Qui-Gon awoke before dawn.

He lay on his back, his breathing shallow and insistent, waiting for his startled system to slow. The room, cloaked in darkness, seemed strangely ominous, and the silence in his apartment sounded almost like a whine, pitched just high enough to set his nerves on edge. He forced a deep breath, trying to will his mind into calm. Drawing on the Force, he sensed Obi-Wan and Kerge’s signatures, both draped in the quiet of slumber. Even Jes lay curled outside his doorway, dreaming kitten dreams.

Though he sensed utter peace around him, Qui-Gon felt none of it. His entire body had tensed, as if some malevolent creature lay in wait at the bottom of his closet. The sensation left him disturbed and bewildered. How had this eerie chill slipped into his brain?

He sat up slowly, pulling a loose white tunic from the end of his bed. A quiet groan passed through his lips as he stretched his shoulders, the muscles still stiff from sleep. Meditation, he thought. I need to focus, to shake these nagging distractions. Moving from the room without a sound, he stepped over Jes, who only looked up at him to blink twice before resuming her sleep.

A Jedi learned to meditate anywhere, under any set of dire circumstances, and Qui-Gon had practiced everywhere from jail cells to palaces lined with silver. Yet few places pleased him as much as the small chamber at the end of the hall in his own apartment. It was not much larger than the ‘fresher, really, and more sparsely furnished than any other room. A small circular window near the ceiling let in a thin wash of moonlight, giving him more than enough light to see by. He sat on the woven oval rug, running his hands over the worn fabric. It had been a gift from Bel-San, something he had found while on a mission with his master. The colors, once brilliant, were now faded with age, yet it still seemed beautiful to him. On each of the four walls, he’d placed stark line-inked paintings, one completed during each of the four decades he’d been alive.

Settling himself, he closed his eyes, feeling his heartbeat slow as he opened his mind to the Force. In moments, the lingering darkness of his dreams vanished, dissipating in the warm light of the Force. Its consuming presence washed over him, and all at once he was wholly himself and yet wholly other. The Living Force poured its calm into him, and he let it seep into the deepest parts of his mind.

In that moment, he felt certain and secure, centered as a planet core. It wasn’t confidence, or pride, but the assurance that could only come with the Force’s intervention. The doubts that loomed over his mind—concern over Payter’s mission, the tremors in his relationships, the state of the Temple in general—fell to dust, swept up and carried away.

After a time, however, he had to withdraw, opening his eyes. The feeling of calm still lingered, but it was as insignificant as a glass of water compared to a sea. A thought that often came to him in these first few minutes after meditating bloomed in his brain, and he pondered it yet again. Would it all be easier if I favored the Cosmic Force?

He heard the sound of small feet hit the carpet, and the immediate purring of the cat, mewing quietly for food. Moving to his feet slowly in deference to his stiffened muscles, he shook his head. Living or Cosmic, he thought, I’m not sure there’s such a thing as easier.

***

Qui-Gon eyed the three place settings on the table, confused. “Alla? Is Keleran eating with us?”

His former padawan carried in a tray with three cups of steaming tea. “Not as such. She’s in class. Utopian Governments and Why They Fail, I think. I invited Bel-San over.” Her eyes searched his, as if asking for permission, yet he knew she would never admit to that. “I try to help him out with the meal situation now that he keeps odder hours, since he did that so often for me when I was younger.”

He nodded, pleased by the news, though things still remained a bit tenuous between them. “It’s good, actually, because there’s something I need to talk to you both about.”

“That’s a very serious tone of voice, Master,” Alla said, her mouth partly turned by a smile.

“I know.”

Alla’s smile faded, and she touched his arm, her mirth departed. “Is there something wrong?”

The sound of the slide door gave him leeway to dodge the question, and Bel-San entered, his hair still slightly damp from the ‘fresher. “Smells good, Alla,” he said, giving her a smile.

“You’re obligated to say that now.” She turned towards the kitchen. “I’ll be right out, okay?”

