There was a low buzzing, somewhere near the small of her back. Alla turned over, a slight groan escaping her lips as awareness returned. She sat up slightly on the couch, digging her comlink from underneath her and answered it with one hand, rubbing the spot in her spine where it had made a kink while she slept.

“Alla? It’s Charr’a.”

She yawned, stretching stiff muscles. “You woke me up.”

“Funny thing that, seeing how it’s nearly midday. Must be rough not to have a real job.”

Although Alla heard the laugh in her friend’s voice, she couldn’t help but feign offense. “Yeah, us Masters have it real rough. We never do anything at all, especially not train the next generation of Jedi, or put our lives on the line in the hopes of keeping peace in the galaxy. All we ever do is nap.”

“My heart bleeds for you. Anyway, I didn’t call to chat about your delusions of Jedi grandeur. I’m calling,” she paused, drawing a breath and speaking more quietly, “to tell you I think you need to come down here and get your innoculations for next week’s mission.”

Alla stared at the comlink as if it would convey to Charr’a the look of utter disdain that crossed her face at that moment. “You’ve got to be sleep deprived. You woke me up from a beautiful dream about a beautiful man to nag me about banal things like shots that I don’t even really need?”

“No, Alla,” Charr’a’s voice grew slightly impatient. “I’m saying that maybe you want to come down here to the Infirmary and get your shots. Today. As in, right now.”

“Okay.” Alla paused, rubbing the center of her forehead with her index finger. “I get that you’re trying to tell me something here, beyond the obvious, at least I hope. But what that something is, well, I honestly couldn’t tell you. Why don’t you try just telling me, and then we’ll accomplish that lovely skill known as communication?”

“So much for subtlety.” A guttural sigh passed through the comlink. “Someone’s here. Someone is working here. In the Infirmary. Someone that you might know. Someone that perhaps you might be interested to know is working here too. Someone that wasn’t working here until quite recently.”

“Is he hot?”

Her friend chuckled. “You used to think so. Then again, a lot of us did.”

Alla stopped, her eyes narrowing. “Wait. You can’t be serious.”

“Oh yes. Serious as Glehvan fever.”

Alla started pulling on her boots. “I’ll be right there.”

***

Qui-Gon blew across the surface of his cup to cool his tea, not bothering to ask for sweetner, since his host never had any.

“Seem more grounded, you do,” his former master mused, sitting atop his squat orange chair, also holding a cup of potent blareroot tea.

“I suppose that’s accurate if you’re speaking literally, Master. Neither I nor Obi-Wan will be off-planet for a bit, I think.” Qui-Gon took a sip, burning his tongue, and then pretended not to have scalded every taste bud in his mouth. “But we’ve certainly been on much better footing lately.”

“Good, that is. When his age padawans are, like it when their Masters go away they do not.” Steam from the hot liquid rose up before his face, lending a mystical quality to his appearance. “Speak from experience, I do.”

“Are you trying to say I was clingy?” Qui-Gon gave him a small smile.

“Said that, I did not.” Master Yoda set his lips in a thin line, lifting his chin. “Made you anxious, it did, when off on other missions I was. Though gave you a chance it did to make much mischief.”

“Obi-Wan got that part down, except he didn’t really enjoy the mischief he created. He went straight for physical violence rather than, say, borrowing a Temple speeder for an hour or two.” Qui-Gon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “He’s still meeting with Simone every few weeks. Blast that woman, but she’s actually been somewhat helpful, despite her arrogance.”

Yoda blinked, finally sipping his tea, which had cooled all on its own. “What appears as arrogance to one, my padawan, wisdom to another it is. Right, you do not always have to be. Told you this many times I have. Listen, you still do not.”

“I hear you, Master, I do.” He breathed a slow breath, trying to embody in his spirit the peace of his fomer master’s presence. “But after all these years, I still can’t seem to get things right. I tried to follow the Force’s guidance, and I believed, I still do, that it was the Force’s will that I go after Bel-San. But so many things are broken, many wounds have been created, and to be honest, I feel a bit friendless right now.”

