The viewscreen on the holoviewer flickered once, then came slowly into focus, and Qui-Gon watched as Bel-San’s face appeared, his friend’s face contorted in a yawn. He probably should have waited a while to send a call through, since it was very early on Was-4, but the boys were quiet now, and he didn’t have that luxury very often of late.
Bel-San blinked sleepily. “Hmmf. Why is it we always seem to talk when I’m not awake yet?”
“Because you’re always so chipper in the morning.” Qui-Gon laughed, sitting back on the couch, holding the viewer at eye level.
Bel-San narrowed his gaze at him. “Oh, of course. Wait. You would be the morning person around here, not me. I for one would have been quite content to stay in my little hovel for the next few hours.”
“Well, if you’d rather not talk--”
“No, no. It’s fine. I need to speak with someone who has a decent grasp of Basic for awhile.” Bel-San gave him a brief smile. “So I should probably know better than to ask, but how are things at the Temple?”
“Well,” Qui-Gon began, letting the word die as a heavy sigh escaped his chest. “There have been a few. . .happenings.”
“Oh really?”
“Things have been really hectic over the past few weeks.”
“With you? No. I won’t believe it.” Bel-San put on an expression of mock surprise, lifting his eyebrows. “Your life is never hectic.”
Qui-Gon ignored Bel-San’s sarcasm. “Well, Slade’s been living here, so I haven’t had much time between the two padawans.”
“Slade?” Bel-San’s surprise faded to slight concern. “What, is his master off-planet?”
“You could say that,” Qui-Gon said, taking a breath to keep the bitterness from seeping into his voice, although he wasn’t entirely successful. “Rian’s gone.”
Bel-San’s tone grew quiet. “What do you mean ‘gone’?”
“I mean he resigned. He transferred elsewhere.”
“What? Why would he do that? What’s going on?”
“Things are more complicated. . .” Qui-Gon stopped, trying to focus his thoughts into intelligible phrases. When he realized all he had to explain, the shocking nature of the events seemed to wash over him again, and it wasn’t a sensation he cherished. “Okay. Here’s what happened. Rian never bonded with Slade--”
“What? How could he--”
“It gets worse, Bel-San. Let me finish.” Qui-Gon blew out a breath. “He never bonded with Slade, which is how Slade got abducted--”
“You’ve got to be--”
Qui-Gon held up a hand. “I’m not done. Slade got abducted, and fortunately Obi-Wan had enough of a friendship bond for Payter and I to trace Slade to where he’d been taken. They had him drugged, but they were still on Coruscant, which is why we were able to get him back. Otherwise, well. . .the point is, we did get him back, and Rian left soon after. So Slade has no master, and he’s my charge for the moment.”
A long stretch of silence came between them, and Qui-Gon could see Bel-San’s throat working as his friend searched for words. It wasn’t often Bel-San was struck dumb, and Qui-Gon waited for him to recover.
Bel-San shook his head, his voice quiet. “Is Slade okay?”
“He’s doing all right, considering. But he’s been pretty quiet, which is very unlike him. Physically, he’s fine. But he’s not himself. I haven’t been able to leave either of them alone for very long. And I can’t help but think. . .I could have fixed this.” Qui-Gon scrubbed a hand over his chin, surprised at the measure of relief he felt to say the words aloud. “It’s been a rough experience for both of them, but Slade has suffered so much. . .and so unnecessarily. If I had only paid more attention to Rian. . .if I had even asked. . .he didn’t have a bond with him! I don’t know why I didn’t sense it. I could have prevented the whole--”
“Qui-Gon, stop, right there.” Bel-San held up a hand. “This is not your fault. I’m sure that I’m not the first person who has told you this, but it’s the truth. You’re not responsible for Rian’s failure. You helped save Slade. You’re looking after him now. There is nothing you could have done. There’s no way you could’ve known.”
“But I did, Bel-San,” Qui-Gon said softly. “I knew there was something wrong. I knew it from the start, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. Until it was too late.”
“Okay. This is not about you. At all. I know you feel guilty, and I know you have probably been beating yourself up about this for days, but you need to stop right now. Release it to the Force. Because there is a little boy--make that two--who need you right now.” Bel-San gave him a quick nod, looking him in the eyes. “Slade feels responsible for what happened. I can guarantee you that.”
“Yes, he does.”
Bel-San looked away for a moment, releasing a breath. “I know how he feels. Because I did too. And it doesn’t matter that Rian isn’t dead, because in Slade’s head, he might as well be.” He dropped his hand to his side, his shoulders sagging. “I wish I were there to talk to him. . .he’s such a good kid. He doesn’t deserve that kind of pain.”
