Disclaimer: I do not own nor make any profit off of Star Wars or any related works. It all belongs to George Lucas, Lucasfilm, Fox Studios, etc.

A/N: More Kenobi family interactions.

Choas Babe: You have interesting observations, a couple of which I am happy to have explained in this chapter. :) Thank you for reviewing!

Valairy Scot: I adore writing Qui-Gon & Obi-Wan interactions. :D Thank you for reviewing!

NOTE (from 4-26-14): The preface & chapters 1-9 of this story have now undergone thorough editing for grammar and spelling, as well as a detailed revision of structure, plot flow, characterization, and writing maturity.

Chapter 10: Familiarity

If ever a living space spoke of harmonious contradictions, the Kenobi home certainly did so. While on the whole it had all the earmarks of an expensive middle-class home, the light, golden-painted interior had been filled with modest design and decoration. Quality furnishings, it may be said, but not lavish and gaudy. Despite having no memory of the home, as Obi-Wan walked slowly through the entryway he felt that same sense of familiarity as when they first came upon Saarn. As the front door clicked quietly closed, the seventeen-year-old wondered if this was the house of his birth.

"You were born here," the elder Kenobi commented quietly, startling Obi-Wan into looking around at him where he yet stood by the front door. Laughing on a breath, the older man explained, "My apologies. I could sense your familiarity. I am… well…"

"Of course. You're slightly force-sensitive," Obi-Wan replied quickly, shaking himself. Qui-Gon looked askance as he heard the knowledge so easily spoken, but said nothing. Even their bond remained strangely silent.

"How did you know that?" the patriarch wondered, glancing over with some surprise.

Shrugging mildly, Obi-Wan answered, "Master Yoda told me."

"Ah, I remember Master Yoda," the older man smiled, and the warmth therein put Obi-Wan at such ease he almost overlooked his mother's distinctly cold presence elsewhere in the house. "He is the one who came to retrieve you."

"He came in his own person?" Qui-Gon asked, eyebrows rising.

"Yes," Palas agreed. "He admitted his presence to be atypical, but that he felt led by the Force."

"Master Yoda does attend to external temple matters if strongly drawn," Qui-Gon nodded thoughtfully.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room for a long moment, Obi-Wan suppressing the urge to fidget, until Maen spoke up hesitantly.

"Before this awkwardness becomes completely unmanageable," she began, then swiftly changed gears. "While I know you would happily help your son when in need, please allow me to thank you and your wife for doing this, Mr. Kenobi—"

"Oh, you may all call me Palas," the father of two interrupted, smiling kindly at the young woman. "The possibility of three Kenobi men responding to the same title might be a bit much, Miss…?"

"Please call me Maen," the young woman chuckled, and the sound eased some of Obi-Wan's nerves considerably. He could not be more grateful for an outside presence to bridge both sides of his life than he was then.

"Maen it is, then," Palas replied, eyes full of understanding Obi-Wan did not expect as the man glanced towards him.

Qui-Gon found his voice again as well, inquiring curiously, "May I ask what you know about us from the Council or otherwise?"

"Jedi in general… or you and Obi-Wan?" Palas suggested knowingly, a softly humored glint in his brown eyes.

"A little of both," the Jedi Master responded, lips twitching but barely. "But mainly the latter, yes."

Obi-Wan's own lips lifted ever-so-slightly at the seemingly easy communications between his master and his father; Maen caught Obi-Wan's eye with gentle amusement of her own shining through.

"Precious little," Palas answered with a miniscule shrug. "You are Obi-Wan's master and he is your apprentice. Aside from training with lightsabers, you utilize meditation techniques. You have been on a number of missions during your time as a team – Obi-Wan has seen far more than his brother at almost the same age. And… well, it may surprise you to know I have heard the name Qui-Gon Jinn before. There were reports of some dispute on a nearby planet and the citizens were pleased with your successful diplomacy. They praised the Jedi Order quite profusely. Other than those things, I am as much in the dark as anyone can be about Jedi and Obi-Wan's training."

Obi-Wan felt his father's curious, probing gaze on him as he spoke the last, and wondered how much of his years at the temple they might discuss before leaving Saarn. Conversely, Qui-Gon merely nodded at the response, his features oddly unsettled to Obi-Wan's eyes, and the room dropped into another tense moment.

"I will show you to your rooms," the Kenobi patriarch offered in the ensuing silence, gesturing to a hallway on the left. "They are on the north side of the house. The family rooms are on the other side, so you will have privacy and space from us if you need it."

"Thank you," Qui-Gon answered for Obi-Wan and himself, Maen nodding her agreement.

