"Master?"
"Obi-Wan."
"Do you ever get bored?"
Qui-Gon looked up from his data pad to see his apprentice regarding him with interest. He lifted an eyebrow at the boy's abrupt question. "Bored, Padawan?"
"Yes, sir."
Qui-Gon smiled. "Why do you ask?"
Obi-Wan pushed himself to a sitting position on the floor. "I'm just... curious."
"Are you bored, Padawan?"
"Well... not really. But... maybe, sometimes, yes."
Qui-Gon laughed softly. "What a decisive answer, Obi-Wan."
The boy blushed. "Master," he said defensively, "I asked you first."
"So you did," conceded Qui-Gon. "Very well, then." He thought for a moment, then announced with certainty. "I find I am rarely bored."
"Really?!"
"Restless, yes," Qui-Gon allowed. "Impatient, unfortunately, at times. But rarely bored."
This seemed rather amazing to Obi-Wan. "But... how? I mean, the negotiations today. They seemed endless. And so little got accomplished! Everyone talked in circles, and when the session concluded, we seemed no nearer to an agreement! Tomorrow we meet again, and... Master, doesn't it make you tired?"
"Occasionally tired. Sometimes exasperated. But not bored. Negotiation is a process, Padawan. And even when it seems no progress is made, I know we are preparing for something greater. It's far from boring."
Obi-Wan looked doubtful. "Okay. Well, how about now. Times like now when we're both studying. Again. Another evening, sitting here. Reading. With me. Does this ever bore you?"
"We're not reading, Padawan, we're talking."
Obi-Wan scowled at him.
"I'm sorry," apologized Qui-Gon. "I do know what you mean. And no, this doesn't bore me. I cherish evenings like this." He smiled serenely. "Besides, when we tire of this, we'll meditate."
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "I think you're making fun of me."
Qui-Gon set his data pad aside and looked fondly at his apprentice. "I may tease you, Obi-Wan, but what I said is true. I am at peace when we sit here together. I'm... at home."
Obi-Wan looked touched by this answer. "Me, too," he said with a smile, and settled back onto the floor to resume his studies.
Obi-Wan sat up. "Master?"
"Hmm?"
"If you couldn't be a Jedi Knight, what would you want to do?"
"Work in the Agricultural Corps," was Qui-Gon's immediate reply.
Obi-Wan snorted. "Come on. I'm serious."
"So am I," said Qui-Gon.
Obi-Wan gaped at him. "You'd want to be a farmer."
"Yes."
"You would not!"
Qui-Gon frowned. "You're displaying an initiate's prejudice against the Corps, I see. What is it that you feel is beneath you, Padawan? The scientific challenge? The physical demands? Perhaps the pleasure of nurturing life. The satisfaction of feeding thousands?"
"...oh. I didn't think of it that way."
"Clearly not."
"It's just... I pictured you as a senator or a diplomat, I guess."
Qui-Gon shook his head. "Too many bureaucrats."
Obi-Wan smiled quizzically at him. "But you're excellent at handling bureaucrats."
"That does not mean I wish to be one, however."
"I see. A healer, then? You would be an extraordinary healer, I think."
Qui-Gon looked thoughtful. "I considered that for a time, actually. It's a fascinating discipline. Very demanding, very rewarding. I believe I would enjoy it, on a frontier world, perhaps. Not at the Temple."
Obi-Wan seemed surprised at that, so Qui-Gon continued. "I love the Temple, Obi-Wan, but I am not fond of Coruscant. I wouldn't care for a position that kept me there permanently."
"I understand," Obi-Wan nodded. He gave his master a long, measuring look. "So. AgriCorps, huh?"
Qui-Gon gave that half-smile of his. "You're appalled, aren't you? Did I ever tell you I worked for the Corps for nearly a year? When I was 15, Master Yoda accepted an extended mission without me. He felt, with my affinity for the living Force, that a term with the Corps would be ideal."
Obi-Wan looked horrified. "He left you? For a year? And sent you to the AgriCorps? You must have felt like he was punishing you!"
"Certainly not. I embraced the assignment with eagerness and enthusiasm," said Qui-Gon placidly.
Obi-Wan looked askance at his master but could sense no sarcasm in his voice. That was pretty typical, though. Even when Qui-Gon indulged in the most outrageous irony, his tone rarely betrayed him.
"But," said Obi-Wan, "a year?" He couldn't imagine being away from his master for such a long time.
"Obi-Wan, a year means very, very little to a creature with such a long life span. In Yoda's view, he was sending me to summer camp."
Obi-Wan shook his head in sympathy for young Qui-Gon. "And?" he prompted, "What was it like?"
