A/N: So...I haven't actually read the JA books since I was about 11 (ten years ago now). But I've ordered the first few in the mail and should be getting them soon. In the meantime I've been doing my best to research the background for this story (particularly regarding Melida/Daan), but if things aren't canonically correct, I apologize in advance. Just try to suspend your disbelief and I'll edit it later once I have time to actually read the books.

This is a collection of one-shots loosely based around the '5 Times Plus 1' trope, although it is a much looser interpretation than many others I've seen on here. The theme of Obi-Wan wanting a father won't always be explicitly stated in each one; it's moreso implied. But if you're confused at all, I welcome all questions.

This will be shameless H/C and angst with father/son dynamics, but hopefully everyone is relatively in character haha

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

"If I had known that you would move so quickly this morning at the suggestion of getting out of the Temple for the day, I'd promise you a trip to the outside world more often, Padawan," Qui-Gon says in his level, mellifluous voice; a spark of humor in his eyes. "Perhaps every time you complain about running the training center's obstacle course." He raises an eyebrow as he slowly sips his muja juice, taking his sweet time to finish off his morning meal.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes as he paces in front of the small table in their quarters, knowing that he is behaving childishly but unable to bring himself to care. Qui-Gon is merely jesting—while Obi-Wan may not naturally be a morning person, living in the Jedi Temple for the majority of his thirteen years has made him disciplined enough to get up early each day and move through his morning routine with efficiency.

However, it is true that he has spent the morning running somewhat frantically around their quarters, preparing for the day in only ten minutes. Now he has just been pacing, watching in agony as Qui-Gon has been devouring his toast for what feels like five hundred light years. But it isn't his fault—it has been ages since he has gotten out of the Temple! They have been here for almost a month since their last mission, and if Jedi were allowed to be bored and impatient, then he would be very, very, very bored and very, very, very impatient.

Completely hypothetically, of course.

Part of it is childish energy and immaturity, and the other, much darker part has to do with the recent Melida/Daan fiasco. He knows that he and Qui-Gon are being held back at the Temple by the Council so that they can rebuild their bond and recover from the whole ordeal, but he chafes at all the downtime; yearning to have a mission just to get his mind off the sight of Bruck Chun falling, falling, falling; always falling…in his dreams, in his meditations, in his mind as he lays in bed at night. Not to mention the fact that things with Qui-Gon are still tenuous and delicate, in spite of their newly-restored bond. A mission would force them to put aside the awkwardness and uncertainties for the sake of action, instead of the two of them just orbiting around each other in their quarters with slight awkwardness, as they have been doing.

He shoves all of these dark thoughts from his mind, just as he has been doing this entire month. "I would have had time to do the whole obstacle course five times through in just the time that it is taking you to eat your breakfast, Master," Obi-Wan mutters as he paces, shuddering as he thinks of the horribly complex obstacle course in one of the training salles that Qui-Gon makes him do every few weeks. He'd need more than the promise of an errand outside the temple to be genuinely enthused about that.

"What was that, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asks lightly, taking a tiny sip of his tea this time. Why Qui-Gon has to take the time to drink so many beverages when they could be out in the city is beyond Obi-Wan.

"Nothing, Master. I was merely wondering what errand we're going to run today," Obi-Wan amends quickly, suddenly worried that he has been too disrespectful with his pacing and muttering. He has been Qui-Gon's padawan for almost a year now, and he still is uncertain of the boundaries of their apprenticeship. He is fairly certain that Qui-Gon is just eating slowly to tease Obi-Wan, but he is uncertain if he is allowed to tease back or not, especially after the recent strain in their relationship.

To be honest, he still fears being pushed away by the Jedi Master, who has warmed considerably to Obi-Wan in the past year but still holds him at arm's length in many ways. Initially, Obi-Wan knew that this was because of Xanatos, but this new tentativeness is his own fault, because he had gone and left Qui-Gon just like Xanatos had. Obviously the circumstances between the two padawans abandoning their apprenticeship with Qui-Gon had been night and day, but he fears Qui-Gon doesn't see it that way.

He had hoped that things would go back to normal quickly after Qui-Gon had accepted him as his padawan again on their way back from Telos, but it seems that they are going to have to find a new 'normal' after all their bond has been through. Things have been somewhat tense and awkward between the two of them, and Obi-Wan knows that Qui-Gon is just trying to come to terms with Xanatos' death, so he can't blame the man for being withdrawn. It's not that he expects the sedate Jedi master to stoop to anger, but it would almost make Obi-Wan feel better if Qui-Gon would just let loose and yell at him. Maybe then they could get it all in the open and just move on from there.