Palas waved for them to follow him, and Obi-Wan allowed Maen to step first into the appropriate hallway. Little decoration dotted the halls as they walked along, and none of it displayed any family images.

"Master Yoda said master and apprentice often meditate together," Palas spoke directly to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan as they finally stopped in the middle of the next hall and the Kenobi patriarch pointed at three doors on one wall. "I thought you might prefer a two-room suite for that reason, since there is a shared common room."

"You have need of a two-room suite in the house?" Obi-Wan asked with some amazement. It seemed like a rather lavish expense, considering the modest look of the place.

"Once my health started to deteriorate several years ago, your mother took over our business and I began working with planetary government," the elder Kenobi explained. "It took far less out of me, and the additional income offset medical expenses. Given our proximity to the main planetary hangar, we have often housed special visitors to the planet. Officials from the Republic or neighboring governments would visit with us while completing official matters of state. Adding this wing of the house greatly benefited those visits."

"You must be well-versed in the political realm," Maen remarked interestedly. At any other time, Obi-Wan might have laughed at the eagerness in her voice. Doubtless she had a pure drive for politics.

"Moderately so," Palas chuckled at the dark-haired young woman. "In light of Obi-Wan's arrival, I am ashamed to say I have almost overlooked the real reason you are all here. You are a senatorial assistant, correct?"

"Yes, I am," the seventeen-year-old replied rather sheepishly. "Forgive me, politics are a constant discussion topic I indulge in."

"You need not apologize, Maen," Palas informed her warmly. "Neither my wife nor my youngest want to listen to my political drivel. What say we bombard the dinner table with matters of the Republic to give them a time of it?"

Maen laughed outright, her whole face brightening with the trilling sound. To Obi-Wan's surprise, he found another moment of familiarity creeping up on him; why he should feel so about Maen confused him. They'd never met before, so it made little sense on the whole, although he could not dispel the feeling no matter how hard he tried. Shaking it off as best he could, the young man avoided Qui-Gon's keen gaze and the slight tug on their bond.

"Your room is across the hall, Maen," Palas informed the young woman pleasantly, before turning to a new subject with practiced ease. Obi-Wan could actually see him unwinding as he stood in their company. "Would you prefer to tour the house and grounds tonight or would you rather let it wait until tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow might be best," Qui-Gon suggested thoughtfully. "To have the full day in which to become accustomed."

"Agreed," Palas nodded congenially, when something caught his gaze beyond them. "Ah, that is kind of you, son."

Turning with Maen and Qui-Gon to look behind them, Obi-Wan found his younger brother setting down two travel bags he recognized as belonging to his master.

Instinctively, Obi-Wan stepped forward. "Oh, let me help."

"Oh, it's fine. I've done this before," the younger of them refused, not unkindly, and to Obi-Wan's relief their voices sounded very different. Clearly the younger Kenobi also shared their mother's less enunciated accent. Not that it would be terrible to share a similar voice, but the padawan already had to contend with his father's similarity; more than that would be truly frustrating in the long run.

Unable to let go for some unknown reason, Obi-Wan insisted, "Please, I really would like to. With the number of bags still waiting on the transport, you'll be there until evening meal. We'll take half the time if we work together."

"That's true, I guess," the younger brother responded slowly, glancing for a moment at Palas behind Obi-Wan. Whatever he saw bolstered him, for he continued, "All right, we'll work together. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Obi-Wan smiled slightly, turning just long enough to look over his left shoulder at Qui-Gon, who nodded approvingly of the decision.

"That is an excellent idea," Palas smiled at both of his sons. "Just remember evening meal is at six."

"I'll remember," the younger of the brothers spoke up dutifully, but he seemed increasingly eager to get outside with his sibling, a fact which put Obi-Wan at equal levels of ease and anxiety as they headed back to the entryway. As they walked through the light hallways, Obi-Wan faced another bout of familiarity – this time about his brother.

"Is your name Owen, by any chance?" the padawan asked tentatively.

The younger of the two smiled suddenly, confusing the seventeen-year-old until the other youth spoke humorously, "My name is Owa-Ren, actually. I guess our parents like hyphenated names. Anyway, you shortened it to Owen. Mom and Dad still aren't sure how."

Obi-Wan snorted quietly over the change, allowing his brother to open the front door and gesture him through. "I guess I never learned the proper way of saying it, then. Owen is the only name I have any memory of."

"Well, the Jedi came to pick you up before you could really improve your speech, so…" Owa-Ren trailed off uncomfortably, fidgeting in silent anxiety until they came up to the transport. The entire street seemed conversely peaceful, devoid of any real traffic.

The younger Kenobi spoke anew, anxiety no less, "There's something about you that feels… I don't know…"

"Familiar?" Obi-Wan completed the sentence knowingly,

"How did you know?" Owa-Ren looked surprised, eyes slightly wide.

