, isn’t it? I’ve read that a few times. It’s very tragic!” Obi-Wan gushes, “I know like, the entire series. If you have any questions, I bet I can answer them!”.

“Ah. Lovely” Qui-Gon grimaces, “I have several”.

He didn’t even read it. 

Obi-Wan looks so earnest though, nearly bouncing at the prospect of being helpful. Qui-Gon plasters on a smile and follows as the youngling works to shelve books, asking meaningless questions about the story. Stuff that surely wouldn’t be described or very deeply researched, right?

It’s when the kid can answer exactly what the average temperature of the main character’s bedroom is that Qui-Gon realizes that he may be karked in his desperate questions. His only solace is that Obi-Wan has yet to catch on to his blind questionnaire, too eager to please. It’s adorable, and almost makes his failure of a trip worth it.

Until a dreaded blockade halts their impromptu adventure. Turning a corner, they run into Madame Joscata Nu, keeper of the library and Qui-Gon’s third biggest fear.

“Master Jinn” she greets with a cold expression, softening when she looks down at Obi-Wan. “Kenobi,” she says warmly.

“Hello Master,” Obi-Wan says politely, bowing respectfully.

“I was just about to head out,” Qui-Gon informs after a beat, pointing his thumb towards where he hopes is an exit.

“Not with that, you aren’t” Madame Nu says, using the force to pull the book from Qui-Gon’s hands, “it’ll be overdue by tomorrow”.

“I was just about to show him the rest of the series!” Obi-Wan explains, “He has a lot of questions about the lore. I don’t know of anyone else who has read this!”.

“Ah, suddenly discovering your love for classic literature, are you?” Madame Nu asks, giving Qui-Gon a knowing look.

“Yup” he gulps, his large hand engulfing Obi-Wan’s shoulder as he pats it, “Obi-Wan here has great recommendations”.

Madame Nu opens the book in her palm with the force. Qui-Gon knows this, because he has to make eye contact with her as she stares him down when it lands on the poem-with-a-flower page. He fights to keep a calm expression.

“Oh, flower pressing!” Obi-Wan points out, delighted when Madame Nu lowers it for him to see.

“Yes. A passable attempt I suppose, for an amateur." Madame Nu doesn’t break eye contact.

Qui-Gon closes his eyes, praying for strength.

“Say, Qui-Gon” Madame Nu says conversationally, “Do you remember the ending of the book? If I recall correctly, the writer of this very poem meets a gruesome end as he fights for his lover’s hand against her father ”.

“Oh yeah!” Obi-Wan butts in, “Her dad totally shredded that guy. He was such a jerk!”.

Ah. How interesting. No beads of sweat are running down Qui-Gon’s back at all. Books are awesome.

“Are you old enough to be reading these?” He asks Obi-Wan weakly.

Obi-Wan shrugs. Madame Nu doesn’t say anything. Qui-Gon wishes to be anywhere but here. Madame Nu pats Obi-Wan’s head with affection, sending him off to his next assignment.

She folds her arms and glares at Qui-Gon. 

“Things will change,” she says menacingly, slamming the book shut, “I assure you”.

-

Obi-Wan thinks Master Qui-Gon is pretty cool. The kinds of questions he asks are really stuff only a true fan of the works would even want to know. Like, why else would he be curious about how many jewels are on the crown? The symbolism doesn’t even start to appear until book three, but Qui-Gon caught on without even meeting the princess! 

Obi-Wan hums to himself as he shelves another stack of paper books, carefully handling the rare pages with gloves. He hopes Qui-Gon comes and visits more. Maybe they can read the next series together. Wouldn’t that be fun?

Of course, Obi-Wan has heard the rumors of Qui-Gon making a claim to take him as a padawan. It could just be rumors, really, and he tries so hard not to get his hopes up. There’s a printed list of reasons why masters won’t take him, it would be so weird if Qui-Gon actually asked him. 

But like.. it would be so cool. Obi-Wan tries to imagine it. Being a padawan. To the Maverik, too! On his way to being a knight and then a Master and then saving lives every day or whatever. It’s plausible now.

Things will change, Obi-Wan tells himself. Someday.

-

Qui-Gon sits in the bed of the medbay with lifeless eyes, staring at the wall. 

Normally, Xatanos would be right beside him, complaining about how dingy the transport ship was or how lame their guide spoke. Casual annoyances, constant chittering, endless noise.

Today it is quiet.

Qui-Gon stares down at his hands, eyes blinking hard as he fights for control. Xatanos fell to the dark side today. He killed innocents, disputed the Order, cried out for vengeance. He tried to kill Qui-Gon.

It’s surreal. Last night they’d been debating politics over a Corrica Worm dish, flinging live ones at each other on the ferry ship towards Bandomeer with humorous cries of disgust. It was a normal mission, as far as ‘normal’ goes in this lineage, but Xatanos was happy. 

That was until the boy met his father.

Now, Qui-Gon sits alone in the medical room as he feels hot tears slipping down his cheeks.

Xatanos fell to the dark side.

It echoes in his mind, like a dark cave with walls of pain reflecting the thought over and over. Even across the galaxy, there is endless noise from the boy he raised.

Xatanos fell to the dark side.   

The door opens. Qui-Gon doesn’t look up, because he knows it isn’t his—his former padawan.

An arm wordlessly stretches across his shoulders, a calm force presence slipping into his own like it belongs there, muffling the cave walls with soft pillows of comfort. Qui-Gon leans into Tahl’s side, closing his eyes and burying a sob.

