Title: Of Computers and Closets
Category: Alternate Universe, Pre-Slash
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Series: Part of my "Bonding Universe" collection of stories. Not exactly a series -- just a collection of episodes.
Summary: Qui-Gon's computer bites the dust.
Notes: I wrote this ficlet when the m_a list was in an uproar over the archivists leaving. Just wanted to cut through the tension and make people smile.
Feedback: Oh please, oh please! Either in my guestbook or by email would be lovely; I'll take anything.
Disclaimers: Not mine. No money. All hail the mighty Lucas. Thanks and much praise to Anne Higgins for creating her wonderful Bonding Universe and allowing other authors to write in it.

``°°ºº¤oøO§Oøo¤ºº°°``°°ºº¤oøO§Oøo¤ºº°°``°°ºº¤oøO§Oøo¤ºº°°``

Qui-Gon sat at his data terminal, trying to book passage to a resort world for himself and his young bondmate while Obi-Wan fiddled with the strap of a small travel pack on the couch.

The terminal bleeped suddenly and started emitting the most horrendous squealing and grinding noises.

From his semi-sprawled position in the chair, Qui-Gon sat up with a start, and his fingers began flying frantically over the keyboard, trying to outrace disaster. There was a muffled *pop* and an acrid whiff of ozone, and then a single line of text scrolled across the screen.

.....catastrophic memory failure.....all data lost.....

Qui-Gon glared at the uncaring, impersonal screen and said a Seriously Bad Word. In several languages.

Over on the couch, little hands suddenly stopped tying knots in a shoulder strap, and big eyes blinked at the young Jedi Master.

"Quigee?"

Qui-Gon winced and turned towards his bondmate. He'd forgotten the child was there and had spoken carelessly.

"Obi-Wan," he said resignedly, "promise me you won't ever repeat what I just said."

Obi-Wan regarded him gravely. It was clear that whatever had just happened was a Very Bad Thing and was probably Not Easily Fixed. He sighed. Poor Quigee. He worked so hard all the time and had so little chance to rest. Obi-Wan decided that this was something that Quigee needed help with.

The boy hopped off the couch and pattered over to the defunct terminal. He clambered onto Qui-Gon's lap and snuggled into the warm brown robes.

"I promise, Quigee," he murmured into his bondmate's broad chest, then stretched up and planted a juice-scented kiss on a bearded cheek. "We can stay here and have fun. Don't need to go on vacation. You can hide under my bed so's Master Yoda doesn't send you away again," he offered generously.

Qui-Gon smiled in spite of himself and wrapped his arms around the trusting, earnest little sprite in his lap. "Do you suppose I could hide under your bed for a very long time?" he asked a trifle plaintively.

Obi-Wan pulled back and regarded the tall Master doubtfully. "I dunno, Quigee. You're awful big. I never hid anything as big as you under my bed before." His serious little face scrunched up briefly in concentration, then brightened.

"I know!" he crowed. He hopped off Qui-Gon's lap and tugged insistently at one big hand. The slightly bemused Master got to his feet and let Obi-Wan lead him into Qui-Gon's own bedroom.

Obi-Wan marched into the open closet, pulling his unresisting bondmate in after him, and then closed the door.

"There," a small voice said firmly. "You're not too big to hide in here, and Master Yoda won't find you."

Qui-Gon gathered the sturdy little form into his arms. "Ah, my imp," he said fondly, "what am I going to do with you?"

Obi-Wan considered the question. "Build me a fort?" he said hopefully.

Qui-Gon started laughing helplessly, then set about constructing a suitable fort in the cramped space. Obi-Wan ordered him about like a little general until the accomodations were to his liking.

The Jedi Master then found himself playing Galactic Warriors in a too-small closet with a four-year-old crecheling. And that was better than any vacation.

Fin