"I feel it also," the padawan replied simply. "When I saw Saarn through the viewport, when we stepped inside the house, and then when you and I walked out here. It'll probably happen a lot."

"Strange," the younger brother shook his head. Instead of picking up a few bags and heading back, Owa-Ren climbed up and sat inside the transport, waving one very nervous padawan inside.

"I'm not angry or anything," Owa-Ren laughed a little, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "I just want to talk for a minute."

"All right," Obi-Wan gulped slightly, still on tenterhooks as he took the seat across from his brother. He could hardly imagine what needed to be said at such a distance from the others.

"The biggest thing…" Owa-Ren began, taking a deep breath before continuing more quietly, "I'm sorry about Mom."

"Oh, it's fine," Obi-Wan interrupted uncomfortably, only to be waved off.

"No, it's really not," his brother sighed a little. "She's… well, I don't know what's wrong with her, actually. When they first talked with the Order a few days ago, Mom seemed pretty happy to have you here, but the moment she heard you'd be coming with your master… Something about that just bothered her. Not sure why. Dad probably knows the reason, but he hasn't said anything to me."

Sighing deeply at the confirmation of all he'd seen and felt from the Kenobi matriarch, Obi-Wan bent forward to scrub his face agitatedly. "Good to know I wasn't imaging things, I suppose."

"Yeah, I guess," Owa-Ren nervously agreed, making an abrupt topic change, "When I became old enough to fully understand my brother had been taken to be a Jedi, it made me angry. I decided I never wanted you to come back."

Wincing vaguely at the admission, Obi-Wan sat straight again in his seat while his brother rushed forward in speech, seeming to have waited his entire young life to speak with his brother this way, "I was upset that I never knew you, that Mom and Dad missed you so much. They never talked about how you ended up going away, and I thought the Jedi forced Mom and Dad to give you up – that they took you without caring how it hurt us. I blamed them; you were one of them now, so I included you in that anger. It all finally blew up at evening meal one night a few years ago. Dad sat me down and finally explained the choice they made to give you up."

"Why are you telling me this?" Obi-Wan wondered tensely, uncertain how to respond to such a heavy influx of admission.

"I just…" Owa-Ren tried to begin, but shook himself and said simply, "I'm sorry. That's all I wanted to say: I apologize. I took it all out on you, even if you weren't here to know it. And all the while I felt angry with you, I know you must have been living through more than I can even imagine. I'm glad you're here now… glad you're my brother. We won't see each other again after you leave, but it'll be nice to get to know you while I can."

Obi-Wan couldn't speak he became so flooded with sentimentality, some his own and some belonging to his brother; the combined feelings swirled together in the Force, leaving his throat tight. The padawan had conjured all sorts of scenarios for interacting with his parents and younger brother, but none of them turned out quite the way this particular incident had.

"Just don't expect Mom to be quite as friendly to everyone," Owa-Ren added a little unhappily, seeming to sense his elder brother's speechlessness and moving forward for both of them. "She might warm to you a little, since you're her son, but…"

"I understand," Obi-Wan nodded once, firmly, pushing back most of his sentiment and rising from his seat. Owa-Ren mirrored the actions of his brother, leading them to the back of the transport to keep pulling in bags to the house.

The job wouldn't have taken too long in and of itself, but Obi-Wan took care to handle Maen's personal travel baggage himself and to ensure her various other bags went in separately from his and Qui-Gon's, which meant sorting before they took anything inside. All in all, by the time the two brothers finished taking everything inside, six o'clock became near rather than far, the already-cool temperature dropped ten degrees, and both young men had discussed everything from local public events to space travel to meditation.

Now standing outside the two-room suite he was to share with Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan bid his brother a friendly farewell and entered the common room with his own bags in hand and a quarter of an hour before evening meal.

Qui-Gon was nowhere in sight, but Obi-Wan felt his master's presence through one of the open doors.

"Good evening, padawan," Qui-Gon greeted from inside the room and Obi-Wan took the invitation for what it was, setting his bags on the common room floor and heading through the left doorway.

Qui-Gon smiled slightly at his padawan, half-turned away from unpacking the last of a travel bag. With a three-month stay and the required use of civilian clothes and accessories that Jedi normally did without, their source of materials to pack and unpack had grown considerably compared to other, shorter missions. "How did it go with Owa-Ren?"

"You already know his name?" Obi-Wan asked, starting vaguely.

"Well, Palas kindly informed Maen and myself before leaving us to settle in," the elder Jedi answered calmly, "but truth be told, I knew all your family's names before we arrived. Master Yoda left it to my judgment as to whether or not you knew ahead of time."