Xatanos fell to the dark side.

It won’t change, Qui-Gon thinks helplessly. 

-

Obi-Wan heard it from Bant, who heard it from Tahl, who was there at Qui-Gon’s side for a week after the incident.

Xatanos fell to the dark side. 

“You’re sure?” He hisses, holding Bant’s hand and trying to keep up as she runs around a corner.

“Everyone is talking about it, how haven’t you heard!”.

“I don’t have a gossip buddy for a Master!” Obi-Wan grumbles, a little breathless as he tries to keep a grip on the book he grabbed last second.

“Well, Tahl said that Qui-Gon will be at dinner today. She said that I need to bring you to cheer him up, and that you’ve been skipping meals too often anyways”.

“Why would I cheer him up?? He barely even knows me!”.

“She said you’re a cute little kid who he actually checked out a book for! He never does that,” Bant explains, “She thinks it’ll help him out of the slump,”.

“No pressure or anything” Obi-Wan mumbles to himself, stumbling after her.

The fall of Xatanos bounces around his head like a mantra of doom. Qui-Gon must be devastated. Obi-Wan never met the knight, too intimidated to try seeking out Qui-Gon beyond coincidence, and by extension, his student. He can’t imagine how terrible it must be to lose a former padawan to the dark side.

They make it to dinner when the serving meal lines are empty, meaning that it’s basically over already. Not as many individuals are scattered across the room, but that just makes it easier to spot the long hair of Qui-Gon nursing a drink with Tahl. They’re seated at a tall counter, too high for Obi-Wan to see over the top. 

“Master!” Bant says, announcing their presence as they run towards them, “Obi-Wan fell asleep while meditating!”.

Oh, so they’re lying now? Obi-Wan wishes he’d been informed of this beforehand. He never falls asleep while meditating. He finds it far too fascinating. 

Qui-Gon looks to Tahl rather than them, as if asking for her to deal with it. Obi-Wan grows a little disheartened. Qui-Gon has never outright ignored him before. Tahl shakes her head, gesturing to them pointedly. Qui-Gon grimaces, sipping at his drink lifelessly.

“I, uh, also brought something for you” Obi-Wan says nervously, fidgeting with the book in his hands. 

Finally, Qui-Gon acknowledges him with a tired look. Obi-Wan holds out the book, opening to the page he’d prepared a few days before the whole evil padawan thing happened. He feels bad now, wanting it to be a gift but timing turning it into more of an apology.

On it is a little pressed flower, orange and bright against the colorless page. It’s a sign of friendship and trust, originating from Naboo. Obi-Wan is fairly certain that Qui-Gon is aware of this, because he’s seen the Master’s affinity for plants up close. 

Qui-Gon stares down at it, expression blank. Slowly, he shakily accepts the book from Obi-Wan’s hands, bringing it up to the counter. He reads the words on the page. It was a passage about adventure, something referencing the book series Obi-Wan had ranted about.

Qui-Gon doesn’t say a word.

“He loves it” Master Tahl answers for him, a sad expression in her eyes, “He’s just in a mood”.

Yeah, no kidding. Obi-Wan would be as well if his padawan went dark. There’s nothing worse than that, he decides, watching the way Qui-Gon hunches over the book with anguish in his posture. Not able to see his expression, nor sense through his shields, Obi-Wan decides to give them privacy.

“I’m gonna go.. meditate” Obi-Wan says, pointing to what he hopes is an exit. 

“Me too” Bant echoes, uncomfortable, “But I won’t fall asleep” she adds rudely.

“May the force guide you” Master Tahl says pleasantly, waving them off.

Once out of earshot, Obi-Wan punches Bant as hard as he can.

“Ow! What was that for?” She cries out, rubbing the sore spot on her arm.

“You made me make him cry!” Obi-Wan whines.

“He could’ve been laughing!”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you seriously think he was laughing, ” Obi-Wan hisses.

“Okay, probably not, but maybe it helped?” Bant doesn’t look confident as she says this, shrugging helplessly.

“I’m gonna die of embarrassment” Obi-Wan states, “nobody is going to want a padawan who made the Maverik cry. That’s like, bad luck or something”. 

“Maybe he’ll take you as his next one!” She tries to comfort.

Obi-Wan bolsters himself with the force this time when he punches Bant. The shout of pain that rockets out of her hurts his ears a little, but not as much as when she tackles him to the floor. They wrestle in the hallway until they’re too tired to continue, breathing heavily.

“Don’t say that” Obi-Wan pants, sprawling across the ground and rubbing one of the baby teeth with his tongue that jiggled loose.

“Say what” she breathes back, already forgetting what he’d punched her for.

“Don’t try to make good of this” he responds breathlessly, “Xatanos was like us. He’s here even when he’s not”.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Bant whispers, but doesn’t argue that she shouldn’t have said what she did. 

It does, Obi-Wan thinks. The way Xatanos’s presence has shaken everyone so much. The way Qui-Gon cries over a stupid book that was meant to be a joke. The way Tahl has to speak for him because he’s too hurt to do it himself. The way that Obi-Wan needs to be here for comfort at all.

It does make sense. Xatanos is still here, even when he’s not.

“What in the world are you two doing?” A commanding voice asks, startling Bant and Obi-Wan.

Master Windu is marching down the hall towards them, rerouting himself from where he’d been headed to the dinner room. It’s as menacing as the man is bald, which is very, very menacing. 

