The door to Obi-Wan's room was wide open; the bed empty when Qui-Gon arrived. His heart dropped and for a minute he had to clutch the door frame. How could he not have felt – known – had that truly been Obi-Wan speaking to him just a while ago from the other side of life? Had Obi-Wan been alone for that final journey?

Before he could quite catch his breath, a medical droid rolled up and calmly stated, "The patient was moved down the hall two doors."

Moved! He hadn't passed on. Qui-Gon breathed again, and as he hurtled down the hallway, he snapped, "His name is Obi-Wan." His padawan had lost nearly everything; now he had lost even his identity. He was "the patient."

The only difference between this room and the former one was that this room had no windows; it was smaller. They didn't think Obi-Wan had need of the other room. They had given up hope. They had deprived him of the sunset! Qui-Gon could not allow that to happen.

He detached the IV bag from its stand, slung it around his neck and easily scooped Obi-Wan from his bed. He was so light. He was almost a man, but Qui-Gon felt he was lifting the thirteen year old boy who had first captured his heart and who had now broken it.

He carried him back into the first room and carefully laid him on the bed, turned his head to the window and drew back the curtains.

"We'll watch the sunset, together," he promised. He laid a big hand, softly, on Obi-Wan's cheek, looked deep into the blank depths of his eyes. "Then, if it's … time, you can let go. Don't linger like this. Either come back, or – or, become one with the Force."

He slid next to Obi-Wan and settled him against his chest, tucked the limp head into the curve of his neck and shoulder and wrapped his arms around the slight body. He enfolded one unresisting hand within his and brought the hand to his lips for a soft kiss, laid it against his cheek. Outside, the colors deepened, exploded into a symphony of light that lit the room with a rosy glow. Hope, or was it heartbreak, made visible. "See it, Obi-Wan? Do you see it?"

A finger twitched just barely, within his hand. It's time, call me back, Master. Help me to come home.

Qui-Gon almost jumped, he leaned over and looked into Obi-Wan's face. "Are you there, Padawan? Are you returning to me? Please, come back."

An eye blinked. Within its depths lay a shadow buried so deep that it could barely be seen. But a shadow could not exist without light.

Help me home, Master, I don't have enough strength on my own. A soft whisper of non-sound brushed his mind, seeking to reestablish a broken bond, but one that had only been severed on one end. It was nothing to reestablish it, reach out for what his mind saw as a young boy sitting tired with outstretched arms and hopeful eyes. He took the boy into his arms and hugged him close, bringing him back.

I'm home.

You're home.

Two thoughts, opposite and yet the same. Two hearts, now healing. Two halves of one whole, together.

The brilliance outside softly faded into softer hues of crimson and gold, tendrils of light lying across two faces, light painting the faces and reflecting off eyes – one pair deep blue, full of joy, and one pair blue-gray, full of hope, and both wet with tears. The sun sank out of sight and disappeared, leaving behind twilight's blue glow.

As Obi-Wan's eyes closed, in true sleep, his lips relaxed into a smile. It was beautiful.

At his side, Qui-Gon smiled and tightened his arms around the young man. His padawan, the son of his heart, had come back, and soon, he knew with absolute certainty, all would be well. Obi-Wan would fully recover. His heart told him that. It is beautiful, he echoed, only he was not looking at the glorious sight outside, but the glorious sight still cradled in his arms.

How could he have forgotten? For wasn't the sunset always followed by the sunrise, no matter how dark the night between?