"You obviously decided against it," the padawan responded, allowing curiosity and the slightest annoyance to shine through in his voice.

"And you obviously found a way around it," Qui-Gon retorted with brows lifted, pausing in the middle of refolding a new civilian tunic to offer his padawan a look of challenge.

Obi-Wan sighed, letting go of his irritation and moving to sit on the chair beside the door. "I had the strangest feeling his name was Owen."

"Owen?" the Jedi Master inquired, once again pausing in the middle of refolding a tunic.

"I couldn't pronounce Owa-Ren," the seventeen-year-old announced wryly, bringing a chuckle from Qui-Gon.

"You could only have been a toddler at the time," the elder Jedi consoled amusedly. "It's not a new thing for small children to mispronounce names."

"I know," Obi-Wan accepted with a shake of his head. "What's my mother's name?"

"Belia," Qui-Gon replied without hesitation. "Oh, and your father asks that we call them by their first names. Simpler all around, really."

"I'll do that," the padawan nodded his understanding. "And if you don't already know, Belia is not happy about you being here. Owa-Ren saw fit to warn me outside. Not that I didn't already see it."

"I, too, have noticed her reaction to my presence," Qui-Gon sighed resignedly. "Hopefully it will dissipate with time."

"By the way," Obi-Wan changed subjects with little grace, discomfited by his mother's coldness, "you'll be happy to know I have another student in the art of space travel and ship specifications."

"Do you now?" Qui-Gon chuckled again, finally through with his unpacking. He moved to sit in the chair across from Obi-Wan with a satisfied exhale.

"Owa-Ren has never been off-planet, or even stepped onto the ramp of a ship," the padawan explained easily. "He probably would have held us past evening meal if I hadn't promised to talk at length about it sometime this week."

"You seem to have reached a good foothold with your brother."

Another wry expression graced Obi-Wan's face. "I think it was more to do with his eagerness than mine. My brother seems to enjoy talking and he hardly needs an inroad to start any topic. Reminds me a little of Garen, actually, although not nearly as bold."

"I'm glad things worked well between you," the Jedi Master commented easily, rising just as a knock fell upon the door of the common room. "Come, Padawan, I believe it's time for evening meal."

"This should be enjoyable," Obi-Wan muttered sarcastically as he followed, drawing a quelling expression from his master, but the young man's thoughts stayed on his mother's attitude regardless.

On the other side of the door stood Palas with Maen waiting behind him, the latter having donned a shawl trimmed in cream and gold flowers.

"You match," Palas observed keenly, a twinkle of amusement dwelling in his brown eyes. Obi-Wan did a double-take upon realizing his father was correct; the slate color of Maen's shawl matched his pants and jacket quite well. Maen glanced between their clothing with a bit of a start herself. Obi-Wan's civilian shirt even matched her cream gown.

"I didn't even pay attention," the dark-haired assistant admitted quietly. "If it bothers you, I can change."

"Please don't bother," Obi-Wan halted her immediately, putting up his hand in a conciliatory fashion.

"Coincidences do happen," Qui-Gon intervened diplomatically, although an amused smile remained barely hidden behind his stoic façade. "Regardless what Master Yoda might tell you."

Maen laughed with some relief, the sheepishness on her features fading away. "Yes, of course."

"Come along," Palas invited, and the continued twinkle in his eye filled Obi-Wan with some amount of dread. One amused Jedi Master and a teasing father in combination did not bode well. Ignoring the humor leaking through the training bond, Obi-Wan followed first after his father through the halls – with the full intention of putting Maen between him and his master. The plan backfired quite well – a feat the padawan only realized once they passed into the living area on the way to the dining room, and Owa-Ren took notice of the phenomena they had already discussed.

"Did you two plan to match?" the youngest Kenobi asked from his reclined position on the longest couch, brows drawn in confused curiosity.

Shutting his eyes briefly against irritation, Obi-Wan resigned himself to an evening of either teasing or chilly welcome. Either way, he didn't expect to enjoy the first evening with his reunited family.

"No, we didn't," Maen responded through a tight sigh once she realized Obi-Wan did not intend to. "It was pure coincidence."

"Oh," Owa-Ren said simply, backing down in the face of Maen's pending frustration. For such a young woman, the assistant had a very formidable presence.

"Come, Owa-Ren," Palas waved over his younger son. "Evening meal."

"Yes, Dad," the teenager responded respectfully and rose from his seat immediately to follow the eldest Kenobi.

Obi-Wan took as much in as possible on the way to the dining area, almost wishing they had taken the tour that day instead of planning it for the next. The sense of familiarity nearly drove him mad every step they took, but Qui-Gon nudged him understandingly through their bond, causing the young man to take a deep breath and calm himself before he reacted negatively.