“Meditating” Bant blurts out, sitting up swiftly to sell the story.

Obi-Wan doesn’t bother moving. He’s pretty sure that the black eye he knows is forming on his face is telling enough. He rolls his eyes as Bant tries to kick him into sitting up.

They are corralled into the medbay by a frustrated Master Windu. Some things never change, Obi-Wan thinks, watching Bant try to scramble for the most believable story that will get them in the least amount of trouble.

Watching Master Windu nod along as if he believes it is, even though it clearly isn’t true, is new. Some things do change , Obi-Wan observes, leaving the room with barely a slap on the wrist. 

Change might be situational, he concludes.

Chapter Text

Weeks go by after the Fall. Qui-Gon avoids mind healers like the plague, choosing instead to barge into Tahl’s room and mope on her bed while her padawan is in at lessons. Tahl pops in occasionally with a cup of tea and warm embrace, but she understands enough to give Qui-Gon his privacy. 

Even if it is in her own darn room.

The days that Qui-Gon is haunting in her bedroom at the same time that Bant arrives home, Tahl tends to lead her young padawan towards the training salles to work out extra energy. It’s not a bad excuse to have the young girl train a little more, since she’s so set on following Tahl’s footsteps as a librarian. For some reason, Bant believes that she can skip saber work for books in that aspect. Tahl loves the excuse to work her harder.

For both of them, more often than not. Tahl is being run ragged by that insufferable attitude stinking up her room in the force. Shielding Qui-Gon’s misery from both herself and her pawdawan gets tiresome, after a time. Boring, too.

Tahl steps into her bedroom, shedding her outermost layer of robes and tossing it onto her bed. Beneath the fabric she’d just tossed lies a miserable Qui-Gon lying face-down on her pillows in the most depressing meditation pose that Tahl has ever seen. 

“Obi-Wan ages out in two weeks” she says conversationally, “they plan to send him to the Agri-Corps on Bandomeer”.

Qui-Gon mumbles something rude with his face mushed up against her pillow, too muffled to even count as Basic anymore.

“No master will take him after you stuck your claim” Tahl reminds him, “Don’t waste that”.

Qui-Gon’s head moves singularly from his body for the sole purpose of shooting her a glare.

“Don’t give me that. He doesn’t deserve to lose his chance at knighthood because you couldn’t get your act together” Tahl snaps, crossing the room to stand at the side of the bed to match his gaze.

“I’m not going to put another kid through that,” Qui-Gon mumbles childishly.

“What, padawanship? Xatanos was fine!” Qui-Gon flinches at the name, but Tahl doesn’t stop, “He made a choice, Qui-Gon. That isn’t your fault. Nothing you could’ve done would ever make it your fault. Letting Obi-Wan age out? That would be!”.

This is a battle they’ve fought for weeks, words repeating like a choreographed dance back and forth. 

“Letting him age out would be a mercy compared to this!” Qui-Gon says, louder, his face morphing into an agonized expression.

“You truly believe that?” Tahl asks, incredulous, “You, Master Qui-Gon Jinn, the Maverik, arguably the most infuriatingly intellectual man I have ever had the blessing of knowing, believe that the Jedi path is naught but suffering?” .

“That’s not what I said,”

“You didn’t have to” Tahl continues, “You condemned that boy to a life he doesn’t want because you made a decision, but now you want to back out. How is that fair?”.

“I find that very little in this life is fair,” Qui-Gon grumbles, sitting up on the bed.

“Balance” Tahl reminds him, “Is what a Jedi strives to reach. You will not tip these scales in such a disrespectful way. You will march up to that youngling and take him as your student, as you have promised all of us”.

“It will not happen” Qui-Gon stubbornly hisses.

“I will see to it that it does” Tahl responds with just as much venom.

“You cannot shackle him to me! You talk very highly of what that boy deserves but I assure you, it is not me. Look what I have done to the last! What good can come from this?” He cries, pushing himself from the bed to stand and face her, posing as though he might lunge.

“Are you daft?” Tahl shouts, stepping further into his space, “Have you forgotten thirty-six years living within this temple? Did you even once feel that this home is nothing but pain and misery? Or have you allowed Xatanos to take away every ounce of rationality that you’ve ever possessed?”

“ Stop saying his name, ” Qui-Gon growls, face so close to Tahl’s that she can feel his breath ghosting across her own.

Tahl looks up at his furious gaze. Something cracks in her heart, seeing the lingering darkness that Xatanos has left behind swimming in his wet eyes. She forces herself to take a breath, sympathy bleeding from her as she assesses the root of Qui-Gon’s fears.

Tahl reaches for Qui-Gon’s hand, refusing to break eye contact as she prods at his shielding through the force. Qui-Gon hesitates, but allows her to wash a gentle calm through him.

Qui-Gon visibly relaxes, closing his eyes to allow tears to freely fall down his cheeks. He mutters a small ‘thank you’, pressing his forehead against her shoulder. Tahl takes her free hand to cradle the back of his skull.

“You were wonderful to Xatanos,” Tahl whispers, “And he loved you very much. He was happy here. I can promise you this”.

“That may be so, but I won’t take another padawan,” Qui-Gon spits, a promise in his eyes.

Ah.

Tahl wishes he hadn’t said that, eyes sliding to the door where Bant and Obi-Wan are both standing in the doorway, looking nothing short of mortified for catching such a moment. Bant’s hand is still on the door handle, ready to shut it at a moment’s notice as quickly as it’d been flung open.

