Title: Statue

Rating: K

Notes: Apparently, I don't focus enough on Qui-Gon so…here you go. Sort of. Ok, so it is mostly Obi centered, but it has more Qui-Gon in it then I normally have. Anyway, I wrote this months ago and forgot I had it. Hope it is all right.

Qui-Gon looked like a statue. Nothing on him moved. The dust that floated about the cramped room seemed to avoid landing on him. It did not tickle his nose or annoy his throat. The almost nonexistent breeze that limped in the rickety window didn't so much as rustle his neatly tied hair. In fact, Qui-Gon didn't just look like a statue. He had somehow, from Obi-Wan's perspective, turned into stone.

Obi-Wan was defiantly not statue like. If anyone were forced to put a name to the young man, 'worm on a hook' would have been sufficient. The barely there breeze flirted with his braid, brushing it against his neck. After an hour of this, his neck had become somewhat sensitive to the feathery brush. He flicked the braid away and scratched the spot it had touched; sure the wind would stop playing with him. The wind had no inclination to stop.

Obi-Wan turned his attention to the dust. A swirl of the little flakes headed for his face. The young man, though, was faster and pinched his nose with the white cloth he had been given. The dust twisted and turned to settle on his hand and cloth but could not make it through to the moist membrane and cause a sneeze. He inhaled lightly and with caution having no desire to start a coughing fit-again. Shifting in his seat caused a low creak under current noise level. To the Ten'slic, it was a deafening screaming match; to the Jedi, it was the softest of whispers.

The Ten'slic were soft spoken creatures in general. This was due to the fact that they conversed most often telepathically. When need dictated they speak vocally, they did not have a grasp on tone let alone volume. Because of this, Jedi jumped on the change to mediate any dispute that came up, no matter how small. The planet and its people were a haven in an otherwise loud existence.

Obi-Wan sneezed, forgetting to pay attention, and fought the heat rising to his face. To Qui-Gon, it was a small sneeze. To the Ten'slic, it was loud and clear.

"Are you alright, young Jedi," a voice whispered, "Are you ill?"

All eyes in the small room turned to the youngest. Storm toned eyes glanced fleeting to the side, catching his partners own. In a flash, he heard what his master had not said.

"Yes, your Grace, I am alright. May I suggest, however, a bit of fresh air? It may do us all good to cool down a bit."

Multi-colored heads bobbed and swayed as both groups agreed. It only took a few minutes for the room to clear, the occupants moving in varies directions through the halls. Obi-Wan decided almost instantly to move outside into the shade. His master followed him without comment.

The building the meeting had been occupying was a small structure. While there were over 15 rooms, the structure was only one floor and took up very little space. Aside from the main room, which held ten people at most, the offices were individual, holding only enough space for that which was necessary. The rooms were off-white in color while any curtains ended up as a cream shade. The most defining feature was the obsidian flooring. This, to Obi-Wan, had been a beautiful way to break the monotony of the whole thing.

Even outside, the building managed to be plain. Trees and flowers bloomed around the squat brick. Bushes edged the walkways and solar lights lined the paths. No Ivy crawled up the walls as they were too smooth. This is not to say they were polished, simply that where was nothing for even a vine to grasp. Like the inside, the walls were painted in a shade of cream. Nothing defined the building in the way of arbors or porches. Not even a raised roof adorned the flat building. If the doors had been blocked, Obi-Wan was sure it would have been mistaken for a very large collection of packing crates.

Like the floors on the inside, Obi-Wan had managed to find at least one thing to admire. He had discovered it two days previous. This is where he went now. Off the path he stepped, through the tall grass and between bushy trees. There, an open space surrounded with lush trees and fluffy clouds. The best part, as it were, hung from a thick branch, creaking in the light wind.

Turning to his master, Obi-Wan asked, "Care for a swing?" before moving to the wooden board hanging among the leaves.

Qui-Gon watched as his student sat gingerly on the wooden swing and simply rocked on his heels. While the whole thing looked sturdy, the young Jedi felt better with the gentle back and forth and his feet on the ground.

"So this is where you went off to," replied the older man as he stepped forward.

"Everything is so plain." Obi-Wan complained. "Then I found this."

Qui-Gon nodded. He had been 14 once, too, though he was sure Obi-Wan wouldn't believe that. He knew what it was to be restless, to want action and adventure. That was the true reason he had brought his apprentice with him.

"I like how relaxing this is. I like being about to move and do something. When we first got here, I was so frustrated. Everything is so slow. This, this is nice. Just being able to breathe fresh air and not smell burning metal; I like this."

With that said, the younger man stood and offered the seat to his master. The elder Jedi sat, a bit more carefully then his student, and thought. For longest time, he couldn't think of what to say. He had written a lecture in his head. He had created lesson after lesson in the art of silence and holding still. He had examples on enjoying the small things while you had the chance. Here, now, his student had stolen that from him. Obi-Wan had all but figured it out for himself and now Qui-Gon had no where to start.

"Are you alright, Master?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm alright. I'm a bit stunned."

A delicate eyebrow rose as Obi-Wan tilted his head slightly to the side.

"I thought we had a pill for that."

Snorting, Qui-Gon chose to ignore the little quip at his expense. Instead, he looked around the trees, watching a bird nest down in the fading light.

"You stole my lesson. At the very least, you skipped a few chapters. It is very annoying to have to rewrite these things."

Obi-Wan's lip twitched at the corner, threatening to turn up. It was with sheer force that he held back.

"I apologize, Master. In the future I will do my best to not grow up without your permission."

"See that you don't. You do not have permission to grow up until you are at least 16."

"What about 14 and 15? Do I simply skip them?"

"Oh, no. You can have those. You just don't have permission to learn any lesson on your own until 16."

Obi-Wan began to laugh. Qui-Gon had a wild sense of humor when no on was around. How he could sound and act so serious while he made his jokes made them all the better.

"I suppose," he tried, dabbing at the tears in his eyes, "I can accommodate that. If you would kindly write notes to my instructors and explain to the council why I am not maturing with my other age-mates, I would be grateful."

"Oh, of course. I would be remise if I didn't explain my students lack of growth. Who knows—" he paused to face Obi-Wan, "this may get you out of a test."

Obi-Wan broke down once more, clutching the rope for support. His master faced forward once more and tucked his arms into his voluminous sleeves, a smile on his lips.

And all was well.