Author: Chaos
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Qui-gon and Obi-wan and the universe they come from, along with their vehicle and all their luggage belong to George Lucas exclusively. They are respectfully borrowed with no intent to profit thereby or infringe on the copyright thereof.



Section 2

All the surprised woman knew was that it took a few moments for her addled, wandering mind to register that there was something in the roadway and then it was a blur of frantic breaking, squealing rubber and smoking tires. Her head was twisted to the side, anticipating the worst, and her fingers clenched at the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. When she didn�t feel that dreaded, horrible thump of hitting something live with a moving vehicle, the newly graduated engineer pried her eyes open and stared through the dusty, bug splattered windshield at the two men standing there. They looked about as surprised as she felt.

For a while they just stared at each other. She took in their appearance in the stunned silence that followed. They were wearing light tan tunics secured with a belt and robes of a darker brown. The wind howling across the desert whipped at their hair and plastered their robes to one side of their bodies. That would account for why they didn�t hear me coming, she thought.

From the short distance of the driver�s seat to only a foot or so from the front bumper she could see that both men had the most marvelous blue eyes. The older one didn�t look to be more than thirty-five or so and his companion couldn�t have been much older than seventeen. The older man had long brown hair and a short, neatly trimmed beard and moustache, both sprinkled with a bare tracing of grey. His companion, son maybe, had what looked like a slightly grown out crew-cut with a long braid hanging down his right shoulder from over his ear. When the young man turned his head to look at his companion, Debrah could see a short ponytail gathered at the back of his head.

�Waddya think, Jinx?� she asked the empty air. Well, actually it was the car she was addressing. Of course, there was no answer, but she hadn�t really expected one. The day you get an answer from the car, Reimers, is the day you need to stop talking to it.

There was no sign of their vehicle anywhere. She hadn�t passed one. Debrah was sure she would have noticed that large an anomaly in the passing excuse for scenery no matter what her mental state. They�d been facing down the road ahead of her, so she naturally jumped to the conclusion that they�d been dumped by some trucker that they�d been hitchhiking with. That theory made more sense than them walking all this way under their own power.

Debrah popped the door open and stood, half in-half out. She was ready to retreat back to the relative safety of locked doors, should they prove to be a problem, but for some reason she got the feeling that it wouldn�t be necessary. There was such a calm, unthreatening aura about them that she didn�t even edge her hand closer to the crowbar she kept strapped to the side of Jinx�s driver�s seat.

She looked at them and they looked back at her. She knew what they saw. Much as she liked to round up that last half inch, Debrah wasn�t really five and a half feet tall. They saw a lean, but sturdy frame, her bones structure being too large for her to ever be able to acquire the slender, waif-ish look that was the current measure of beauty. Her honey-blond hair, framing a round face, was finally dipping past the bottom of her shoulder blades for the first time in years and her eyes, from any sort of distance, were a creamy, jade green.

�You guys okay?� Much as Debrah tried to keep her tone neutral, some of her surprise and confusion, not to mention concern, must have shown through.

The older of the two, now that she was standing the woman could see that he was every bit as tall as he had seemed when she�d been sitting, bobbed his head in a polite sort of miniature bow. Peace and tranquility rolled off the both of them in palpable waves. �We are unharmed.� His voice was deep and soothing and Great Caesar�s Ghost, that accent!

She heaved a deep sigh, partly relief, partly she didn�t know what. �Thank goodness. I almost didn�t see you in time. You really shouldn�t be standing in the middle of the road like that. Most of the cars around here move a little faster than I do and would make a much bigger mess of things when they turn you into road pizza.�

Both brows furrowed in mild confusion and they glanced at each other. Debrah took a moment to really absorb the clothes they wore. They looked like monks or wandering priests. Which would explain why they weren�t all that familiar with standard Northern California vernacular. They also didn�t appear to have any sort of luggage or anything with them. Who travels with no luggage? she wondered to herself.

�No offense or anything, guys, but you look a little lost and there isn�t a bus driver worth his salt who will stop for anything or anyone way out here in the middle of nowhere. Where�re you headed?�

�We are lost,� the older one conceded. �We aren�t even sure of where we are, let alone where we should go from here.� Please don�t stop talking! she begged silently. She wasn�t the least reticent about admitting that accents like his got to her every time. Scottish, Irish, Australian, Debrah didn�t much care what they said as long as that sound kept coming out of their mouths, and the voice he had to go along with that accent certainly didn�t hurt.

�Well, we�re about an hour past the �vada-utah line with miles of nothing in just about any direction you care to take. I�m on my way back to Cali.� She raised an eyebrow and waited for some sort of response. A shift in stance, a shared uncertain look and the blond woman was pretty sure, again, that neither of them had any clue what she�d just said. She rubbed at the bridge of her nose and shook her head. �Sorry, I slip into Cali short speak when I�m tired. We�re in eastern Nevada and I�m headed to California, specifically the Bay Area and you guys look like you could use some help.�

�We would be grateful for any assistance you would care to offer, but we don�t wish to inconvenience you.� As long as you keep talking, it�s me who�ll be grateful, she thought. There just weren�t enough celts in central Utah. It had obviously been far too long since she�d heard such a wonderful soft Irish accent or a voice like that. Of course, with or without that incredibly attractive voice, Debrah had always been a soft touch when it came to lost puppy types, and they don�t come much more lost than those two were then.