But then again, maybe Qui-Gon doesn't care enough about Obi-Wan to pursue the matter any further.

Another thought that he pushes away.

He needn't have worried today about testing things today, however. He doesn't need to look at Qui-Gon to know that the older man is arching a sardonic eyebrow at Obi-Wan—Qui-Gon is sending him the equivalent emotion over their bond, and there is a warm undercurrent of laughter in it. Qui-Gon knows exactly what Obi-Wan had mumbled to himself, and he is not offended. Obi-Wan's chest constricts slightly with emotion at the warmth of the familiar mental touch, and he once again thanks the Force that Qui-Gon had taken him back as a padawan again. He will take what he can get, even if he longs for their bond to be deeper.

Allowing himself to relax again, Obi-Wan leans against the table, resisting the urge to jiggle his leg impatiently.

"We will be heading to the market for a very important purchase, Padawan," Qui-Gon announces, finally taking his last bite of toast. Obi-Wan wonders if it would be rude to cheer.

"What kind of purchase?" He asks, instantly perking up at Qui-Gon's vague choice of words. He is anxious now more than ever to be the perfect padawan; to read the subtle hints in his master's speech before the older man has to explain what he is thinking and how he is strategizing. "Are we getting something for a new mission? Meeting a new contact in the market?" He tries not to sound too hopeful, but it has been a long month of the same routine each day—meditations, lessons, and trainings. A new adventure would be welcome.

Qui-Gon smiles, and Obi-Wan would like to think that it is affectionate; almost indulgent even. But as always, he is never fully certain.

"No, Padawan," Qui-Gon says, standing to place his dishes near the washing unit. "Today we are going to buy fertilizer for my new draconis plant."

"Oh," Obi-Wan says eloquently. He hates that plant—Qui-Gon had adopted it on Menbar 9, the planet where they'd been on their second to last mission—one of those 'strays' that Master Tahl Uvain was always joking about Qui-Gon taking on. "But Master…why? Why not just order some and have it delivered to the temple? Or why not speak to the temple gardeners about using some of their fertilizer?"

As he says this, he glances over at the aforementioned plant and has to admit that it looks rather…wilted. It stands in the corner of their shared apartment, and to Obi-Wan, has always seemed unusually sentient for a plant. And somewhat malicious.

But only towards Obi-Wan.

The thing seems to blossom whenever Qui-Gon steps near it; unfurling slightly as if reaching towards him and the Living Force that pulses and flows so effortlessly through the master's Force signature. But it doesn't like Obi-Wan. He doesn't know why or how he knows this, but he just does. He'd never say it out loud, because it would sound crazy, but the fact is, the draconis plant hates him. Maybe that's why it's dying—Obi-Wan's offensive presence in the apartment is smothering it. Indeed, even as he mentions the idea of Qui-Gon ordering some fertilizer instead of taking the pains to find some himself, the plant seems to recoil in sharp disapproval, offense prickling from its brownish leaves. It reminds him of Master Jocasta Nu's face whenever Obi-Wan handles manuscripts too roughly in the archives.

Qui-Gon clears his throat, a slightly odd expression on his face. "The fertilizer that I am seeking is not commonly found in most markets. Therefore, I feel it would be more prudent to seek it in person."

"So…we can only buy this fertilizer on the black market, is what you're saying," Obi-Wan clarifies, glaring back at the sulky-looking plant in the corner. He has taken countless politics and economics courses during his time at the Jedi Temple, and yet, he has never heard much about there being an underground market for plant fertilizer. But he wouldn't put it past Qui-Gon to be secretly harboring some sort of exotic, illegal plant. Frankly, Obi-Wan wouldn't mind if the stupid thing was illegal and had to be confiscated.

Qui-Gon glances between the scowling Obi-Wan and the shriveled plant a few times, bewilderment crossing his leonine features. "Padawan, I hope you are not attempting to kill my plant with Force tactics right now."

Obi-Wan blinks and forces himself to look away from the draconis, which brightens slightly in smug victory.

"Of course not, Master," Obi-Wan says primly. "And the plant started it, anyway," he mutters to himself.