Qui-Gon lifts his head from Tahl’s shoulder, eyes landing on the kids before turning away just as quickly to hide his emotions. Judging by the devastated look on Obi-Wan’s face, this doesn’t have the effect that he wishes. 

“Go make some tea,” Tahl tells Bant softly, “We’ll be out in a moment”.

“Take your time” Bant mumbles, slowly shutting the door with clear awkwardness.

The second it shuts, Tahl turns to Qui-Gon, hand running through his hair comfortingly.

“I know you haven’t lost your connection to the force” Tahl says softly, only with a little teasing included, “what does it say?”.

Qui-Gon scrunches his face up in displeasure.

“It says I need to go home now” He answers primly, “and enter into a very deep sleep”.

“Perhaps it is trying to spare me from going white in the hair. Force knows I need a break,” Tahl smiles.  

“We both know your beauty would merely double on the day you start to gray” Qui-Gon says, his emotions settling at the familiar banter, hand grasping the tip of her locks with a charming grin, “I hear silver foxes are rare around here”.

“Get out of here, you brute,” Tahl slaps his arm away from her hair, walking with him towards the door.

“Might I have an escort?”

“I’m sure Obi-Wan would love nothing more than to guide you back to your dorms, should an old man like you find the walk too weary” she calls back, hands on her hips in amusement.

“Scoundrel!” His voice carries as he makes his way down the hall, “You’re older than me!”

Tahl shakes her head with a small smile. He’ll be alright, she decides. Eventually.

-

“I’m going to turn twelve and age out and have to live with plants all day” Obi-Wan complains, banging the back of his head against a cabinet from where he’s sitting on the kitchen floor.

“You say that like living with Qui-Gon would have any less flora all over the place. I went over to his dorms once for lunch with Master Tahl. It’s like a jungle in there” Bant says, flicking on the stove and placing a kettle on it.

“You heard him though! He’s never going to take another padawan! I’m doomed” Obi-Wan cries, sprawling across the floor dramatically.

“You are not doomed” Bant rolls her eyes, “you’re impatient. Maybe that’s why the masters are avoiding you so much, because you’re such a baby”.

“Will I still be a baby if I beat you up?” 

“Let’s not threaten my padawan, initiate Kenobi” Tahl’s voice calls from the other room. 

Obi-Wan’s face turns red as Bant sticks her tongue out at him. 

“Point is” Obi-Wan says, quieter, “I’m never going to see you again after this, if someone doesn’t take me on”.

Bant pauses from where she’d been placing tea packets into their respective cups.

“We’d visit” she says with uncertainty, the weight of his departure seeming to sink in.

“Only if your master allows it. How often do you see any of the other Corps explorers? I’m going to be in a different solar system, Bant . The chances that we run into each other on missions is like, none”.

“I’d find you," Bant says, rolling her eyes. 

“Maybe,”.

Obi-Wan looks at Bant, trying to muster up a casual smile. Maybe.

-

“I will never speak to you again if you let that child fall into the Corps without giving him a chance. There’s only a week left” Tahl threatens at breakfast, taking a slow bite of a breadstick. 

“Nice try,” Qui-Gon retorts, “You can’t live without me,”.

Qui-Gon must see the resolve set into her eyes. He pauses mid-bite of a Naboo carrot, looking at her wearily. Yeah, that’s right, tough guy. This isn’t a joke. 

“It’s not happening” Qui-Gon argues weakly.

Tahl doesn’t respond, staring at him.

“Shoo” he tries, waving his hands at her to ward her off.

Tahl leaves.

“Kark” she hears behind her, Qui-Gon’s swear being drowned out by the door slamming shut behind her.

-

It doesn’t take long for him to cave.

“Will you.. be my uh.. do you want to be a padawan?” Qui-Gon asks Obi-Wan Kenobi, who is curled up in the back of the library with his nose in a book about plants.

Great and wonderful start to this padawanship. Even the pre-answer stage is the most awkward thing that Qui-Gon has had the misfortune of beginning. It is a premonition of what is to come, he thinks moodily.

However, Qui-Gon wasn’t aware of the initiate's interest in plants. That might’ve made this terrible ordeal much easier to decide, rather than waiting up until the very last day for Obi-Wan to age out. Qui-Gon wouldn’t mind sharing some of his plants with the padawan, once they get a shared dorm. He’s sure Obi-Wan will love it.

Obi-Wan stares up at him with his mouth agape, looking all as though a star is exploding in front of his very eyes.

“Yes!” Obi-Wan shouts, immediately regretting it in the silence of the library.

Qui-Gon looks back to where Tahl is peeking around the corner with her thumbs up and a wide grin on her face. Unbelievable. It’s done. Now what?

“Great” Qui-Gon says, shifting on his feet awkwardly, “feel free to.. follow me, then”.

Obi-Wan launches from the corner, book flying from his lap and nearly forgotten until it makes a loud thud on the floor. Qui-Gon winces. Madame Nu will for sure blame him for any damages to the rare collector’s condition. He picks it up with the force as Obi-Wan trails behind him. 

“Where are you two headed?” Tahl asks, turning around the corner as if she’d only just stumbled across them and hadn’t been spying the entire time.

“To give this little one a padawan braid” Qui-Gon says, like he’s trying to sound proud but appearing more uncomfortable. 