"Here we are," Palas told them dutifully as they entered the dining area, a large and eclectically layered space with nothing that particularly matched. Whoever held sway in the cooking department clearly had not decorated the rest of the house. "This is our family dining room. We eat every meal here unless business calls us to be outside or to have company in the formal dining room."

"You cook yourselves, then?" Qui-Gon ascertained cautiously.

"Oh yes," Palas assured the Jedi master firmly. "We have no servants to intervene here. You need not worry about your secrecy, I promise you. And we have already arranged to have no company the next few months, so we will have no formal guests."

"The design in here is very different from the rest of the house," Obi-Wan hesitantly commented.

"My preference, I am afraid," Palas chuckled almost as if laughing at himself. "I am the cook of the family, mostly, although I did not have time to do so tonight. Belia and Owa-Ren can get by if need be, but I really enjoy making our meals. I hope the odd décor here does not deter from your appetites."

"Oh, no," Obi-Wan hastened to amend his statement. "All I meant was that it's… well, it's warmer here. More comfortable. Not like the rest of the house."

"Mom has a taste for…" Owa-Ren spoke up, and it seemed to take all his energy to find a kind way of describing Belia Kenobi's cold, empty designs, "well… tidy spaces."

"I don't like busy rooms," the woman herself spoke from the kitchen doorway. Obi-Wan could feel her cool attitude quite plainly in the force as he turned towards her stiffly postured form. "A well-organized, clean, and plainly decorated room is best."

Obi-Wan observed the slightest, almost imperceptible, glance his mother cast in Qui-Gon's direction.

"Clean simplicity is always so adaptable," Maen commented more lightly than befitting the situation, but in her eyes burned something Obi-Wan could not easily identify. "It's a design that faces and accepts change. It weathers any storm."

Belia seemed at first understanding, but slowly her eyes narrowed enough to worry Obi-Wan.

"True, Miss Rul," the Kenobi matriarch remarked ever more coldly, crossing her hands in front of her. "Of course, nothing can survive weathering without being hardened in the process."

"The most weather-beaten design can still be softened and revived," Maen offered quietly.

"Perhaps," Belia allowed, cool in tone and yet less rigid than a moment before.

Silence blanketed the group of six for a beat, leaving Obi-Wan uncomfortably aware of an entirely different subtext which had passed between his mother and Maen. Whatever the precise connotations, everyone in the room was well aware and no one particularly prepared to break the void.

"Our meal is ready," Belia finally spoke again, whatever warmth she had gained a few seconds prior dropping away like swirling mist. "Come."

Palas sighed to himself as his wife walked back into the kitchen, leaving Obi-Wan and Owa-Ren to exchange an awkward glance of understanding.

Wordlessly, Palas gestured everyone to be seated and took his chair at the head of the table. Maen eyed the settings with a keen gaze, until finally deciding on a chair perpendicular to the opposite end of the table, where Belia would most likely sit. Owa-Ren hurried to pull out Maen's chosen chair as he had obviously been taught and then stood behind the seat opposite her. The youngest Kenobi looked eager for his brother to sit with him, and Obi-Wan couldn't see any reason not to, leading him to settle beside Owa-Ren's intended place. That left Qui-Gon to take the seat opposite his padawan, between Maen and Palas.

As if pushed by an alarm, Owa-Ren left his spot when everyone was seated, heading into the kitchen and returning not long after with two dishes of one steaming vegetable or another.

"We have been eating more simply of late," Palas spoke up, a plain acceptance in his tone. "Adapting to costs, you might say. But then I imagine this is quite attuned to your diet at the Jedi Temple."

Qui-Gon made no move to speak, so Obi-Wan took the unspoken suggestion at face value and attempted to ignore the growing atmosphere of pretension and hesitance. "Yes, we have very little inventiveness in meals; only basic foods most beneficial to our health and activity. Of course, we're not supposed to focus on unnecessary indulgences, so it's of little importance really."

With a repressed quirk of the lips, Qui-Gon added his own opinion, "That's not to say it hasn't become boring at times."

Obi-Wan refrained from rolling his eyes with the barest of composure.

"There's no need to hold back so vehemently, Padawan," the Jedi Master chuckled. "The Council isn't going to destroy you for disliking the Temple menu."

"No," Obi-Wan retorted dryly. "Just for saying it out loud."

Qui-Gon chuckled further, his force presence full of genuine amusement, "Be that as it may…"

As they talked, the youngest Kenobi had echoed his actions twice more, adding a large dish of soup and a plate of breads, and finally a tray of two full pitchers. Belia then returned to their number with one last platter in her arms, and as quickly as he had moved to pull out Maen's chair, Owa-Ren moved to take the dish of meat from their mother and settle it near to Palas. Owa-Ren aided Belia into her seat before at last settling into a chair himself.