Qui-Gon eyes him carefully for a moment longer. "Very well, we should be getting on our way before the air traffic becomes too busy." He stands and begins to gather up his cloak and his pouch of credits, and Obi-Wan takes the opportunity to shoot a final scowl at the plant behind his master's back.

It isn't until they are walking down the front steps of the temple and out into the bustle of Coruscant that Obi-Wan realizes that Qui-Gon had managed to change the subject and completely sidestep Obi-Wan's deduction about the black market.

Maybe today will bring about a little bit of the adventure he's been craving after all.

An hour later finds them right in the underworld of Coruscant, in one of the worst areas of the city that Obi-Wan has ever been to. In spite of the morning hour, the streets down here are dark and grim, untouched by sunlight. Rats and all sorts of other creatures skitter through alleyways, and the Force cries out in misery as they walk past abandoned buildings and desperately poor-looking people.

Qui-Gon seems to know exactly where they are going, and as they step into a small, musty shop, Obi-Wan covers his mouth with his sleeve, coughing harshly against the sharp, bitter smell of herbs and fertilizer. He feels Qui-Gon's gaze upon him and hastily stifles his burning lungs, not wanting to appear rude to the shop owner.

It is dark and cramped in the two-room store, and nobody comes to greet them at the door, in spite of the tinkle of a bell overhead when they enter. Obi-Wan squints through the dimness as his eyes adjust, trying to use Force-enhanced vision to get a better idea of what this place is exactly. He is sure that his master, ever attuned to the Living Force, must be in a state of revelry, because all sorts and species of plants line the walls and aisles of the store, some resting under the dim glow of heat lamps.

He realizes afterwards that he is concentrating far too hard on scoping out the shop, leaving him blind to what was truly happening around him, because doesn't see the child until he stands in front of Obi-Wan, one small, dirty hand reaching out to tug on the hem of Obi-Wan's tunic.

Obi-Wan flinches, startled, taking a step back and stumbling into Qui-Gon's solid chest. Embarrassed at his inattentiveness and un-Jedi-like clumsiness, he quickly rights his balance and faces the child that had materialized so suddenly and silently in front of them. Qui-Gon lightly places a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder to steady him, and he bites back a small smile at the reassuring, though unnecessary, gesture.

The boy is not of a species that Obi-Wan recognizes offhand—although his features are fairly humanoid, his skin is a light blue-gray color and there are gold markings around his wide, large black eyes. He is probably only about five or six years old, but there is a solemnity to his bearing that makes him seem older. His hands and clothes are dirty and he has an underfed, rangy look. Obi-Wan wonders why a child is allowed to be alone in a shop in a part of town like this. He reaches out tentatively with the Force, only to find that the child's Force presence oddly muted and cloudy.

But the boy's voice is polite and well-mannered when he speaks. "Welcome to Pharrin's Shop for Unique Plants," he says to Obi-Wan. "I am Nat; how can I be of service to you—" he cuts off suddenly with a gasp as he looks beyond Obi-Wan for the first time. "Master Qui-Gon! You're back!" He exclaims, dropping into an enthusiastic bow, childish excitement suddenly replacing his serious, professional countenance.

It is clear that Nat recognizes Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan looks over at his master with surprise; wondering how often the older Jedi has cause to come here for illegal plant-nurturing supplies. He raises a pointed eyebrow at his master, sending the question across their bond with a hint of a smirk.

Qui-Gon studiously ignores his padawan's mental nudge, though his mouth quirks slightly in response as he bends down on one knee to talk to Nat. He smiles affectionately at the boy, resting an easy hand on the child's shoulder, and something tightens slightly in Obi-Wan's chest. He chooses not to examine the emotion too closely, but it may be something like jealousy. It had felt special when Qui-Gon had put his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder a moment ago, but maybe it hadn't meant anything, if he does the same now for this random child.

"And how are you, young Nat?" Qui-Gon asks the boy in that special way he has of making everyone feel important when he speaks to them. Obi-Wan grits his teeth and attempts to release his feelings into the Force, as he has always been taught to do. He can count on one hand the number of times Qui-Gon has used that tone with him—if only he were one of the many weak stray beings that his master is so prone to taking in! Qui-Gon is more likely to talk to the stupid draconis like that before he ever deigned to use that tone with Obi-Wan.

"I'm good! I'm six years old now! And Papa says that maybe I can go to school soon!" The seriousness has completely melted away from the little one, his words quick and stumbling over one another with elation.