It’s not like this is the first time Tahl has spoken to him in a week or anything. The last time that happened, they were twelve. She can be so demanding sometimes. Qui-Gon doesn’t know how he ever forgets. 

Obi-Wan clearly picks up on the lack of enthusiasm, but tries to puff his chest out proudly anyways. It’s adorable. It reminds him of how proud Xatanos was to be a padawan when they first started. Qui-Gon misses Xatanos dearly. 

This is going to go terrible, he just knows it.

-

Being Qui-Gon’s padawan is nothing like Obi-Wan expects. 

For one, the guy’s personality seems to have done a total 180. No longer is he silly and joking around and guiding Obi-Wan and his companions out of trouble, but rather, becoming a bit of a stick in the mud. 

Quinlan Vos calls for a very high-priority padawan-only meeting in the room of a thousand fountains to discuss whether or not they need to systematically change Qui-Gon’s nickname from the ‘Maverick’ to just ‘Master Jinn’ like any other stickler to rules around here. 

Obi-Wan, as loyal as ever, argues against it with the unbeatable fact that Master Jinn is clearly grieving. Everyone mumbles agreements, and it is decided that they will bring this up in a month to give Qui-gon a trial period.

Another thing is how hesitant he is to let Obi-Wan in the training salles. You know, the place where he is required to train with his lightsaber. Qui-Gon just keeps scheduling extra blocks of meditation into Obi-Wan’s calendar until the battlemaster shows up at their door demanding more hours to work with Obi-Wan. It begs the question; does Qui-Gon not trust him?

As time goes on, that question is brutally answered.

Qui-Gon absolutely does not trust anything Obi-Wan does at all ever. He doesn’t trust him to use a lightsaber, to do things beyond his sight, to even make the trek to Bant’s to drop something off, hell, Obi-Wan hasn’t had a moment alone that didn’t involve the bathroom since becoming a padawan. It’s just textbook and quiz and meditate and read and textbook and—every boring part of being a Jedi ever. 

Obi-Wan likes most of those things, sure, but he got a lightsaber for a reason! He wants to swing the blue stick around and be cool! 

Qui-Gon tells him to have patience. 

Patience sucks butt, Obi-Wan thinks moodily, scrolling through another model for how to raise stupid plants. He hates plants. They take up space and time and all that crap, and Obi-Wan’s room is covered in them because Qui-Gon learned that having a padawan means more space to put his plants.

Waking up to a big leafy plant that absolutely is the root of Obi-Wan’s allergies brushing against his face is not his idea of a good time. In fact, it’s a terrible time. He keeps starting the day with a puffy face, too afraid to tell Qui-Gon in case it annoys the guy.

But Masters say all the time that it’s hard to be a padawan, and even harder to progress. Nothing about this life is easy, so Obi-Wan sticks with it.

Even when there’s big dumb plants he has to dodge just to shower in the morning. Even when Qui-Gon doesn’t ever speak to him unless it’s a command. Even when wary eyes watch his actions every waking hour. Even when he hears crying at night that he never breathes a word of in the morning.

Even when Qui-Gon looks at him, Obi-Wan knows that it isn’t Obi-Wan that the man sees.

Being a padawan is just hard.

-

“Ugh” Obi-Wan complains, “it’s so hot in here”.

Qui-Gon winces. Xatanos would say that every time they’d step into the training rooms for battling the terrain. Thinking over his previous padawan’s actions, Qui-Gon has a very daunting theory.

“Don’t complain,” he says sternly, “that is not the Jedi way”.

Obi-Wan gives him a confused look, realization dawning soon after. Good. He can see how dangerous of a line it is to speak so negatively. 

Qui-Gon tries to ignore the small flash of hurt from Obi-Wan, instead closing his eyes to meditate through the worst of the heat. It helps clog up the uncomfortable sensations in his body and pass the time much better. That is what he is trying to teach Obi-Wan today.

Obi-Wan barely manages, face red and sweaty by the time they’re done, but he doesn't back out. That is more than most padawans can say. Qui-Gon nearly congratulates him, but then he thinks of how prideful Xatanos had become at the constant assurances.

He stays quiet, leading them from the rooms.

-

When Obi-Wan is finally released to the salles, it is only in hours that literally everyone he knows is somewhere else. The only people straggling around are masters who are up late and either bored or work odd hours. It’s boring without any friends to train with, so Obi-Wan has no choice but to follow Qui-Gon perfectly in his movements. 

Obi-Wan is so far behind that it isn’t even funny.

-

Qui-Gon is nervous about how fast Obi-Wan is progressing. He’s tried filling the kid’s schedule so full of stuff that Obi-Wan breaks and finally asks for help, hopefully ending the awkward knife that’s been jabbed between the two, but the kid just shoulders it wordlessly and a little too well.

Perhaps he finds Qui-Gon’s methods too inadequate. Qui-Gon isn’t sure. He rearranges the schedule to fit in the training block that Master Dralling has been nagging him for. Maybe the excess energy will finally burn the kid out.

It backfires so hard. Now he’s excited and adept with a deadly weapon.

-

“Quin, we’ve got our first mission assignment,” Obi-Wan whispers excitedly to Quinlan.

They’re crammed together in a vent, not much space to shimmy around in as they try to keep very quiet. Quinlan is covered in dust after deciding to go first and act as a rag, while Obi-Wan is only equally as dirty because of the way they are pressed against one another. They’re peering down at the hallway, as they have been for the past fifteen minutes or so.