To Qui-Gon’s surprise, his former master chuckled at his words. “Qui-Gon Jinn, friendless, you say? Wrong, you are. Many friends, have you. Always have, since a boy you were.” The faint smile faded to a more serious expression, and he felt the power in his former master’s stare. “Old friends, sometimes, harder to keep they are than new ones. Greater damage you can do, because know one another so well you do.”

“But Master, you’ve had some friends for hundreds of years, for longer than I’ll ever live. How have you been able to do that?”

Yoda shrugged, a thin sigh escaping him. “Takes time, it does. And accepting, you must be, of the changes in your friends and yourself. Stay the same way forever, no one does.” The tips of his ears rose as he paused. “Not even padawans.”

“Especially padawans. You’re right about that.” Qui-Gon finished drinking his tea, which he could barely taste now across his burned tongue. “So you’re saying that my thinking I’m the most hated Jedi in the Order is pretty much all in my head.”

“Most hated Jedi in the Order? What Order do you speak of where hate Jedi do?” His former Master sputtered into his drink, straigtening his posture. “Many martyrs do the Jedi have. Need another we do not. Spend too much time worrying, you do. Focus, you must, on what is next, not the past. What is next for your padawan. What is next for you, hmm?”

“I’ve been thinking a good deal about that, Master, and I think that Kerge gave me a good idea on how I can better use my free time—“

“Ahh, Kerge. A good padawan he has become. A credit, he is, to Payter’s teaching.”

“Yes. We were sparring recently, and I realized how very narrow his lightsaber training has become, thanks to his many missions and time away from the Temple. I think that perhaps I may begin an intermediate class for saber intstruction, with a limited number of students who want to increase their skills.”

“Teaching, you say?” Master Yoda smiled then, shaking his head. “Thought that profession you had abandoned.”

Qui-Gon would have rolled his eyes, had he been talking to anyone else. “A Master is always a teacher. You yourself taught me that. I think it would be a good idea, for me and for them. Too many of the padawans are relying on their own strength and their sabers, not seeking out the Force when they spar.”

“Hmpf. Call your weapon by its true name, you should, not this crude ‘saber’,” Yoda sniffed. “But your idea, like it I do. Learn much, the padawans can, from you.”

The compliment fell with great sweetness on his ears, especially from one who rarely gave them. “Thank you, Master,” he said softly, rising to his feet in preparation to leave.

“May the Force be with you, my young padawan.” Yoda raised a hand, and Qui-Gon turned back to look at him. “This time, Qui-Gon, use it wisely you must. Sense something, I do. Be on our guard, we must.”

***

“So who do you think would win? The rancor or the gundark?”

“I don’t know.”

“Slade, come on.” Obi-Wan held the two figurines in his hand, butting them against one another. “The rancor?” He made a rancor-like bellow, then paused dramatically, “Or the gundark?” he said, finishing with a throaty growl.

His friend rolled his eyes, pulling his arms close to his body as he sighed. “The gundark,” he said dully.

“You’re…wrong!” Obi-Wan made the rancor advance fiercely, then cast the gundark across the room. “The rancor triumphs!” He then loomed the beast over several human figurines. “Let’s hope our heroes have better luck,” he said, narrating like they did on Ancu Darmon, his favorite holovid. He looked back up to Slade for inspiration. “Okay. What happens next?”

Slade mumbled something inaudible.

“What?”

“Said whatever you want.”

“I picked that rancor would win. Now you need to decide.” He held up the humanoid figures, one of which was already missing an arm from a previous encounter with Obi-Wan’s draigon. “Their fate,” he intoned, “is in your hands.”

Slade climbed up onto his bed, tucking his tail along his side. “I really don’t care. You pick.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan bit his lip, confused. “Are you bored? Do you want to play something else?”

“No.” Slade yawned, looking away. “I just don’t feel like playing anything.”

Obi-Wan sniffed, knocking over the one-armed figure with his hand. “Well, I do.” He thought in silence a moment, then leapt up, jostling Slade’s prostrate figure on the bed. “I know! Let’s see if we can go swimming. Maybe Bant will be there. Teacher Heri said she’d take us sometime.”

Slade pushed off his hands limply. “No, Obi-Wan. I just want to sleep. I’m tired.”