"Six? But you can't be six already; you were just five the last time I saw you," Qui-Gon says seriously, a hint of humor sparking in his eyes.

Nat giggles. "But Master Qui-Gon, six comes after five! You learn about numbers and things like that at school." He says the word 'school' with such wonder that it makes Obi-Wan curious—generally Coruscanti children began school at five years of age—why is Nat waiting an extra year?

"I see. Perhaps I should return to school myself," Qui-Gon jokes, chucking Nat under the chin before stretching to his full height again. Obi-Wan counts backwards slowly in Huttese, hoping that distraction will prevent him, a Jedi Padawan, from being jealous of a grimy six-year-old living in a black market plant shop. It's just… he can't imagine Qui-Gon ever being so open and affectionate with him. And it hurts somewhere deep in his chest, in a place that he refuses to acknowledge, because it's not the Jedi way to want like this.

The worst part is that it's all his own fault. If only he hadn't messed up so badly on Melida/Daan. He still doesn't regret helping the Young, but he regrets the way it had all played out between himself and Qui-Gon. And now things may never be the same again, and it's because of his decisions. He throws up his shields quickly, hoping that none of this will seep across the bond.

"Where is your father, Nat?" Qui-Gon continues, thankfully seeming oblivious to his padawan's emotional turbulence.

Nat bites his lower lip, twisting his hands together nervously. "He went to make a delivery, Master Qui-Gon, sir. He said he'd be back soon."

Obi-Wan feels his eyebrows shoot up incredulously. Nat seems relatively mature, but why would anybody leave a six-year-old alone in a shop, let alone in charge of said shop?

"Very well. We shall wait for his return with you, Nat," Qui-Gon says, shooting him a warning glance, clearly not wanting Obi-Wan to vocalize his disbelief for some reason. Something is going on here that doesn't meet the eye.

There is a sudden, urgent spike in the Force, and all of a sudden the door bursts open, two men wearing masks bursting in with blasters.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan unsheathe their sabers in perfect unison, forming a defensive wall in front of Nat. Though they have worked together for less than a year, the depth of their bond allows them to anticipate each other's actions before the other has even fully thought of their next step, and, as always, Obi-Wan is reassured by his master's familiar presence at his side in the midst of a confrontation.

There is a hushed moment of anticipation where they all stand and stare at one another. The two men apparently had not anticipated Jedi when they barged into the shop, and they hesitate now.

The larger one lifts his blaster, however, aiming it right at Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan fights down a current of worry, reminding himself that Qui-Gon could quite easily deflect a blaster shot with his lightsaber in his sleep with his hands tied behind his back.

"Where is Pharrin?" He grunts.

"Not here right now," Nat pipes up innocently from behind them. Obi-Wan stifles a groan. "But if you'd like me to give him a message when he returns—"

"Shut up, kid," the shorter of the two intruders snaps. "You tell your father that he is two weeks late on his payment to Lord Tenebras, and that if he wants to keep his head attached to his body, he'd better pay up now."

Tenebras…where has Obi-Wan heard that name before? Judging by the grim set of Qui-Gon's jaw, his master knows exactly who they are dealing with and why, but Obi-Wan remains in the dark. He searches through his memory, his eyes widening as he suddenly remembers overhearing a story that Siri Tachi had told at mealtime the other week about a strain of murders in the Coruscant underworld, all associated with Lord Tenebras, the famous Coruscanti mobster. He has no clue why a man like Pharrin, who sells exotic plants for a living, would be mixed up with Tenebras, but this is indeed a grave and dangerous situation if Siri's story is to be believed.

The tall one elbows his comrade and mutters something that sounds like "…take the kid…hostage…"

Obi-Wan tenses, ready to defend Nat if these men try to forcibly take the boy. But Qui-Gon has apparently had enough. He raises a hand in the air, and Obi-Wan can feel the Force pool in his master's calm words.

"You do not want to take the boy as a hostage. You want to leave the shop and not come back for the rest of the day."

Obi-Wan scarcely dares to breathe, wondering if the men will be strong-minded enough to resist the Force suggestion.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the short one turns to the tall one. "We don't want to take the boy as hostage. We should leave and not come back for the money until tomorrow."

The tall one nods, and they turn and leave the store, walking as if in a dream. Qui-Gon deactivates his lightsaber and clips it back to his belt, and Obi-Wan follows suit, releasing a relieved breath.