“Where to?” Quinlan asks, distracted as he scans for their target. 

“A place called Melida, I think,”.

“Never heard of it,”.

“It might also be known as Daan, the report was a little confusing about that,”.

“Hmm.. still nothing,”.

“It’s in the outer rim,”.

“Very impressive. Now, be quiet. I can sense her,” Quinlan says, even quieter, bracing the balloon in his hands.

Obi-Wan grips the vent, ready to pop it off.

“Now,” Quinlan whispers.

As quietly as he can, and with a little assistance from the force, Obi-Wan slides the vent open as silently as possible, hovering it slightly above the hole so that Quinlan can lean out.

Quinlan launches the balloon at Siri. It splatters into a firework of blue goop, covering her entirely.

“Quinlan!!” She shouts, outraged as she spots the open vent.

“Obi-Wan too!” Quinlan shouts back.

Offended for being outed in his involvement, Obi-Wan scrambles to shove Quinlan out of the vent. The kiffar doesn’t react quick enough, shrieking as he falls from the ceiling and barely manages to land with assistance from the force.

“Traitor!” Quinlan shouts, his voice quickly becoming obscure as he is hunted down the hallway by Siri.

Obi-Wan is about to leap out and help his partner in crime when he hears voices coming from the other end of the hall. Not wanting to be caught, and unavoidably interested in drama, Obi-Wan listens in.

“I can’t do it” a familiar voice states, “I’m just going to tell him tonight and get it over with. He deserves better,”.

It’s Qui-Gon and Master Tholme.

“Just because Tahl isn’t around doesn’t mean you can go off and destroy your life. You know how he’ll take it” Tholme defends, “That boy adores you”.

“Evidently not ”.

“He’s just trying to show off for you”.

“That is a bad trait, you know how that turned out last time,” Qui-Gon says darkly, not looking at his friend as he marches down the hall.

“It isn’t the end of the world. Every padawan does it. You’re taking it out on him too much,” Tholme comforts, his hand rubbing Qui-Gon’s arm soothingly.

“All the more reason to cut this at the bud! I can’t be his Master anymore. It’s far too much. I don’t know how to handle him,”.

Obi-Wan feels his heart drop to his stomach, obscuring himself as deeply as he knows how in the force to avoid alerting either adult of his presence. What does he mean, terminating the padawanship? Obi-Wan has been trying so hard, what could he be doing wrong?

“Let him have at least one real mission before you make a decision like that” Tholme says.

Obi-Wan tries not to cry, shuffling quietly backwards. At least someone is looking out for him. Hearing this gives him a chance to do better. He can fix this, he just needs to be better.

-

They’re on the way to the Melida or Daan mission due to a distress signal Tahl sent out. Qui-Gon can’t wait to get one over her on ‘who saves who’, so he makes sure they are well prepared in every capacity, even energy.

They sit in the ship’s tiny kitchen over a platter of easymake meals. Normally, Obi-Wan might be meekly describing his current topics of interest or asking questions about whatever comes to mind, but today he is silent. It’s.. unnerving.

“You’ve been awfully quiet” Qui-Gon observes, looking at where Obi-Wan is serenely staring at his untouched meal.

“Simply thinking, Master,” Obi-Wan says calmly.

Qui-Gon tries prodding through their force bond, lowering his shields that've been blocking his own miserable emotions just enough to poke at Obi-Wan. He finds equally sturdy shields shutting him out. Qui-Gon recoils in dismay. If Obi-Wan is so desperate to keep him out, it must prove Qui-Gon’s theory that Obi-Wan is unhappy here.

Much like Xatanos was.

He tries not to bother Obi-Wan anymore. They continue the meal in silence until eventually Obi-Wan shoves the rest of what he’s hardly touched into the fridge and departs to his room. Qui-Gon sighs. 

He doesn’t know how to fix this.

-

Tahl is on Melida. Or Daan. Whatever it’s called. Obi-Wan read the mission brief as thoroughly as he can and he still can’t figure the name out. Is that a fault of his? He can’t remember why it seems so split in the reports but he’s too afraid to ask about it in case he seems incompetent. 

The moment they step out onto the toasty planet, Obi-Wan is desperately trying to hide his excitement and terror through his shields. Thoughts race through his head like a game of pop goes the weasel, the happy ones shut down faster than he can appreciate them.

This is his first mission! 

It might be his last forever. 

He gets to save lives! 

He might never get to again. 

It’s a new planet! 

He’ll probably spend the rest of his life on Coruscant until he grows old and stinky and dies of boredom. 

So it’s perfectly reasonable to be bracing his mental shields like it’s a war zone, just so that Qui-Gon doesn’t feel his constant inconsistency and incompetence of controlling his emotions. His fears aren’t something to be broadcasted, lest he appear ungrateful for the opportunity. There is absolutely no way this can backfire if he acts like the perfect padawan. 

They make their way towards the last known signal from Tahl, neither participating in any passive conversation as they step over branches and beneath leaves. That must be the usual thingie for missions. Like, being super focused and serious the whole way. No talking at all. This is going great.

-

Qui-Gon finds himself more unnerved by the silence than he ever was by the endless noise. He waits for Obi-Wan to strike up a conversation to end this suffocating walk’s oppressive air. 

Obi-Wan never does.

-

They run into the most terrifying group of kids on their way to the signal’s location. The children leap out of trees and bushes with their guns blazing, and Obi-Wan is a hundred percent sure that he’d be a block of swiss cheese if Qui-Gon hadn’t reacted so quickly with his lightsaber to fend off incoming lasers.