Qui-Gon gestured towards the table. “You should sit while you can; I heard they’re kind of rough on new Healers.”

“You don’t know the half of it. It is kind of like being a padawan again, except without the geeky hairstyle and acne,” Bel-San replied dryly, but his eyes held a spark of levity. “However, as I recall, your hair was always much worse than mine.”

“That’s because Sy-Mon had a sense of style. Yoda, as we all know, does not.”

“And he quite effectively passed it on to his padawan learners.”

Qui-Gon sighed, sliding into a chair. “Brown goes with everything.”

“So you’ve always said.” Bel-San sat across from him. “But you, you’re really not in the bantering mood. Something up?”

Aware that the two people he was about to dine with knew his temperament more acutely than practically any other Jedi, he wondered why he even bothered with small talk. “There are a few things going on that I’m not too sure about.”

Alla emerged, passing out bowls of soup. “Is this about Payter?”

“No. At least, I don’t think so.” He touched a hand to his forehead, trying to find the right words to explain. “I woke up in the middle of the night with a bad feeling.”

The two stared at him, waiting for more, until finally Alla said, “And?”

“I had a bad feeling. A rather nasty sort of bad feeling, like the kind that doesn’t go away even after you release it to the Force.”

“Did you have a vision?” Bel-San asked.

“No, it wasn’t like that. But it felt like a premonition. It felt like…something bad. You know how certain kinds of creatures know when a terrible storm is coming, how they bury underground tunnels or head for the hills? It was that sort of feeling.”

Alla’s brow furrowed, and she took a deep breath. “Did you have any sort of associations with this feeling? Perhaps around a person, or a place, or…”

“No.” Qui-Gon scoffed, and then apologized. “I’m frustrated, because this isn’t the way that the Force generally works with me. It feels like I’m staring down a well, and I can barely see a thing, let alone know how deep it is.”

“You’re sure,” Bel-San said, his voice quiet, “that it’s not a physiological reaction to the changes going on in your life? You may not be getting enough rest, or—“

“I know what you’re thinking, and I wondered it myself, but the more I think about it, the more sure I am that this is something not from me, and I don’t understand why the Force is trying to tell me this way if I can’t understand what it means.” Qui-Gon let his head fall back against the headrest. “The nudges I get from the Force are rarely very vague. When I get a message, it hits hard and fast.”

Alla and Bel-San exchanged glances. “You’ve always been deeply rooted in the Living Force, Master, so when the Cosmic Force is speaking to you, it must seem strange.”

“But why would I be feeling something and the two of you aren’t getting a thing? It makes no sense.”

“I don’t know, Qui-Gon, but it certainly bears watching.” Bel-San took a drink of his tea. “It may be nothing, it may be a warning. We can’t know yet.”

Qui-Gon frowned, grumbling. “Unifying Force, yeah, right. Not very Unifying if it connects giant gaping nothing to absolutely nothing.”

His former padawan’s hand brushed his arm, and she gave him a slight smile. “We’ll help. Don’t worry.”

Qui-Gon stared at his hands, studying the web of lines that graced his palms. “I wanted you both to know, because I am worried. If something is coming, you’re the first two Jedi I need by my side. And even if it’s not, well, I still need you.” A silent sigh passed through his lips. “Obi-Wan and I are supposed to leave in two day’s time for Davilsdel. I promised him some time together. Now, though, I’m not sure I should leave the Temple.”

“I remember when we went, Master,” Alla said, a fondness entering her tone. “I saw some beautiful things there, things I’ve never forgotten. Obi-Wan will really enjoy it.”

Bel-San met his gaze. “If you’re concerned about Kerge, don’t be. I’ll be more than happy to put him up, although I can’t guarantee the place will be very clean.”

Qui-Gon felt a bit taken aback. He’d expected them both to try to convince him not to leave. Part of him wondered if that’s what he had wanted. “You’re sure the trip is a good idea? Given what I told you?”