“It’s the middle of the day, and you want to nap?” he asked, incredulous.

“Mmm,” Slade sighed, closing his eyes. “A nap would be great.”

Obi-Wan got up, exhaling loudly. “Fine. Take a nap. I’m going home then.” His friend didn’t answer, and he walked down the hallway to the common room where he found Teacher Heri reading on the couch.

“You guys need anything?” She set aside her datareader, giving him a warm smile.

“Um, I need you to call my master, if that’s okay. I need to go home.”

Teacher Heri stood, tucking wisps of hair behind her ears. “Are you sure? You just got here a little while ago.”

“Slade doesn’t feel like playing. He said he wants to take a nap.”

As she spoke, her smile thinned, finally disappearing. “That’s strange. He slept in late this morning; he shouldn’t be tired. Did you guys have a fight or something?”

“No.” Obi-Wan shrugged. “He’s just lying on his bed.”

They returned to Slade’s room, and found him fast asleep. Dropping to one knee at his bedside, Teacher Heri ran her hand across his face, then very quietly said a word that Obi-Wan knew he wasn’t allowed to say, ever. “Obi-Wan,” she said, “hon, I think Slade needs to see a Healer. I’m going to call your Master, okay?”

***

Heri sat in silence, one leg folded beneath her on the chair beside Slade’s bed. When they’d first arrived, she’d pushed aside her anxiousness, trusting the Healers would know what ailed him. Several hours had gone by now, however, and the tests had all proved negative. No toxins, no head trauma, no allergic reactions, no apparent viruses or pathogens. All his levels were relatively normal, except for the fact he was about fifteen degrees cooler than he ought to be, and nothing would wake him.

It rarely registered with her that the child wasn’t human. If it wasn’t for his tail, she thought, and his propensity for always turning up the heat in deference to his cold-blooded nature, I would never think of it. Yet if a human child had Slade’s vital statistics right now, the human would have already died.

She reached over and took his hand, alarmed by how cold it felt. He looked so small, a silver slip of a boy amidst a sea of white sheets. Studying his face, she couldn’t see any trace of pain or sense anything amiss through the Force. In the light, she saw the holes in his earlobes were nearly healed over. Since he couldn’t have a padawan braid, he had chosen to pierce his left earlobe in honor of his Master. Sometime after Rian left, he’d taken the silver hoop out, and the hole had begun to close.

I wonder if we’d know any more right now if I’d taken him, Heri thought, melancholy moving through her mind like a river. He’s never had a true bond before. Would I be able to reach him now? Would I have sensed this illness before it struck him?

Since he’d arrived in her life after Rian’s departure, Heri had known that she was meant to play a role in Slade’s life. The expression in his eyes when Qui-Gon had brought him to her gave her pause; it was the look of a child who needed desperately to know that he belonged somewhere. She knew she’d be able to do that, at least temporarily; she had fostered a few other children along the way, the padawans of a master who had died or for some reason couldn’t finish the apprenticeship. Those children had been her charges for a short time. Slade had been with her now for more than four months.

She’d believed at first he’d be taken relatively soon. The boy was Obi-Wan’s best friend, which meant Qui-Gon would certainly not stand by and let Slade go unapprenticed. Surely he used his nearly legendary skills to pass the word about a talented boy who needed a Master. Unless, she thought, he never tried to find anyone else. Had everybody just assumed that she was going to take him?

It was the one thing she truly agonized over where Slade was concerned. If she did take him, would he always feel that she’d done it out of pity? He might never feel truly chosen, the way he had when Rian asked for him. No padawan wanted to think of himself as a charity case.

But he needs a Master, she mused. He needs guidance, and proper training, and a safe place to grow into the Jedi he’s going to become. And as things stand, I can’t provide that for him as a foster.

She sighed, tucking the warming blankets more closely around his still form.

“How’s he doing?” a voice spoke behind her.

Heri turned, expecting the same older healer that had been with them earlier, but her eyes widened when she saw his face. “Bel-San? What are you—“ She stopped, taking in his off-white initiate robes. “You’re…you’re a Healer?”