At the sight of the blade, several of them stop shooting. One or two empty their cartridges. Qui-Gon deflects them with the flick of the wrist, which is so cool and Obi-Wan wants to learn that right now.

“We saw some like you” A little girl says, brave enough to step forward into the light.

“Did you?” Qui-Gon replies calmly, crouching down to her height to appear less like the giant that he is, “Might you tell me where?”.

She looks distrustful, calculating the risk of even speaking to him. Others around her feel uneasy, some petrified. Nobody is comforted by the sight of the Jedi.

“They took her,” the girl mumbles.

“Who?”

“ Elders ”.

That’s the first time Obi-Wan hears that word used that way. He tilts his head curiously. 

The girl, after gentle prodding and bribery of food, eventually shows them the way. Apparently the kids had been planning to attack the very same base for supplies. 

The closer they get, the less put together Qui-Gon seems. It makes Obi-Wan nervous. One or two of the kids trail alongside Obi-Wan, unsubtly asking him to stay and help protect them or something. He listens passively, and he thinks hard.

Helping people is what the Jedi do, isn’t it?

-

They find Tahl chained in a basement, half dead and convulsing. Poison.

Bant, her young padawan, is near hysterics from where she’s being kept in a literal cage, voice raw from shouting for help for so long. Qui-Gon decides that he’s happy he left Obi-Wan outside to ‘scout things out’ with the other scrappy children. He frantically breaks the chains and holds Tahl to his chest, breathing erratically. 

“It’s going to be okay” he whispers miserably, “you’re going to be okay”.

Bant helps him by opening doors ahead of him while he runs with Tahl in his arms. They need to get to the ship. She’s going to die. They need to get home. She’s going to die.

Qui-Gon doesn’t think he can live with himself without Tahl. Not since they were six, not now, not ever. She’s as much a part of him as his hair, and force knows that Qui-Gon likes his hair. Decades of teasing that hasn’t wavered since he was eleven. Decades of teasing primarily originating from Tahl. 

Qui-Gon has lost enough. He won’t live without Tahl, he thinks selfishly, panic blinding his actions.

As they exit the building, attempting to beeline it towards the ship and save Tahl, Obi-Wan stubbornly refuses to follow Qui-Gon. 

Qui-Gon’s heart shatters as his desperation grows. He knew Obi-Wan was unhappy, but this is.. too much . He’s holding his best friend where any breath can be her last, her padawan is trembling like a leaf all over, and Obi-Wan is refusing to back down about this. Staying with the civil war kids that they didn’t even know existed until an hour ago.

“How can I leave them?” Obi-Wan cries, anger leaking through his shields in such a familiar way that it strikes terror into Qui-Gon.

“It is the will of the Force,” Qui-gon says weakly, hardly a bandaid of a sentence that he’d use against Xatanos at times just like this.

Obi-Wan makes his decision. Qui-Gon does as well. He tells himself that as soon as he makes sure Tahl is in good hands, he’ll come back for Obi-Wan. He’ll protect that child and send him somewhere better. Somewhere with someone who isn’t ruining his life and making him become so quiet.

As they leave the planet, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s fragile mental bond snaps. 

It’s fast. It’s painful. It’s over.

Qui-Gon stares down at his hands helplessly. He can’t tell if it means that Obi-Wan hates him so much that he broke it out of anger, or if the padawan somehow lost his life mere moments after Qui-Gon leaves.

He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t know which one is worse. He doesn’t know what to do.

Leaving Bant with Tahl, Qui-Gon shuts himself away in his room, staring at a little pressed orange flower he keeps with his kit. It is quiet where he curls up around it, holding the delicate pages while envisioning the sounds of endless noise. He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t have the energy. 

He holds it carefully and tries to keep it together.

-

Qui-Gon leaves. Obi-Wan knows what this means. He failed. The padawanship is terminated. Shoring up what strength he has left, he shatters their mental link as quickly as he can. No reason to keep it around if Obi-Wan is here to stay.

-

Tahl is blind. Bant is traumatized. Many padawans won’t even speak to Qui-Gon anymore. He stops returning to his cove in the room of a thousand fountains for meditation. Too many children have commandeered it as a meeting room. He can’t deal with their disappointed expressions anymore.

The day that one of them, Quinlan, refers to him as “Master Jinn” instead of “Maverik” , Qui-Gon shuts himself in his room for a week. 

-

Obi-Wan fights. He wins. He survives.

He grows an affinity for guns and a hatred for killing. Guns protect him. Lives slip away. His shoddy shields are the only thing keeping him together as the living blip out all around him. He wishes he stayed with Qui-Gon. 

-

A year goes by. Nobody bothers Qui-Gon about taking another padawan anymore. Force knows what happened to the last two. 

Qui-Gon has healed quite a bit since then, Tahl seamlessly using her permanent blindness to guilt him into therapy. It sucks. It’s grueling. It kinda works. He’s feeling more at peace, at least, and a lot less guilty for what he’s done. He couldn’t have done anything for Xatanos. He wasn’t prepared for taking on Obi-Wan. He’s.. trying.

Sometimes he still thinks about returning to that planet and searching for Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon has even put in a handful of requests for the Order to run a simple reconnaissance mission. Just to see if Obi-Wan somehow survived. To see if they can complete the original objective that Tahl was sent there for in the first place (an excuse to return, which they see through easily). To know, once and for all, in what capacity Qui-Gon has failed as a master this time.