Lacing his fingers together, Bel-San leaned over the table. “Here’s the thing, Qui-Gon. You had a bad feeling. And yes, it may be very important. But interesting thing about the Cosmic Force…it wants you to follow your path. Occasionally it may point you in another direction, but it’s a bit more hands-off than the Living Force. I think you should spend some time with Obi-Wan. He’s a bit more balanced than you that way; maybe he’ll see something you won’t. Regardless, it would be good for you to get your feet off this planet for a few days. I promise we won’t let the place fall down without you.”

***

“Master! I want to sit there.” Obi-Wan pointed down at the pilot’s seat, grinning.

“All in good time, padawan,” Qui-Gon said, stowing his bag in the back of the small shuttle. It wasn’t truly fair to call the vehicle a ship, as it wasn’t made for deep space travel, but it would get them to Davilsdel without problem. Still, he noted with a certain satisfaction, it was far newer than most of the crafts he’d been given previously.

“Seriously, Master, I want to pilot.” Obi-Wan had been beyond excited since before he’d gone to sleep last night, and he knew that the boy would need to go to bed early tonight. Davilsdel was a small holding, not much larger than a moon, but it was truly lovely country, and he had wanted to spend some quality time with his padawan, since he felt like they’d been a bit lacking in that department of late.

Qui-Gon slid into the pilot’s seat, powering up the shuttle. “That seat’s for you. The one next to me.” Obi-Wan jumped into it, his eyes following each movement of Qui-Gon’s hands. It honestly wouldn’t surprise him in the least if the boy would be able to get the ship off the ground, but he wasn’t ready to let him try.

Their takeoff passed uneventfully, though Obi-Wan looked rather green until they moved out of Coruscant’s main airspace. He’s not going to be a terribly good pilot, Qui-Gon mused, if he can’t get over that motion sickness at some point. As he left the Temple behind, Qui-Gon felt his apprehension return, and his chest tightened. He hoped he’d made the right choice by not postponing their trip.

“It’s really good to see you, Master,” Obi-Wan said suddenly, his blue eyes meeting Qui-Gon’s with gentle warmth. “Not that I don’t like Kerge or anything, even though he can be a pain sometimes, but it’s nice to see just you.”

He returned the boy’s smile, reaching out to ruffle the boy’s hair. “I know what you mean.”

“Hey, do you think that we should have brought Jes? I read that on Davilsdel they have a lot of fish, because they have a lot of rivers and stuff.”

“I don’t think Jes likes flying very much.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “But I do. It’s the best.”

“You must be feeling better,” he said, checking reflexively along their bond to make sure the boy wasn’t still feeling poorly.

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan said, shrugging. “Um, how old were you when you got to fly your first ship?”

“I was a lot older than you, I can tell you that.” Qui-Gon sat back, letting the navigational controls take over their course.

Making a disgusted face, Obi-Wan threw his legs over the chair’s armrest, flopping back as far as the seat restraints would let him. “I can’t do anything. Seven is a stupid age. I can’t wait until I’m older.”

Though a laugh threatened to spill over, Qui-Gon forced it down, nodding sagely instead. “I suppose it must feel like that sometimes.”

The boy sighed, rolling his eyes. “It feels like that all the time.”

“So there’s really nothing fun about being seven?”

“Nope.”

“What age would you rather be?”

“Older.”

“Like, say, twenty?”

Obi-Wan gaped at him. “I said older, Master, not old! Like thirteen. Then I would get to pilot my own ship.“

“And do your own laundry. And take the Logistics exams.”

The boy sobered a bit at that. “But I’d have a lightsaber.”

“And you’d be far beyond your eleventh forms by then.”

“But I’m only on my second.”

“But you want to be thirteen, right? That’s what you do when you’re thirteen.” Qui-Gon had to admit there was a slight satisfaction in removing the rose-colored glasses, although Obi-Wan was enjoying none of it. “But at least your room will be cleaner. You won’t want to have things like your toys and models and your fish light cluttering up your room, because—“

“Wait a minute. You mean I have to give away my toys?” Obi-Wan’s eyes were round now, and he looked a bit panicked.