Nat seems unperturbed by his thwarted kidnapping attempt. He practically bounces as he turns to Obi-Wan. "Wow! You're a Jedi too, like Master Qui-Gon! I knew it!"

Obi-Wan just blinks, staring pointedly at Qui-Gon, who is curiously examining the slippery leaves of a nearby plant as though nothing has just happened.

The door opens again, and Obi-Wan tenses, although he doesn't feel any disturbance in the Force this time. It is a man that is undoubtedly Nat's father—he has the same blue skin and gold markings, and very similar facial features, although Pharrin is a much, much darker blue than his son.

His expression is frantic, and he heaves a gigantic sigh of relief upon seeing Nat unharmed. He hurriedly scoops the little boy up and holds him close, brushing dark spiky hair from the boy's forehead. Obi-Wan watches curiously, not accustomed to watching children interact with their parents after growing up in the Temple crèche. "I saw those men in the alley—Nat, are you alright? What did they—" he murmurs, clearly frazzled and still affected by his earlier panic. "Qui-Gon!" He remarks in sudden surprise as he notices the tall Jedi. His eyes flicker to Obi-Wan, and then dart back to the obviously familiar form of the Jedi Master.

"Hello, Pharrin," Qui-Gon says, smiling warmly at the man. "We just got here a few moments ago. This is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Pharrin shakes Obi-Wan's hand courteously, although he still seems somewhat in shock. His eyes widen as his gaze flickers to Qui-Gon's belt where his lightsaber hangs. "Thank you, old friend," he breathes fervently, clutching his son tighter in his arms. "Thank you for being here."

"Daddy! These men came looking for you and they were really mad! But Master Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan saved me," Nat narrates the tale excitedly, clearly having enjoyed the adventure.

Qui-Gon nods. "They were sent by Tenebras. I bought you the rest of the day at least." He pulls his pouch of credits off his belt. "I'm afraid it's not quite enough—you might still be a few hundred short of the monthly payment, but this should cover most of it—"

"I can't accept that, Qui," Pharrin says quietly, although his eyes are conflicted and miserable as he clutches his child to his chest.

"Of course you can," Qui-Gon says with his best negotiator tone of voice. Obi-Wan watches with the same amazement that he feels every time the wise older Jedi manages to make people feel at ease against all odds. "It's the least I can do—remember, I still owe you a favor for that time in the bar on 12th street—"

Pharrin's lips quirk upwards. "Ah, yes, I remember that night well, old friend. But still—"

"Please," Qui-Gon says lightly. "I won't accept 'no' for an answer. Take the money, if only for the sake of Nat's safety. I'll talk to Master Yoda at the Temple and see if we can get some help for you."

Pharrin hesitates but after a moment, reaches out to accept the pouch, his eyes misty. "Thank you, old friend," he breathes, swallowing thickly and visibly collecting himself. "Now, then! What service can I do for you today? Anything you need; it's on the house!" He kisses Nat on the cheek before depositing the boy back on the ground.

"Well, I was actually looking for some fertilizer for a draconis plant. It isn't thriving like I'd expect it to…" Qui-Gon begins. Obi-Wan coughs nervously, thinking of the stupid dying plant and how it's probably his fault. He is relieved as Qui-Gon and Pharrin begin to stroll away towards the back of the store, where the fertilizer appears to be stored.

"Stay with the boy, Padawan. I need to talk to Pharrin away from young ears for a moment," Qui-Gon sends over their bond, and Obi-Wan nods imperceptibly. He wonders if his ears are also considered too young to be a part of the conversation, and fights the urge to bristle at the implication that Qui-Gon thinks he is too young to fully participate in important matters. Then again, he shouldn't be surprised. His recent actions have hardly been those of a mature Jedi Master.

And just like that, Obi-Wan is left with a hyper young boy.

"That was so cool, Master Obi-Wan! When did you get a lightsaber? Is it hard to use? Can I hold it?!"

Obi-Wan shakes his head, struggling to filter through the rapid flow of questions. "I'm not a master, Nat. This is just a training saber. And it's hard, but we train for our whole lives, so we learn gradually."

Nat thinks about this for a minute, coughing a deep, chesty cough that makes Obi-Wan's chest ache in sympathy. When he finally gets his breath back, he gazes up at Obi-Wan with earnest dark eyes.

"Is Master Qui-Gon your father?" He asks seriously.