“In training,” he said, adjusting the collar of his robe. “I just started my shift and I saw Slade’s name on the roster.” He walked over to the bedside, checking the readouts from the monitors.

“They’re not sure why he won’t wake up,” Heri said, rubbing her hands down her forearms. “It’s like his whole body is shutting down. It just happened suddenly…no apparent cause.”

“That’s very strange,” Bel-San said, shaking his head. “I’ve honestly never seen anything like that.”

“It’s okay. I wouldn’t expect you to know, I mean, you’ve only been a Healer for—“

“No, no.” He waved her off, picking up the datareader by Slade’s shoulder. “I meant in a species that’s cold-blooded.”

“Seen what?”

Bel-San didn’t look up. “Hibernation.”

Heri opened her mouth, then shut it as she got to her feet. “There’s nothing in the Temple Archives that says his species hibernates. I’ve been reading everything I can on his planet, his species’ history…”

“But there’s not much there.”

Narrowing her gaze, she stared at her former collegue. “How did you know?”

“I helped him write a report on his home planet a few years ago. We found out there hadn’t been anyone like him in the Temple for—“

“A hundred years,” Heri finished.

“But what’s interesting about his species is that they’re constantly evolving. What takes us humans thousands of years to accomplish sometimes only takes a generation for them.”

“So they’re acquiring mammal behavior?”

“There’s a good chance. But I think it’s more of a survival instinct for them. About sixty years or so, give or take, some of the major waterways on the planet began to recede. The government decided to do some drilling, hoping to find alternate water sources. They found new reservoirs of water, but it affected the landscape enough to change the weather patterns on the main continent, and it got colder than it ever had before.”

“So you’re saying that the last Jedi like Slade never had that problem, because the species hadn’t changed.”

“Exactly.”

“Bel-San?”

“Yes?”

“Why the hell do you know this? Why have all these full-fledged Healers been running around with looks on their faces like he’s going to die or something and yet you walk in and tell me it’s just instinct?”

Bel-San shrugged, now looking slightly embarrassed. “Maybe because they didn’t have a Master whose scholarly specialty was in evolutionary history.”

Heri blew out a breath, aware of the sudden sense of calm that had snuck into her mind. “Okay. So now what? Do we wait until spring?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” he said. “Where has he been that exposed him to low temperatures?”

“I keep the apartment warm for him,” she said, puzzled. “Oh. Oh my goodness.” She held her hands over her face, then looked out between her fingers. “Okay. This is going to sound silly, but he’s been going sledding for the past week or so with Obi-Wan. They’ve been heading off to the artic environment chamber in the off-hours with some kids from his classes.”

“That would be enough continued exposure to the cold. He’s probably got a gland of some sort that produces a hormone which induces hibernation. That’s how some other species work…” Bel-San trailed off, looking back at her. “I need to talk this over with some actual Healers. It’s just a theory, I mean, I may not be—“

“I know. But you’ve done more than any of them.” Heri gave him a smile, taking his hand and squeezing it. “Thank you. I’m really proud of you, you know. It takes a lot of courage to start over, to leave something you’ve known.”

Bel-San returned her smile, nodding his head. “I appreciate that. I really do. It’s been hard, but a good kind, I think.” He looked at Slade, and then back to her. “I get the feeling that I’m not the only one who won’t be going back to Teaching. Am I right?”

She laughed weakly. “We’ll see. But isn’t being a Master pretty much like Teaching, except with a smaller class?”

“I wouldn’t know. But I think you guys are going to be really happy with one another. He’s been dying for you to ask him.” Bel-San picked up his datareader, turning to go. “I’ll be back soon, hopefully with reinforcements.”

He was almost out of the door when she called out his name. “Bel-San?”

“Yeah?”

“How’s it feel to have found your true calling?”

He laughed. “I’ll let you know when I find it.”

***

Obi-Wan made a face, looking down at his plate. “Heatup dinners again?”

“I promise I’ll get us something better tomorrow night. It was a busy day.” Qui-Gon lifted his fork, pushing at the food on his plate. “Come on. Better eat it when it’s nice and hot.”

His padawan frowned, but started eating anyway. “Do you think Slade is going to be okay?”

