Qui-Gon Jinn glanced at his silent Padawan as the landspeeder cruised across the plains of Corellia. In the past three years of training the boy, he'd come to accept that Obi-Wan Kenobi was not a talkative sort, but neither was he predisposed to brooding. His Padawan was quiet and thoughtful, a good deal less rambunctious than his ordinary counterparts.   But then, Obi-Wan had never been ordinary. He had been taken from his parents by none other than Qui-Gon himself at the tender age of 6 months.  Even then, his midi-chlorian count had been high and the Force found itself drawn to him. 16 years of hard work had earned him his place next to Qui-Gon in the softly humming landspeeder. The breeze over the open air speeder ruffled the short Padawan haircut softly. Qui-Gon remembered his own disdain at the uniform style that he proclaimed as "a mutant womprat in a bad toupee," and had grown out his hair as soon as his Trials were completed. He had said nothing about the stumpy ponytail Obi-Wan had recently adopted. He was actually glad the boy was exhibiting some character. Yoda had been less than pleased and Mace Windu had actually suggested that perhaps he needed to rein in "the child's antics." He disregarded them, maybe because he felt they were wrong, but more likely
because he had a reputation as a maverick, and wanted to keep it.

"I may ask you to tell the parents what a Padawan's life is like," he said, mainly to break the silence.

"What shall I say?"

"Be ever honest, young Padawan. We are not here to fill their heads with pretty lies and glorious ideas. We are here to take their son to a new way of life."

"Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon knew that was the most he would get from the young man this afternoon, and regretted it. There was much to be said, lingering in Obi-Wan's heart. Perhaps the boy would confess his feelings after talking to the family.

"Up ahead, here."

Obi-Wan parked the small speeder in front of a small but neat home, painted a bright and cheerful yellow.

"Delightful little home."

"It looks like a nice place for a little boy to grow up," Obi-Wan agreed.

Qui-Gon glanced at him curiously, finding the comment odd after hours of silence. "Come along," he said instead, walking toward the front door. Obi-Wan took up his position next to and slightly behind Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon knocked firmly on the door, which was opened by a small woman, wiping her hands on a blue-checked towel.

"Good afternoon," he said, cordially, bowing slightly. "My name is Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is Obi-Wan Kenobi. We are Jedi Knights."

"You've come for my little boy, then."

Qui-Gon regarded her gravely. "We have."

"Please, come in." She ushered the two men into a small, but exceptionally neat living area, gesturing to softly padded seats. "Sit down. My husband will be in soon. Let me get you something to drink." She slipped quietly away, disappearing behind a swinging wooden door.

Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon gravely. "I have a bad feeling about this," he said, quietly.

"I feel no disturbance in the Force," Qui-Gon said, worried.

"Excepting the presence of the child. What are you sensing?"

"I don't know." Obi-Wan shrugged irritably. "It's not the Force.   It's something else. This just doesn't feel right."

Qui-Gon did not have time to question him further when the front door swung open and a lean, weathered young man entered.

"Guess you're the Jedi, ain't ya?"

"We are," Qui-Gon replied. "My name is Qui-Gon Jinn. This is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"Yeah. Pleased t'meet ya."

At that moment, the young wife returned from the kitchen with a tray of glasses and a pitcher of a pale pink liquid.

Obi-Wan watched the woman's hand shake as she poured their drinks and wondered if his own mother's had shaken as badly. He found he could barely swallow the sugary juice and listening to Qui-Gon's comforting words was impossible. His mind wandered to his own lost history. Had he been born in a house like this one? Had he once had a mother and father worrying about his future?

"Obi-Wan?"

"I'm sorry, Master?"

"I was explaining that you were my Padawan and hoped you could describe the experience."

Obi-Wan quickly shoved his thoughts away and attempted charm. "Training with Master Qui-Gon never fails to be exciting." And failed miserably. "It is hard, sometimes. The days are long. Sometimes it is frustrating. But the Force flows in me, and I know it. To have control of that is something that never fails to amaze me. If I had to make the choice myself, I would have chosen this path."

"Many children strong in the Force who are not trained seem to have special abilities. Preternatural reflexes, the ability to feel an event before it happens...many are uncomfortable with their peers. Your son will be well trained and helped to harness this special power he has. He will become a protector of peace and justice in the galaxy."