“No, you don’t have to, but we won’t be home as much, so you won’t have a lot of time to play with them.”

“But…” Obi-Wan opened his mouth, and then shut it decisively. “I think that maybe thirteen is still too old. That’s what I think.”

“You think maybe seven isn’t so bad?”

“Um, well, it’s not so bad. But I bet eight would be good. I bet I might get to make a lightsaber at eight. And I could still keep my fish light.”

Qui-Gon chuckled softly, and shook his head. “Obi-Wan?”

“Yes, Master?”

He reached out a hand. “You can keep your fish light forever if you want.”

“Really?” Obi-Wan caught it, his small hand still lost within Qui-Gon’s. “Even when I’m not a padawan anymore?”

“Even then.”

***

“Hurry up, Master!” Obi-Wan ran ahead, cresting the top of the next hill. Standing for a moment beneath the darkening sky, already speckled with awakening stars, he felt all at once very small.

His Master came up behind him, pulling out a canister of water. He took a drink, and then passed it to Obi-Wan, and he followed suit. They’d been walking almost all day, and even though he wasn’t going to say anything to his Master yet, Obi-Wan was tired.

“What do you think of Davilsdel?”

“It’s so cool, Master. It’s so…green.” Everywhere he looked, grass covered the rolling hills, which eventually became dark emerald forests in the distance. “I think it’s really pretty.”

They’d been following along a stone wall that ran the length of the country, at least as far as Obi-Wan had seen. His Master told him that the first people to live there had built it, hoping that it would keep out the new people that had arrived on their land.

“I thought when you said it was going to be a wall that you meant it would be tall, like the ones around parts of the Temple, but Master, this wouldn’t keep Jes out.” Obi-Wan ran his fingers along the cool, wet stone.

“It used to be much taller, but with time, it’s fallen away. There are even some places where you can’t even see it anymore, because the ground has changed, covering it.” His Master always seemed to know the answers to his questions.

“Where are we going to stay tonight?” Last night they stayed in a small hostel near the main city, but his Master promised that they’d get to spend at least one night outside.

“I think we should go a bit further, maybe to the next hill? I think there’s a few trees near there, and it would be a good place to make camp.”

They resumed their walk, but Obi-Wan didn’t take off running this time. His pack, though far smaller than his Master’s, felt like it weighed three times as much than it had that morning, and his feet were getting less and less happy with every step.

Darkness was coming, making shadows more pronounced across the landscape, and Obi-Wan looked up at his Master, glad that he was with him. “It gets dark here earlier than at home,” he said, staring up at the stars as they unveiled themselves.

“It always does this time of year. We’re farther north, and they have a longer night here. But at other times of the year, they get sunshine almost all day long.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “I would like that, I think.”

“Hard to go to bed when the sun’s still shining, though.”

“I bet it would be nice and warm, though.” He hadn’t been cold throughout the day, and when he had been running, he’d been hot at times, but the wind had picked up, and he was starting to get chilly.

“We’re almost there. It’s just up ahead. I know you’re tired.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Nope. Not yet.”

“Obi-Wan, we do have a bond, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” Sometimes he forgot. He touched his Master’s mind for a moment, and he knew he wasn’t tired at all. In response, his Master sent him a quick wave of warmth and comfort.

They soon reached the small grove near the wall that his Master knew about, and they each did their part to set up camp. His Master pitched their shelter and started their supper, while Obi-Wan cleared a place for them to sit and eat dinner. He found two big rocks not far from their campsite, and with some help from the Force, he moved them closer, giving them a place to sit while they ate. By the time he finished, he was more tired than before, but it felt terribly good to sit down.

“Very comfortable,” his Master said, finding a seat across from him as he handed him a bowl of thick stew. “Nice job with the rocks.”

Obi-Wan nodded wearily. “They were a little heavier than I thought.” He took a quick spoonful of stew, and he smiled when he recognized the taste. “Did Teacher…I mean, Healer Bel-San make this?”

His Master nodded. “He thought we’d need some really good food for the trail.”