“Nobody deserves that kind of pain,” Qui-Gon said sharply, then caught himself.
“He couldn’t be in better hands,” Bel-San said, his tone quiet but reassuring.
Qui-Gon coughed to cover a scoff. The heavy burden of frustration and guilt he carried seemed to lessen slightly as the words he’d kept silent finally slipped out his mouth. “I feel as unprepared to help him now as I did with you,” he admitted quietly.
Bel-San shook his head, his eyes warm. “You underestimate yourself. But then, you always did.” He paused for a moment. “It may be easier for Slade. . .not by much, but he didn’t know Rian as well as I knew my Master. They are looking for a replacement, aren’t they?”
“I think they’re waiting for the Force to reveal someone.” Qui-Gon’s lips quirked involuntarily. “You know, you’ve always gotten along well--”
“Don’t even.” Bel-San rolled his eyes, although he smiled. “You know my feelings on that. My name is not going to have the prefix ‘master’.”
Qui-Gon shrugged, chuckling slightly. “You have to admit, it would be funny. I think Yoda would be near tears laughing with the irony of it all.”
“It would be amusing in theory. Notice I said, ‘in theory’. As in, it’s never going to happen in this universe.”
Qui-Gon snorted. “Yeah. Funny how we say never, and then the Force comes along and changes things. I have a six-year-old ‘never’ in the room next door.”
Bel-San held up a finger, smiling with self-satisfaction. “See, I know better than to go into the Creche late at night feeling sorry for myself. It just spells trouble.”
“Whatever,” Qui-Gon said, rolling his eyes. He always seemed to do that more often when talking to Bel-San. “Listen, when do you think you’re coming home?”
Bel-San’s body visibly tensed, but he tried to smooth over his anxiety by stretching his shoulders. “Why do you ask?”
“There’s some other things. . .going on. . . here. Payter and Kerge have left the Temple. . .I haven’t heard from them yet. But we could use your help.”
“What’s going on?” Bel-San’s voice hushed, his expression strained.
Qui-Gon took in a quick breath. “I can’t really explain it, not without a secure line--”
“What? That’s not fair.” Bel-San scowled, the thin line developing above the bridge of his nose, a sure sign of frustration. “You can’t just leave me hanging like that. What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just--”
“Qui-Gon! I could absolutely kill you. I haven’t left the Temple in years, and I finally get to go on my own mission, to do my own research, and I’m barely gone for two months and you want me to come back already?” Bel-San crossed his arms over his chest. “How about no? I’m sure that you and Payter can handle it without me. You took three years, remember? This is my time, and I am not about to give up on the work that I’ve done so far just because there’s some vague problem going on at the Temple that you can’t...oh wait, that you won’t explain to me. Aren’t there nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine odd Jedi there who can help you?”
Qui-Gon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look. I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”
Bel-San’s lips twisted as he stifled a curse under his breath. “You’re such a jerk. You know I won’t, and I’m just going to wonder what’s going on and dream up situations that are a thousand times more horrible.” Bel-San looked away for a moment, then met Qui-Gon’s gaze again, new strength feeding his voice. “I am staying here. I’m not sure for how much longer, but I’m needed here. The tribe’s been having a little trouble with some outsiders, and they’ve appointed me as an unofficial translator.”
“That’s okay. I mean, I’m glad that you’re doing what you want to do for once.” Qui-Gon nodded slowly. “It’s good for you. As for everything here, I’m sure we’ll figure out something.”
“If things get really dire. . .if you really do need me to come back, then--”
“No. Payter has things under control, I’m sure. You need to stay where you are.” Qui-Gon shrugged, trying to shake off the strained tone of their conversation. “I guess I’ll need to call around for a baby-sitter, though.”
Bel-San smiled a wry smile. “You’re having trouble with two? Well. Maybe you should try thirty in a room, every day, all day.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t have to share a ‘fresher with yours. Or an apartment, for that matter. And did you know Slade was cold-blooded? It’s about ten million degrees in here. I’m ready to move to Hoth.”
Bel-San laughed, a wicked glint in his eyes. “It’s good for you. Maybe you’ll learn a little humility.”
A loud crash resounded from the other bedroom, followed by a series of angry shouts. Qui-Gon winced. “I think that’s my humility calling. I’d better go.”
“Take care. And listen, keep me posted. If there’s anything I can do--”
“I will. Have fun with the natives.”
***
“This is all your fault!” Obi-Wan glared at Slade.
“No, it’s not! You started it!” Slade shouted back, his tail flicking involuntarily.
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
“Did not!”