"Please, eat," the eldest of the family gestured at the meal spread before them with a welcoming expression.

Wordlessly the six of them rustled the dishes and served themselves of every item on the table, commencing to eat in silence that nothing seemed able to break. Owa-Ren, however, seemed determined to at least try.

"So, Obi-Wan," the brown-haired youth began hesitantly, "was it strange growing up on Coruscant?"

"I don't have much to compare it to," the ginger-haired padawan delayed quietly, catching his mother's suddenly tense shoulders with unhappy anticipation. "But I've never felt unhappy with the general atmosphere of the planet."

"Did you ever have trips outside the Temple?" the younger brother wondered, eyes burning with interest that even Belia's coldness could not dampen. "You know, with your peers in a class activity?"

"Not often," Obi-Wan shook his head, taking a bite from his meal before the next uncomfortable question came tumbling out.

"Oh," Owa-Ren paused awkwardly instead, returning to his own food with less interest.

The apparent impasse of conversation only ended several minutes later, when Palas took a breath and started a new topic, albeit almost as uncomfortably as his youngest son, "I wonder how the Supreme Chancellor will fare in his position."

"I'm not certain about him yet," Qui-Gon was quick to respond, a neutrality in his tone that Obi-Wan knew well when they discussed politicians. "He seems fairly average thus far."

"Not much to speak of at the moment," Palas agreed thoughtfully. "He's still very new, relatively speaking."

"Chancellor Valorum may be new," Maen latched onto the subject with great relief, Obi-Wan noticed, "but he is very experienced with the political world and has strong views on true constructive law. And what few discussions I have been able to engage him in, he is always consistent on his opinions."

"I will give him credit for that consistency," Palas nodded with mild appreciation. "His election campaign was very steady. Senator Galdeian spent too much time attacking the Sightline Party, I thought."

"He holds his own nose in more esteem than any one thousand citizens," Maen scoffed.

"And here I thought you were discussing Senator Dbao," Qui-Gon threw in almost laughingly.

"Oh, now, that man did think highly of himself," Palas shook his head in exasperation. "Three different fees on the exportation of his favorite herbs. Thank goodness the Senate took steps."

"That doesn't even compare with Senator Tanam last year," Qui-Gon remarked wryly.

Maen snorted delicately. "As if his thirty percent tax on seed exportation was anything more than a pocket-lining stunt…"

"That was an altogether ridiculous idea," Palas sighed, reaching for his muja juice with a distracted hand. "No intelligent community would have voted for it, regardless how it was explained."

"No one on that planet could have afforded the origin taxes anyway," Qui-Gon shook his head exasperatedly. "They had already lost a great deal of money on the new import fees the Udonians enforced over the spice trade route."

"True, true," Palas agreed with a nod, taking a sip of muja juice.

"Have you heard much about the commercial trade route their attempting to open in the Nule Sector?" Maen wondered curiously, turning to Palas with interest.

"Ah, the… 'highway to tax bypass' you mean?" Palas chuckled and Maen huffed a laugh in response. "Yes, I've heard quite a bit, actually. It's not very practical, all-in-all, especially considering the amount it will cost to create. Still, it would have its uses in the galaxy, the same as most trade routes."

"That's probably a very good area for trade, though," Qui-Gon commented thoughtfully. "Pirates typically don't make runs in the Nule Sector. The major governments' no-tolerance policies make them nervous."

"They shoot first and ask later, don't they?" Obi-Wan finally added a thought of his own, guessing the reason pirates feared going to the sector.

"It's more how they shoot that is so nerve-racking," Palas withheld a chuckle as he spoke.

Seeing the confusion of everyone at the table, Qui-Gon added patiently, "The poison they use in their weapons is one of the slowest-acting poisons you will ever find. But it makes its presence known very powerfully from the moment it enters the bloodstream. The pain, so I've been told, is absolutely excruciating."

"And that sector of the galaxy holds some of the best triggers," Palas finished the explanation.

Frowning, Owa-Ren spoke again to ask clarification, "What does that mean?"

"The planet of Lantae is filled with warrior factions," Qui-Gon answered the youngest Kenobi with his 'teaching' voice Obi-Wan noticed wryly, "who are highly skill with firearms of any kind; most other planets in the sector go there to train because of that skill. If you were shot by one those they trained, you would not escape the blast."

"Do you have more stories like that, Master Jinn?" Owa-Ren inquired interestedly, but Qui-Gon had no chance to reply when Belia interrupted.