“He was right.” Obi-Wan ate in silence, listening as the birdsong fell away, leaving only the quieter sounds of wind and night.

“I think food always tastes better when you’re outside, “ his Master said, setting aside his empty bowl.

“I think so too. And I think it always tastes better when Healer Bel-San makes it.” Obi-Wan pulled his robe more closely around him, warmed by the stew but still aware of the chill air. “I’m glad you’re friends again. I know he’s busy with his new job but I’m glad that we’ll still get to see him sometimes.”

His Master nodded. “Me too.”

After watching the stars for a little while longer, his Master told him it was time for bed, and for once, he didn’t argue. He couldn’t wait to climb under his blankets and feel a pillow beneath his head. They climbed into their shelter, and his Master turned on the small heating unit in the center.

“That going to be enough for you?”

Obi-Wan stuck his nose out from beneath his layers of blankets. “Yep.”

His Master crawled inside his sleepsack and lay down next to him, and Obi-Wan immediately nudged closer to him. “You did so well today, Obi-Wan. I’m really proud of you.”

“It was just a lot of walking,” Obi-Wan said, yawning.

“It was more than that. I had a really wonderful day. Thank you for coming on this trip with me.”

“No, thank you for taking me on the trip.”

“No, thank you.”

“No,” Obi-Wan said, laughing quietly, “Thank you!”

He laid in the darkness, listening to the quiet, slow breathing of his Master. “Are you asleep yet, Master?”

“Not yet. I think you’ll probably win that race.”

“Can you tell me a story?”

His Master laughed then, rumbling in his chest. “You sure you’re not too old for stories?”

Obi-Wan scoffed. “No, I’m not. I am the perfect age for stories. But not baby ones.”

“Okay. Not a baby story. Let’s see, what story can I tell you…ah!” His Master snapped his fingers. “Okay. I don’t think I’ve ever told you this one.

“Once upon a time, very long ago, there was a Jedi Master. He was brave, and very powerful, and he was very wise in the Force. He had been to many planets, and helped many people, but he still felt restless. After traveling to many places, he came to the top of a mountain, which was green and covered with flowers. That night, he asked the Force, what shall I do next? Where should I go? But the Force didn’t tell him, and he went to sleep very sad.

“Every night, he asked the Force again, what should I do? Where should I go? But every night, no answer came, and after a time, the Jedi Master grew impatient. If you’re not going to tell me, he told the Force, then I’m just going to go. I’ve been waiting on this mountain long enough.

“He started down the mountain, and he was halfway to the bottom when the Force spoke to him. It told him that he was needed on the other side of the mountain, and that a city could fall if he didn’t get there in time.

“Well, said the Jedi Master, why didn’t you say so earlier? I could have been there a lot sooner, instead of wasting my time up here!

“But, the Force said, you never would have seen this mountain otherwise. There is a time to move swiftly, and a time to stay still. That was your time to stay still.”

Obi-Wan bit his lip, waiting several moments before speaking. “What happened to the city?”

His Master brushed a hand lightly over his forehead. “The Jedi Master saved it. Everything turned out all right.”

Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan thought about the story. “But what was the point? Why didn’t the Force just tell him there was trouble in the city?”

“Because sometimes the Force doesn’t tell us what we don’t need to know until we need to know it. Sometimes we’re just supposed to enjoy the grass beneath our feet, and the stars, and the company of our padawans.”

“Oh. Okay.” He turned over, pulling the pillow closer to him. “That was a good story, but I like the ones where people get captured and rescued and they use their lightsabers. And sometimes there are ships.”

“Maybe tomorrow night.”

Obi-Wan yawned again, very close to sleep. “Master,” he asked softly, “Were you the Jedi Master in that story?”

“No.” His Master sighed, and then said, “But I think I know how he feels sometimes.”

“If it is you sometimes, then you should let me come along. I’ll help you save the city.”

He could feel his Master’s smile, even though he couldn’t see it. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you.”

“Good night, Little One.”

“No, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”