Obi-Wan felt his Master’s presence as the tall figure filled the doorway. “That’s enough!” His Master eyed them both, his arms crossed over his chest. “What is going on in here?”
“Slade knocked my model over on purpose--” Obi-Wan said, taking a breath as Slade cut in.
“I did not! I was just trying to pick up my stuff, and he started yelling about how I was in his space--”
“You were in my space! I told you not to cross that line. This is my side,” Obi-Wan gestured wildly, pointing at the line of tape along the carpet that divided the room in two, “And that is his side. He crossed the line, Master!”
His Master sighed, stepping into the room, looking down at the tape. “First of all, Padawan, we don’t draw lines like that. Jedi share what they have, even if it means a bedroom.”
“But he broke my model! He did it on purpose!” Obi-Wan cried, mirroring his Master’s pose as he crossed his arms over his chest.
Slade rolled his eyes, and Obi-Wan stuck his tongue out at him. “It’s not broken. It’s just bent a little,” Slade said quietly, not looking up at the Jedi Master.
“Slade,” his Master said, “did you throw Obi-Wan’s model?”
“Only to get it out of my way,” Slade grumbled. “It was on my side. His stuff is always all over the place.”
“Is not!” Obi-Wan said, blowing out a breath. He just didn’t like folding things, or keeping them on shelves, for that matter. Obi-Wan liked his piles. He knew where everything was, even though it looked like a mess to other people.
“Padawan, was it your idea to draw the line?” His Master’s voice was calm, but Obi-Wan knew he wasn’t pleased.
“Yes,” he said quietly, not looking up into his Master’s eyes.
“Slade, why did you agree to it?”
Obi-Wan watched Slade’s gaze slide quickly to the floor. “Um, I just thought I would get some of my own space. Space without his mess dumped all over it.”
His Master sighed again, running a hand down his face. His Master had looked more tired than usual lately, Obi-Wan thought. “Okay. That tape is coming up off the carpet. Right now. You both need to learn how to share this space, and that means you”--his Master pointed at him--“need to pick up after yourself, and you,”--his Master pointed at Slade--“need to be a little more understanding. Not everyone has the same standards of clean. And there will be no more yelling in here, and no more throwing of other people’s things. Is that understood?”
Obi-Wan refused to look at Slade, even though he knew Slade was looking at him. “Yes, Master Jinn.”
“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan echoed.
“And tonight, you are both going to meditate on how you could have handled this situation in a different way.” His Master walked over to where they stood, reaching out a hand to take one of Obi-Wan’s and one of Slade’s, bringing them together. “Now I want you to apologize. Both of you.”
Obi-Wan took Slade’s cool hand reluctantly, finally looking his friend in the eye for a moment. Even though he wasn’t happy with Slade, he didn’t want to be mad at him either. “Sorry, Slade.”
Slade’s gaze slid up from the tops of his boots. “Sorry, Obi-Wan.”
His Master dropped a hand on both of their shoulders, sighing quietly. “Guys, you’re friends. Remember that. Treat each other that way, and you’ll be okay.”
***
“Master?”
Qui-Gon cracked open one eye, sensing his Padawan’s presence. Trying not to think about the hour, he turned over on his back, reaching out through their bond, and he realized the boy’s signature seemed to be wrapped in apprehension. “Are you all right?”
Obi-Wan crept over to his bedside, his small figure a tiny shadow in the darkened chamber. Sitting up slightly, Qui-Gon realized it was raining, quite hard, in fact. Coruscant rarely endured any kind of severe weather, but when something did slip through the climate control, it usually came in a more harsh form. Thunder reverberated off the walls of the Temple, and Obi-Wan jumped, his eyes wide. He tugged on Qui-Gon’s sleeve. “Can I please stay with you?”
A jagged slash of lightning cut across the night sky, followed quickly by another chorus of thunder, and during the momentary flash of light, Qui-Gon saw fear drawn across the boy’s features. “It’s okay, Obi-Wan. It’s just a storm.” He swung his legs off the edge of the bed, lifting Obi-Wan into his lap.
“I know. But I was scared,” Obi-Wan said quietly, his voice muffled by Qui-Gon’s tunic as the boy hugged him tightly. Qui-Gon could feel his Padawan’s tiny heart pounding madly inside him.
“Shh. You’re safe now, Little One,” Qui-Gon soothed, sending a gentle, calming Force wave through his touch as he smoothed a hand over the boy’s chest. “We don’t get storms here very often. This one probably won’t last long. That’s usually how thunderstorms are; they’re very loud, but they stop not long after they start.”
“I don’t like them. They’re too loud,” Obi-Wan said, still clutching the fabric of Qui-Gon’s tunic. “Slade didn’t even wake up. He just laid there sleeping. And I didn’t want to get up, but then there was that big thunder crack. . .”