The couple exchanged glances, and the woman stood.

"We don't have much of a choice, do we?" the man asked, heavily.

"I'm afraid not." Qui-Gon waited while the woman withdrew to the nursery and returned holding a small bundle.

"Take care of him," she said, tearfully.

"He's going to become a Jedi Knight," Qui-Gon told her, comfortingly.

Obi-Wan watched him use the Force to soothe the parents. He hoped he didn't overdo it as he had seen him before. He didn't need to be catching fainting mothers.

The woman kissed her tiny son one last time and handed him gently to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan surpressed the urge to hand him directly to Qui-Gon, proclaiming ignorance of babies. The baby was surprisingly warm and squirmed a great deal. Obi-Wan used both hands, praying the baby would not manage to wrestle itself from his arms.

"Master," he said, wonderingly. "I can feel the Force with it."  

Qui-Gon smiled. "May the Force be with you," he told the parents as he and Obi-Wan left the small house. Obi-Wan stared at the baby as they got in the speeder.

"Do you want me to take him, now?" he asked, holding out his hands.

"If you don't mind, Master..."

Qui-Gon smiled at him. "Not at all. I'd be happy to drive this time." He started the landspeeder and turned it away from the house, glancing at his Padawan, who was allowing the small child to grasp his finger with its entire hand.

Obi Wan smoothed the downy hair on the top of the baby's head, letting the Force ease the unrest in the child. "Did we do the right thing, Master?"

"Taking the child to be trained?"

"Taking it away from its parents."

"It's a him, Obi-Wan, not an it."

"If you don't wish to answer the question, Master, just say so."

"You're angry."

"I'm confused."

"Your mind is clouded to me."

"This child will grow to be a Padawan like myself."

"I certainly hope so." Qui-Gon glanced warmly at Obi-Wan. "If he's half the Padawan you are, his master will be very lucky indeed."

"You flatter me, Master."

"I inflate your ego. Which I admit, rarely needs inflating, but you seem unsure of yourself today."

"Who took me away from my parents?"

"Ah. The truth reveals itself. Wondering about your past, are you?"

"You sound like Master Yoda."

"Never say that again."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied, a hint of a smile gracing his face for the first time that day. The baby in his arms gurgled, reaching for Obi-Wan's braid.

"Trust your feelings, Obi-Wan. Who do you think took you away from your parents?"

Obi-Wan looked down at the child, deflecting its tiny hand from his hair, and then up at his master. "You did, Master." His voice echoed his amazement. "You took me? You know everything?"

"Your insight serves you well, Obi-Wan." He cast a fond glance at the Padawan. "I was there. I can tell you anything you wish to know."

"Did she cry? My mother?"

"She tried not to. She was very brave. She was very beautiful.  She had long, brown hair and big, blue eyes. You started to cry as soon as I carried you outside. I heard her start to cry, but I didn't look back."

"Sometimes I dream of her, at least I think it's her, singing me to sleep."

"Your father was not tall, but strong. He was a farmer."

"So I would have been a farm boy."

"Oh, don't worry. I actually saved you a lot of hardship. You had an older brother who would have pummeled the poodoo out of you for years."

Obi-Wan gave his mentor a half grin and lifted the baby to stand in his lap. "This little one will have to be renamed. Master? What was my birth name?"

"Ben Lars. See? You still have the better part of that deal. We took the ancient form of Ben, Obi-Wan, and used your mother's maiden name."

"Ben Lars." Obi-Wan grinned. "I sound like some sort of Podracer. Or a medication."

"You sound like a farmer."

"I want to cut his hair," Obi-Wan said, cradling the baby again. "I want to do it before Master Yoda ever sees him. He'll make some comment about how the Force is so strong with him that his hair grows in the traditional Padawan style."

"My boy, I think you're developing a sense of humor."

"And I want to rename him."

"He's not a toy, Obi-Wan."

"Please, Master. What do you think of Wedge? Wedge Antilles..."

Author's note: I was watching the original trilogy and wondering about Wedge's
amazing feat of surviving each and every movie. I decided that he must have some sort of Jedi heritage, and perhaps his father was one of the Jedi killed in Vader's purges. That would explain Wedge's motivation for joining the Rebel Alliance and we can credit a minor gift of the Force to his amazing feat of survival. Long live Wedge. Now there's an X-Wing pilot.