Obi-Wan almost chokes on air, he is so shocked by the innocent inquiry. "Wha—no! He's just my master," he corrects hastily, praying that Qui-Gon can not hear their conversation. "Why would you think that?"

Nat shrugs. "When those men were here and you pulled out your lightsabers, you stepped a little in front of me, to protect me. And Master Qui-Gon stepped a little in front of you, so that he could protect you. It seems like something my daddy would do for me."

Obi-Wan doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't remember his own father, and he doesn't know anything about how parents and children typically interact from his own personal experience; merely from limited outside observation.

He is spared answering as Nat dissolves into another coughing fit, this one even worse.

Pharrin hurries over to check on the little boy, who cannot seem to get a good breath. Finally he just picks the child up, looking at him like nothing else in the world exists. "I'm sorry to run, but we need to go do his treatment," he says, forehead crinkled deeply with worry. "It was nice to meet you, Obi-Wan. Thank you for what you have done here today. It won't be forgotten."

Obi-Wan bows politely. "Feel better, Nat," he says solicitously.

"Don't be a stranger, Qui," Pharrin calls over his shoulder as he trundles his son away to the back room.

"Well," Qui-Gon says, hefting up a small bag of fertilizer. "I think we got what we came here for."

They return to the misty sunlight of the underworld, squinting against the foggy brightness.

Obi-Wan manages to wait a whole block before he speaks.

"Master, what was going on in there?"

Qui-Gon looks at him appraisingly. "What do you mean exactly?"

"Why does Pharrin owe the mob money? Why did he leave Nat alone in charge of the shop? Why does he sell illegal plants for a living?" Obi-Wan's questions fly off his tongue.

Qui-Gon is quiet for a long moment. "Tell me, Padawan, did you notice anything strange about Nat while we were at the shop?"

Yes, he was a six-year-old child who was left all alone in a store in a dangerous part of town. Biting back a smart reply, Obi-Wan tries to seriously consider the question. "Well…his Force presence seemed off when I tried to feel him out. And he kept coughing…" Obi-Wan trails off as realization sets in, a sort of heaviness settling over his heart. "He's sick, isn't he, Master?"

Qui-Gon nods. "You are correct. It's a rare illness, and Nat's mother died of it about a year ago now. There are treatments available for it, but they are incredibly expensive and don't always work. In Pharrin's case, he's had to take out loans from Tenebras because he has nowhere else to turn to. And he works extra jobs for extra money, which means that he often has to leave Nat alone in the shop, unattended. The boy isn't well enough to go to school yet, either."

"Wow," Obi-Wan says, suddenly feeling that every single problem he has ever had is completely insignificant. "Isn't there something we can do to help, Master? Can't the healers at the Temple help Nat?"

Qui-Gon nods. "I hadn't realized the situation had gotten quite so dangerous, or that Pharrin was struggling quite as hard as he was to make ends meet. I will speak with Master Yoda when we return and see what he can do to help them."

Obi-Wan nods, pleased with this news. Though he hadn't known Pharrin or Nat for long, he had been fascinated by the way they interacted; the panic and care in Pharrin's eyes when he thought his son was in danger or he was coughing, and Nat's easy love and trust in his father. He thinks of how desperately Pharrin is working to save his son, and can't help but glance over at Qui-Gon, a strange and terrifying thought popping into his head.

If he was sick like Nat was, would Qui-Gon do all those things for him?

It is a ridiculous question: the infirmary at the Jedi Temple would take care of everything if Obi-Wan became ill. But the strange, wistful wanting feeling is back in his chest again, although he still does not have a name for it. He has a feeling that it is somehow related with his feelings of frustration with himself at how he had messed up his bond with Qui-Gon, but he doesn't quite understand how the two are linked. He will have to meditate on it later.

"You did well today, Padawan," Qui-Gon says suddenly, and Obi-Wan looks up at his master in surprise. "You kept a cool head and handled yourself well when Tenebras' men came into the shop."

Obi-Wan blushes with shy pleasure at the compliment. Perhaps all is not lost after all. "Thank you, Master. But you were the one who de-escalated the situation."

Qui-Gon flags down an air taxi. "They weren't very strong-minded," he says humbly. "But Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Master?"

"That was enough adventure for one day, I think. Perhaps tomorrow we'll just stick to the obstacle course."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan groans, but he cannot help the smile fighting its way across his face. Soon they will be called up for another mission, but for now, he is simply content to accompany his master and learn from his strange, chaotic wisdom.