“It’s okay. I’d much rather you come talk to me than lay in the dark afraid.” Qui-Gon eased them back onto the bed, propping up several pillows and leaning back against them. Obi-Wan shimmied under the blankets, snuggling close to Qui-Gon’s chest as Qui-Gon draped an arm around his shoulders. “You feeling better now?”
Obi-Wan flinched when another boom of thunder rolled across the Temple. “Maybe a little. But I can’t sleep yet.”
Qui-Gon shook his head, stroking the boy’s short blond hair. “Did you straighten things out with Slade?”
Shrugging, Obi-Wan toyed with the worn edge of the blanket, tugging at the loose threads. “I guess so.”
“I know things are kind of strange right now, but they’ll get better. Just give him time,” Qui-Gon said, tucking the blankets more closely around his Padawan’s small form.
Obi-Wan was silent for several long moments, and Qui-Gon sensed the boy wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure he should. “You know, Little One, sometimes you just need to say what you’re thinking.”
A slight sigh escaped the boy’s lips, and he looked up into Qui-Gon’s eyes. “Master. . .please don’t take Slade as your padawan too.”
Qui-Gon drew in a quick breath, closing his eyes for a moment. Sometimes he forgot that his precocious padawan didn’t know much about Jedi protocol. “Oh, Obi-Wan. . .is that what you thought was going to happen?”
“I just. . .I know you said he was getting a new master, but then I thought maybe you meant you were going to--”
“No, Little One. Masters can only have one padawan at a time. Just one.” He reached out and cupped the boy’s cheek in his hand, smoothing a thumb across the feather-soft skin of his face. “And I already have mine.”
Obi-Wan leaned into Qui-Gon’s touch, closing his eyes. “Oh. I thought--I mean, Slade should have a good master,” Obi-Wan said, nodding slightly. “But you’re my Master. And um, I don’t want anyone else to have you. Not even Slade.”
“Well, right now, Slade needs us to take care of him, and be his friends. But you don’t need to worry. You’re stuck with me.” He tugged on Obi-Wan’s braid, giving the boy a hug. “Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah,” Obi-Wan said, his small body relaxing against the pillows. As the rain continued to pelt the sides of the Temple, another boom of thunder rolled over them, but Qui-Gon was relieved to see the boy didn’t jump this time.
Quiet settled across the dark chamber, and Qui-Gon heard the boy’s breathing grow deep and even, his small chest rising and falling as sleep began to work its way over him. Smiling slightly, Qui-Gon watched his Padawan, amazed at how attached they’d both become in such a short time. Sometimes the intensity of the boy’s love frightened him, but Qui-Gon had never been more certain of the Force’s direction.
He felt a gentle tug on their bond; Obi-Wan stirred, turning on his stomach. His eyes flickered open for a moment, and he whispered, “I miss you, Master.”
“I’m right here, Little One,” Qui-Gon said, speaking above the quiet thrum of the rain. “I’m not going anywhere.”
***
Slade sat up groggily, snaking out one bare arm to pull up another blanket from the foot of his bed. Spreading the thick quilt over him, he plunged deeper into the warm cocoon of his sheets, tucking his tail in with him. He knew Master Qui-Gon had raised the temperature in the apartments, but there were still times he couldn’t get warm enough.
Rain streaked across the window in the bedroom as the storm continued to pound the Temple. Slade turned over, facing away from the blasts of lightning that flickered shadows across the room. He closed his eyes against the momentary brightness, taking refuge in the pervading darkness.
Reaching out with the Force, he sought out Obi-Wan’s signature, hoping his friend might still be awake, but only silence reverberated back. Obi-Wan wasn’t in his bed. Slade sighed, pulling the blankets more tightly around himself. Stretching out his senses, he knew his friend had gone to be with his master. Probably afraid of the storm, Slade thought. What a baby.
Thunder cracked right above his head, and Slade ducked his nose under the sheets, gulping a breath. He craned his neck, looking over at the door. Master Qui-Gon wouldn’t mind if. . .he stopped himself, shaking his head. As nice as Obi-Wan’s master was, he was still Obi-Wan’s master. Stiffening his resolve, Slade gave his pillow a half-hearted punch, flopping down on it again. He just needed to get back to sleep. Taking a deep breath, he tried to clear his mind, but another roll of thunder jolted him out of attempted meditation. Thinking back to his last session with Master Adi, he remembered she had told him he wasn’t ready to be taken again; he had to wait until he was truly at peace. Slade blew out a breath; he knew he wasn’t ready yet.
But right then, all he wanted was his master.