"You don't need to know any more about poisons and blasters, Owa-Ren," the mother of two spoke with well-controlled disgust. Aimed at Qui-Gon as it as, Obi-Wan felt his hackles rising in response.

In the ensuing silence after Belia's chilly intervention, once again Owa-Ren was the first to make a hasty change of topic, hurriedly spooning some soup. "What is Palesa like, Maen? I've never even heard of it before."

The young assistant nearly sputtered in her expected reply, clearly having no words to express her confusion over Belia's actions and Owa-Ren's constant protection of them, but true to her almost unflappable nature, Maen replied confidently, "Right now it is very dangerous, Owa-Ren. Well, truth be told, it has been that way since I can remember. It is just that now it is becoming more obvious to more people."

"So is it a planet of warriors?" the sixteen-year-old inquired further, brows furrowed with curiosity.

"Not in the typical sense," Maen tried to explain simply, frowning in concentration. "We were originally an independent monarchy governing a world of agriculture and husbandry, then the clothing industry became a major factor in the economy as well. Since then it has modernized only so much and now stands farther behind than other systems in the way of technology and advancements."

"What makes it so dangerous?" the younger Kenobi brother inquired confusedly.

"Members of the government are corrupt," Maen explained simply, darkly. "Out of greed, they are destroying the quality of my planet and the people's lives."

"They seek gain only for themselves, not for the good of everyone who lives on Palesa," Qui-Gon expounded on the subject grimly, "Whenever greed is given first priority, people will turn on each other and ruin each other's live for the sake of profit and power."

Palas murmured with a frown, "Master Jinn is quite right—"

"If you will excuse me," Belia spoke abruptly, voice frigid, and stiffly stood from the table.

Everyone looked up in surprise at this second interruption, and Palas looked prepared to say something, but the man closed his mouth with another subtle frown as Belia headed back through the kitchen doorway and a few moments later through another door farther back.

"I don't understand," Obi-Wan expelled in the silence, frustration creeping through him as he shuffled food around his plate uninterestedly.

"Don't understand what?" Palas questioned gently.

"Why is she angry at us?" Obi-Wan finally asked the question that burned inside him, and it felt like a weight had released him from its grasp.

A lengthy stretch of silence overcame the entire table as the question floated between them like a bad odor. Even Qui-Gon, interested though he had to be in the answer, appeared rather awkward about the inquiry. At last, Palas sighed heavily and put a hand on his forehead tiredly.

"May we talk for a few moments, Obi-Wan?" the patriarch wondered, lifting his head again to see the answer from both master and padawan. The padawan in question turned to his master, who merely nodded his agreement.

Standing uncomfortably, father and son headed away from the table, Obi-Wan following through the halls until they reached a less rigid looking room with warm colors and more personal touches than the rest of the house. With holos of the family displayed everywhere and a number of mismatched pieces of furniture and decoration spread throughout, Obi-Wan felt a sense of comfort, however mild and muted, in what appeared to be another space his father had decorated. In the face of such a difficult discussion, the young man welcomed the slight comfort.

"Please, sit," Palas requested quietly, gesturing at two chairs around a small table.

For a stretch, the two remained silent and uncomfortable, Obi-Wan feeling another awkward wave of familiarity in what he realized was Palas' study. But after a while, Obi-Wan wondered if his father even knew what to say.

Taking the initiative, Obi-Wan spoke up once more with great discomfort, "Please, Palas… Why is she angry? Why take the troubles you are going through and place that pain on us? You could have refused to see us, if it bothered her so much. I'm sure the Council would have found an adequate safe house elsewhere."

Taking a sharp breath, Palas immediately began to shake his head in the negative. "No, no. We wanted to see you again. We all did. I promise you that."

"Then why the anger?" Obi-Wan practically demanded, frustrated and confused with the situation. Qui-Gon sensed his emotions all too easily, and the calming waves his master afforded through the Force were greatly welcomed.

"It is not you," Palas answered, again weary. "It is… Well…"

"It really is about Qui-Gon, isn't it?" Obi-Wan concluded unhappily. "His presence is the reason she's so upset."

Reluctantly, the ailing man nodded his consensus at last. "I fear I must admit that truth to you."

"Why?" the younger man begged explanation. "Why such fury for a man she doesn't even know? All he has ever done is teach me and take care of me. He is my mentor, my friend, practically my…"

With that simple defense, Obi-Wan realized quite suddenly what his mother's true trouble was.

"Your family," Palas finished understandingly for the seventeen-year-old, and Obi-Wan could only nod. "Yes, Obi-Wan, I know. Master Yoda told me as much when he contacted us a few days ago. That is, indeed, Belia's trouble."