"It was wonderful," said Qui-Gon, and this time Obi-Wan couldn't question his sincerity. "I was sent to Jenalon IV."
"Jenalon IV? Nice assignment. That planet is a virtual garden."
"Thirty years ago, it wasn't. Jenalon was suffering from the effects of a generation-long civil war, and an extended drought and famine. Environmentally, much of the planet was a disaster."
"That's hard to imagine, now."
"I know."
"What did you do there?"
"Many things. I worked for a while with the government's Department of Agriculture, learning environmental public policy. I interned in a genetics lab developing disease-resistant hybrids suited to local climate and soil. I did fieldwork with the Forestry division, the Field Crops division, and the Planetary Parks division."
"That actually sounds interesting."
Qui-Gon laughed. "It was! But, Obi-Wan, the best part was the two months I spent in a village in the southern hemisphere. The Beshai tribe was quite primitive, and hard-hit by the famine. My team worked with them to build an irrigation system -- rudimentary, but effective -- which tripled their yield of banyon, a local grain."
"I've tasted banyon. It's good."
"Mm hmm. And it's now Jenalon's primary export. We helped the Beshai cultivate land that had gone fallow through drought and neglect. And we were able to reintroduce several indigenous vegetables to the area as well. The tribe's health improved dramatically."
"That's terrific. What were they like? The tribe."
"Very gracious, and very welcoming to us. Their culture was fascinating. They would sing as we worked in the fields, Obi-Wan. Improvised rhythms that built to an incredible crescendo. It was exhilarating. I'd love for you to hear them sometime. I'd like to take you there."
"A vacation, Master?" Obi-Wan seemed surprised.
Qui-Gon smiled. "And a learning experience, of course. I'd like to see how things have changed. Thirty years ago, village life was harsh, the food was poor and scarce, and the work was often brutal. But each night after meditation, I would lie on the pallet in our hut and fall into the best sleep I've ever known. Those months living and working with the Beshai were unforgettable, Padawan. They were wonderful."
Obi-Wan gazed up at his master, at the light in his eyes and the animation in his usually tranquil features. "Master, I... I'm sorry for my ignorance. When I was assigned to the AgriCorps, I felt as though I'd been given a prison sentence."
"I know you did, Obi-Wan. I didn't think you were meant to be a farmer back then, any more than you did. And I'm certain of it now. You were destined to be a Jedi Knight, Padawan. And there is nothing I would rather do than serve as your master."
Obi-Wan grinned. Suddenly he fell backward into a roll, pushed himself up into a handstand, and vaulted to his feet. "I'll make some tea," he announced, and sauntered off to their small kitchen area.
Qui-Gon smiled to himself and picked up his data pad.
"Master?"
"Yes, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon was absorbed in his reading, but glanced up to accept the cup his apprentice handed him. "Thank you," he murmured.
"Master, you have been afraid before, right?"
"Of course I have," was the distracted reply. Qui-Gon continued in a masterly manner, almost by rote. "Fear is a formidable foe, Padawan. But it is recognizable. And conquerable."
"What is the most scared you've ever been?"
Qui-Gon was looking down at his data pad, but Obi-Wan could tell he had stopped reading. Quietly, Obi-Wan dropped to his place on the floor and waited for Qui-Gon to speak.
His master was obviously deliberating. Obi-Wan started to feel uncomfortable, and sorry for having asked such an apparently personal question. He was about to apologize when Qui-Gon spoke.
"An image comes to mind," he said without looking up, "of my apprentice drawing his lightsaber against me."
Obi-Wan froze. A shadow of understanding stole over his heart, and his breath seemed to leave him. Slowly, he swallowed and said, "You are not speaking of Xanatos."
Qui-Gon looked up and held Obi-Wan's eyes steadily and calmly. "No. I am not."
Obi-Wan bit his lip. He had expected an adventure story in response to his question. Something thrilling, about danger, desperate battles, impossible odds. He replied awkwardly, "Oh. I didn't... read you well. I saw... pain. And anger. But not fear."
"There was fear there," Qui-Gon said evenly. He studied the boy across from him. "Are you certain you want to hear about this, Padawan?"
Obi-Wan paused, then nodded. "Yes. I am."
"Very well." After a long moment, Qui-Gon began. "It was dreamlike, in a way. Unreal. There was a strange sense of familiarity, of inevitability. But instead of seeing Xanatos' face -- a face that has haunted me -- I saw you. You. Your face." He shook his head as though to clear it.
"How long did we stand there, I wonder?" asked Qui-Gon. "With sabers drawn. It felt like an instant. It felt like hours. I knew if you moved I would fight you. As an adversary. And I knew I would beat you. Possibly harm you. I was ready, but the dread was overwhelming. I could have wept when you lowered your weapon.