Obi-Wan is dead. That’s what the mind healers tell him. That’s what Mace Windu tells him. That’s what everyone tells him. Even Tahl. If there’s no bond, there is no one to tie it to.

The mind healers tell him that a Master/padawan bond isn’t something so fickle to be broken on a whim. Qui-Gon thinks about the shut doors both ways in their bond. How he hasn’t actually felt the free flowing of Obi-Wan’s mind like he had with his first padawan and his own master, Yan Dooku. How they never truly developed into something strong enough to even matter. 

They try to reason with him by saying a broken bond is painful and shouldn’t ever be a padawan’s first thought when separated from their master. He shouldn’t keep digging into it like this. He needs to move on. Obi-Wan is dead. The endless noise is over. He had no reason to break the bond. You have to accept his fate as it is , not as you wish it to be. 

But how? The image of Obi-Wan, a bout of threatening romance books and freshly pressed flowers. Obi-Wan, who has shouldered all the shit Qui-Gon tries to use as a lesson in asking for help. Obi-Wan, who is just a kid. It haunts Qui-Gon every night. He can’t just forget the youngling. He doesn’t want to.

Then the mission call comes for a planet called MeliDaan, where a treaty of peace is being signed. Qui-Gon is one of six masters and five padawans being called to seal the deal as witnesses to the signatures. 

Qui-Gon recognizes it as the planet of his nightmares. He almost doesn’t go, fearing that the mind healers are right. Obi-Wan is dead. He knows this. He knows it. But Tahl has her dickish ways of persuasion, so Qui-Gon boards the ship with quiet grief and terror. 

They arrive. It’s a mess in every way possible. The politics are all over the place. Half of the negotiators are under the age of fifteen. One has been wiggling a loose baby tooth during the meetings. 

There is obvious distrust and dislike for the idea of peace. The Daan leaders sneer at the kids, threatening gazes burning hot coals into the children like a wildfire. The Melida’s cold expressions glaze over the youngest to try and pry for weaknesses. Neither Melida or Daan like the terms against warfare the young present. 

The Jedi do their best for a calm atmosphere, but it doesn’t matter anyways. Never once do any of the kids back down. Iron spines and determined spirits. They know why they’re here. They don’t care if it’s their parents or if it’s war mongrels across the table from them. They are either going to get their way, or win the war trying. 

Qui-Gon is repeatedly impressed and disheartened at how the planet has been left. How he left it. Orders or not, he should’ve pestered harder for a position here. Obi-Wan’s death regardless, he should’ve tried to post at least a single Jedi to overview the Civil war before it got so far out of hand. Children soldiers. It’s worse than he remembers.

Day one, Qui-Gon and the rest of the Jedi meet the Young’s representative; Cerasi, an optimistic but tired teenager that started the whole movement. Day two, they meet Nield, her partner in crime and a skeptic of anyone not in his faction. 

The third day.. 

The third day, the signing of the treaty day, a familiar mop of red hair stands alongside the two other children as they present their findings. Qui-Gon couldn’t give a rat's ass about what’s on the stupid contract, running before his companions can even ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing.

Obi-Wan is up in a bone-crushing embrace before the kid can even react. Qui-Gon is aware that he’s freaking out a bunch of other war-torn kids around them, but not much else matters except for the fact that Obi-Wan is alive. He’s alive and he feels so light.

In the force and in weight. Qui-Gon doesn’t hide his tears as he cradles Obi-Wan’s dirty mop of hair close to his chest, feeling his padawan’s tiny arms wrap around him in turn. Obi-Wan survived. Qui-Gon left him for a year. Swallowing bile, Qui-Gon sets down his padawan with growing apprehension.

Obi-Wan looks sickly and small. All of the kids around him do. But against all odds, he looks happy .

“I’m so sorry” Qui-Gon says weakly, an entire year’s worth of apologies and grievances hiding in his throat.

“You came back” Obi-Wan responds, beaming.

Kark.

Chapter Text

Even reunited, their Master/Padawan relationship is rocky. Obi-Wan is scarily quiet now, in voice, mannerisms, and personality. He hardly speaks at all to anyone. Not even Quinlan, who pokes and prods him like he’d never left. They only really seem to be alright because Quinlan does more than enough talking for the both of them.

Obi-Wan was once an endless noise , much like Xatanos. 

Now, he’s a ghost. So quiet in his words, his thoughts, his force signature. A perpetual silence instead . It’s like he floats around the temple, haunted and invisible. Qui-Gon misses the chatter and energy that pooled from him before. 

Obi-Wan traverses the temple like he’s still at war, concealing his presence so strongly that sometimes it takes a moment for Qui-Gon to spot him on the force. It’s unnerving and sometimes worrisome, being unable to find his own young padawan’s little signature floundering around like it used to. 

The redhead seems unbothered by it, as if the perpetual silence is an unconscious habit instead of an active effort. Obi-Wan doesn’t eat crunchy foods if he can help it, sticking to soft, silent meals instead. He avoids training with a partner anymore, too wary as he stares down his same-age opponents before he wins. He’s worse with adults. Obi-Wan doesn’t laugh, or cry, or yell, or ramble.

The only time Qui-Gon ever really hears his voice anymore is in short sentences and nightfall’s gentle snoring. 

Obi-Wan never complains, though. 

Until Bandomeer