“I think that Slade will be okay,” Qui-Gon said, sending up a plea to the Force that the boy’s friend would get well quickly. He didn’t want Obi-Wan to have to deal with any more capital letter issues in the near future. “He’s with Teacher Heri and the Healers. They’ll take good care of him.”

“Master?”

“Yes?”

“Who do you think would win, between a rancor and a gundark?”

Qui-Gon paused, rather betwildered by the question, and then was saved from answering when his comlink beeped. “Master Jinn.”

“Master? It’s Alla.”

“Excuse me,” he said, getting up from the table. He and Alla had been on relatively good terms of late, but he didn’t want to chance any words spoken in front of his padawan that he didn’t want Obi-Wan to hear. “I’ll be right back.”

He moved into the common room, where he’d be out of earshot but still able to see the boy. “Sorry. I’m eating dinner with Obi-Wan.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just called because I found out something that I thought you might like to know.”

“Yes?”

“It’s about Bel-San. I saw him in the infirmary today.”

Qui-Gon felt apprehension clutch at his stomach. “Is he all right?”

“No, Master. He’s in the infirmary because he works there. He’s taken up initiate Healer’s robes.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“Completely. He cut his hair and everything. He looks like a totally new person. It’s a good look for him.”

“I see,” Qui-Gon said, sighing. “Listen, I should get back to Obi-Wan.”

“Got it. I just thought you should know, since you seem to have to go to the Infirmary more often than most Jedi, and I know you’re still avoiding him.”

“Thank you for your subtlety, padawan. It’s much appreciated.”

“No problem. Take care, Master. Oh! And I meant to tell you, Keleran heard about that class you’re teaching now, the lightsaber class. Kerge told her he joined, and now she’d like to be enrolled. I’m going to let her, because I know you’ll kick his little bum if he causes any problems. Right?”

“Of course. Good night, Alla.”

He could practically see her grin through the comlink. “Good night, Master!”

Walking back to the table, he saw that Obi-Wan was no longer pushing his dinner around his plate. The boy was speaking to someone on the wall com unit.

“So he’s going to be okay?” Obi-Wan said, speaking to someone whose face he couldn’t see. “I’m glad. Tell him that I said hi.”

“Who are you talking to?” Qui-Gon asked quietly.

Obi-Wan turned, and made a ‘shhh!’ sound. “I’m on the com,” he whispered fiercely. “Okay. I’ll get his work for class tomorrow.”

As he got closer, he saw Heri’s face in the com visual. “Slade was going into hibernation, and Bel-San knew just what was wrong before anyone else. He’s decided to be a Healer. Did you know?”

“Really? A Healer? That’s weird,” Obi-Wan said, turning back to Qui-Gon. “Hey Master! Did you know that Teacher Bel-San isn’t Teacher Bel-San now? He’s Healer Bel-San.”

Qui-Gon nodded slowly. “Yes, I’d heard that too.”

“Okay, Obi-Wan,” Heri said, “Take care, and I’ll let you know as soon as Slade and I get home.”

“Thanks, Teacher Heri.” The visual clicked off, and Obi-Wan looked back at him, a bemused expression on his face. “Slade was in hibernation. That means he was sleeping a lot. He doesn’t have to go to class tomorrow either. But he’s not allowed to go sledding for awhile.”

“But he’s going to be okay, and that’s what’s important.” Qui-Gon walked back towards the tables. “Let me reheat dinner. I’m sure it’s cold by now.”

“Do you think they did that to Slade?” Obi-Wan asked, following him into the kitchen.

“Did what?”

“Reheated him. Like the dinners.”

Qui-Gon nearly laughed, but he knew his padawan was serious. “Maybe something like that.”

“Master? I heard you were going to teach a lightsaber class. Can I join it too?”

Qui-Gon reached out, mussing the boy’s hair. “I can do better than that. Instead of just having one class with me, I will be your Master for life, and I’ll teach you everything you ever wanted to know about lightsabers, including how to make one.”

“Really?” Obi-Wan’s eyes grew, blue as cornflower.

“Except not yet.”

“That stinks.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “I think I’m going into hibernation.”

“That’s okay. I’ll just pop you in here with the dinners.”

“Master!”