"But...." Qui-Gon closed his eyes. "When you handed your lightsaber to me.... The scene was so distorted, somehow. Grotesque, like an ugly joke. I felt a flash of something like terror as I stared down at your saber. And then... nothing. I felt nothing at all. A void. A familiar void, to be sure. An emptiness I used to feel as a matter of course. It was almost comforting. Similar, I suppose, to how a drowning man feels at the end.
"I took your saber, turned my back and left. I have no recollection of taking off. None."
Obi-Wan drew a long breath. "What's the next thing you remember?" he asked quietly.
Qui-Gon thought for a minute. "Fixing soup for Tahl, I think. The next thing I knew, the ship was in hyperspace and I was in the galley making soup." He gave a sudden laugh. "Banyon stew, come to think of it. I learned to make it on Jenalon. Tahl said it was delicious."
Obi-Wan smiled timidly. "Was it?"
"I don't know. I didn't eat any."
"Oh."
Qui-Gon drained his tea, which had gone cold. He set his cup down and gave Obi-Wan a gentle look. "You seem so stricken, Padawan. You know we've moved beyond what happened on Melida/Daan. Those times are gone."
"Gone, maybe, but not forgotten," said Obi-Wan sadly.
Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows. "Do you intend to forget, Padawan? I certainly do not."
"No?"
"No. How can you hope to benefit from your experiences if you forget those most painful to you? I would not dishonor that time by forgetting it."
"I see."
"The complicated part, as you know, Obi-Wan, is releasing the dark emotions that shadow a painful experience. It is a particular challenge for me, I find. But once you turn the shadows to light, you can see the truth with clarity."
Obi-Wan nodded his understanding, but Qui-Gon sensed his unease. "Padawan, I refuse to forget what we have endured together. I will hold on to it. But please don't confuse that with holding a grudge."
For perhaps the thousandth time, Obi-Wan felt flooded with relief that he and Qui-Gon had found their way back to each other. "I won't forget, my Master," he pledged, and the possessiveness in his tone made him blush.
Qui-Gon merely smiled.
Qui-Gon looked up as Obi-Wan switched off his data pad. The boy moved to a sitting position on the floor and motioned to his teacup, barely out of reach. The cup slid smoothly to him, and he drank.
"You could have just leaned over," Qui-Gon remarked dryly, and Obi-Wan choked a bit as he laughed into his tea.
"Unnecessary use of Force can become a bad habit, Padawan. It... unnerves people."
"Yes, sir," the apprentice said with a grin. He stood, and collected his cup and Qui-Gon's. "More, Master?" he asked.
"No, thank you."
Qui-Gon listened as his apprentice rinsed the cups in the kitchen and slowly wandered back into the room.
"Master?"
"Yes, Padawan?"
"Do you have any bad habits?"
"Absolutely none, Padawan."
"I assumed as much," was Obi-Wan's airy reply. Over time he was beginning to understand when his master was joking.
Obi-Wan bent to retrieve his data pad, and he straightened with a yawn.
"It's getting late, Obi-Wan," his master observed. "Meditations, then bed."
"Yes, Master." The boy hesitated, then, "Master, may I ask you a question?"
Qui-Gon looked archly at him for a moment. "Padawan, tell me. Did I assign you an essay that I've forgotten about? 'My Jedi Master' by Obi-Wan Kenobi? In one million words or less?"
"Um. No." Obi-Wan wasn't sure how to take his master's teasing. Qui-Gon was a private man. Had he been too intrusive with his questions? He hadn't meant to pry.
Qui-Gon stretched out a hand to his suddenly shy apprentice. "Padawan, come here. Sit down." Obi-Wan did so. "You may ask me anything, Obi-Wan. Anything at all."
"Oh. Well, I was wondering.... Master, are you ever lonely?"
Qui-Gon looked thoughtfully at his young apprentice. "Lonely," he repeated. "Obi-Wan, I have recently come to realize that I spent a good portion of the last ten years lonely. I didn't realize it at the time, but nevertheless it's true. But to answer your question: No, I am not lonely. Not ever. Not anymore." He smiled warmly at his padawan, who seemed rather emotional suddenly. The boy looked down to hide his shining eyes.
Qui-Gon tugged on Obi-Wan's braid, then gave him a nudge. "Go on. Bedtime."
Obi-Wan nodded and moved toward his room.
"Padawan?"
"Yes, Master?"
"When you write your essay, be honest. Or -- better yet -- make me sound heroic. That might be pleasant to read."
Obi-Wan smiled. "I believe I can accomplish both, Master."
"Flatterer. Sleep well, my Padawan. And in case you were wondering, my favorite color is green."
"I know it is. Goodnight, my Master."