"Then the only question that keeps running through my mind," Obi-Wan said confusedly, "is why. Always why. You chose to give me up. It was your choice to do so. To give me a chance to use the power I was born with for the good of others."

"We could not truly have fathomed the cost of that choice," Palas admitted softly, the pain in his eyes all too real for Obi-Wan, who had given little thought to his family's pain because of losing him. "No one can know the true cost of giving their child into another's hands, no matter how powerful the cause. Even if it was the only way to keep you safe from harm in a dangerous situation, it would still pain us deeply. It hurt us every day to not talk to you, or hear your little voice, or watch you take steps across the floor of our home. That was why your visit was so important to us. We desired more than anything to see our little son, to know who he had become in his new life."

"I still don't understand any of this," Obi-Wan pressed uncomfortably. As much as he felt for his biological family, he knew he still loved the unusual life and family he had been given through the Jedi. And several things still didn't make sense on a grand scale. "Not to be rude, but I was under the impression families could no longer ask anything of their child's life once given to the Jedi. Why would Master Yoda allow you to stipulate this visit in the first place?"

"Stipulate?" Palas questioned, brow furrowed in a very familiar way. Obi-Wan wondered where he had gotten that expression; the fact he gained it from the father he never knew made it all the stranger.

"Yes, stipulate," Obi-Wan pressed with a frown of his own. "Master Yoda told me what you required in order to let them to take me."

"What I required?" the older man repeated incredulously, his sincerity leaving Obi-Wan in a quandary.

"Didn't you require seeing me before you… before you passed on?" the younger man hesitantly questioned.

"Of course not," Palas assured him more quietly, understanding still slow to enter his gaze. "I did not want to confuse your life in such a way, no matter how much I missed you. Besides, you are right. When he came to pick you up, Master Yoda explained to us that our parental rights and privileges become forfeit under the law. It is just like a closed adoption. Until the child comes of age and chooses to meet them, the parents cannot have contact."

"But… But Master Yoda said it was a stipulation of—" Obi-Wan began, but stopped abruptly as the words rolled over and over in his mind.

A stipulation of our training you, it was.

"He said it was a stipulation… but he never said it was your stipulation," the padawan murmured the revelation almost beneath his breath, staring without seeing at the table beneath his clasped hands.

"I still don't really know what you're talking about," Palas admitted just as quietly, but patiently.

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan spoke abruptly, looking up to catch his father's gaze with sincerity. "I assumed the stipulation of seeing you before you— I thought it was of your own making. I think now it was a stipulation Master Yoda made for some reason. Perhaps with the Council. I don't know why… but it's the only thing that makes any sense. At least, more sense than the previous assumption."

"You think Master Yoda required you be allowed to come and see me before I die?" Palas asked confusedly. "I did wish for it in the deepest parts of my mind, but… I never expected it. Not once. Every hope I had was wistful and I never have any real belief it would ever happen."

"For some reason, Master Yoda wanted me to see you before it was too late," Obi-Wan responded thoughtfully. "I've yet to know why…"

"I see now what you have been troubled by," Palas pursed his lips in thought. "You thought we were trying to rip away your life with the Jedi by bringing you here to us."

Startled by the belief, Obi-Wan looked up at his father and blinked a few times before responding, "Well, nothing that macabre, I assure you. It was just that I viewed only one perspective of the situation before coming to my conclusions."

"Our perception of the world depends greatly on our point of view," the older man replied with a slight smile.

"Yes, it does," Obi-Wan exhaled a little awkwardly. "Again, I'm sorry. I should not have assumed."

"It is nothing to be sorry for," Palas assured him kindly. "You do not know us, or what might motivate us. It would only be natural to worry about losing the life you have gained."

"I never stopped to consider what you had to give up," Obi-Wan quietly confessed, "in order for me to have that life."

"You had no reason to," the Kenobi patriarch denied without judgment. "You were involved in your life. The life we sent you away to have. I am glad you did not worry over it and cause yourself undue pain."

"Thank you," the padawan smiled slightly, still awkward but feeling more at ease as he began to realize the kind of person his father was.

"You are very welcome, Obi-Wan," Palas smiled genuinely. "I apologize for your mother's behavior. She is... a very stubborn soul. Determined and… very sensitive."

"I might know something about those things," Obi-Wan was able to force out, however unfortunate it sounded.

"In time, Belia will realize she is wrong," Palas reassured his eldest. "It will not be easy, but she will eventually see that truth."

"I hope you're right," Obi-Wan sighed, imagining three months with the coldness of his mother and coming away greatly disheartened by the ordeal it could so easily become.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed Chapter 9: Anxiety!

Pronunciation Guide:
Palas (pah-las)
Belia (bay-LEE-ah)
Owa-Ren (OH-ah-rehn)