Something told Debrah that she should, no, that she needed to help these people. The last time she�d had a feeling this strong she�d put on her hiking boots not fifteen minutes after kicking off her tennis shoes. Twenty minutes after that the earth had heaved and her home had quivered fit to fall. She�d ended up running down a hallway paved with broken glass and fallen books to get out of the house after the California earthquake of �89. It was not a feeling to ignore and she had no intention of ignoring it.

�Well, if you don�t mind going to California go ahead and hop in.� Debrah reached down to the door�s armrest and hit the doorlock release. They moved calmly toward the passenger side of the car. She watched, eyes narrowed at the way they moved, bodies balanced, muscles relaxed. She could see that both of them had martial training. Experience told her that, strong feelings and second degree black belt not withstanding, should they make trouble it was a good thing she had both that crowbar and a police issue Mag-lite within easy reach.

*******

Several silent miles down the road Debrah decided that it was about time her passengers started to repay her kind and generous nature. She hadn�t heard so much as a single syllable out of either of them and she was starting to get itchy. Knowing that fabulous accent was right there and not hearing it was becoming a sort of torture. Besides, talking to them would take her mind off the fact that she would have no one to talk to once she arrived home.

�So, either of you have a name?�

Out of the corner of her eye, Debrah saw that bearded visage turn toward her, a smile tugging at his lips. �My apologies. I am Qui-gon Jinn, and he is Obi-wan Kenobi.�

Dark blond eyebrows raised. �Kenobi, huh?�

From over her right shoulder, the young man spoke for the first time. �Yes.� It lilted lightly with the rolling sounds of Scotland. Lord bless me, but his accent is just as pleasing to the ear as Qui-gon�s. Oh, if I can keep both of them talking I�m going to be in heaven for the rest of what has started out as a real loser of a trip.

�Those are unusual names. I guess whatever monastery you guys come from doesn�t believe in conforming to the mainstream, huh?� She glanced over her shoulder. �My name is Debrah Reimers, but my friends all call me Morgan.�

�Both of those are pretty names.� Rats! Have to break them out of these one sentence answers, she grumbled to herself.

�So, how�d you end up way out here in the middle of nowhere?�

Debrah heard Obi-wan shift forward in his seat just before Qui-gon answered. �Our transport was damaged. We moved it out of sight so that it would not be stolen and then went looking for help.�

The engineer was confused by their terminology for a short moment. �Transport? You mean your car?� She heard the derision and disbelief in her voice and immediately felt bad. It wasn�t their fault that they didn�t know how people talked now-a-days out in the real world. �Sorry, I�m just not really used to anyone talking that way. It�s pretty antiquated.� There was no response to that and they drove on in silence for a few miles more.

Unaccustomed to silent people after three years spent in apartments with five other girls, Debrah reached up and pushed her hair behind one ear in a nervous gesture she�d never managed to suppress. The silence was making her itchy again. Well, Reimers, it�s not like you�re all that great a conversationalist anyway. Admit it, you just want to hear them talk.

�Since you guys aren�t going to provide me with scintillating conversation I�m going to turn on some music.� She gave the volume knob a stiff twist and punched the scan button as Qui-gon quietly stated that they wouldn�t mind some music. All the radio scanned was static. This far out in the middle of nowhere and she counted herself lucky to get that much.

�Obi-wan, do me a favor and open up that box next to you?� Debrah asked over her shoulder. �There should be a couple of tapes labeled �Sons of Sommerled�, or �Enya�, or �Celtic mix� right on top. Just pick one.� She heard the young man rustle around, the tapes clicking against each other or against the CDs that occupied most of the box�s volume. She rested her hand, palm up, on the shoulder of the seat and waited for him to hand her the tape. It took longer than she had expected, but the kid wasn�t familiar with the layout of the box the way she was, so it was no big deal.

Debrah opened the case by feel and slid the cassette into the tape deck, already anticipating the stirring drum rhythms or soft guitar strains that would issue forth from the speakers. What she got was steel guitar and electric fiddles. In confusion, she brought the case up before her eyes to see if she had accidentally put something away wrong. But no, the case she held was clearly labeled �Blackhawk� in her own round-lettered hand writing.

�Hmm,� she tossed the empty case onto the dash. �Not what I would have expected you to choose, but,� she shrugged. �I wouldn�t have it in there if I didn�t like it.� Giving the volume another good twist to drown out the road noise, she let the music wash through her. Pretty soon Debrah was singing right along with the songs. The blond loved to sing, but didn�t usually do it in front of other people for fear of being judged less than acceptable. These two were in her car, though, so they were just going to have to put up with her voice, even if it wasn�t on the same level with say, Whitney Huston. It wasn�t till the tape switched sides some forty-five minutes later that she realized that the kid wasn�t singing along. In fact, when she glanced at him over her shoulder, he didn�t even seem familiar with the music. The woman frowned in confusion. Why�d he pick it then?

Taking her attention off a road that didn�t really warrant it, Debrah glanced at her passengers. Both were sitting quietly, calmly, simply enjoying the ride. She shook her head at herself. She�d never met anyone so calm in her life.

�I have to say, Mr. Jinn, that your son is one of the best behaved teenagers I�ve ever come across.� And it was true. Debrah hadn�t ever been that calm for this extended a period when she�d been about his age. At least, not without being asleep.

�Qui-gon, please. And thank you, but Obi-wan is not my son, as honored as I would be for it to be so.�

Debrah�s smile disappeared faster than a pizza at an all night study session and she turned to look at him. �But you�re his legal guardian, right? I mean, you�re the one responsible, legally, for his welfare, aren�t you?�

�Yes, I am.� His voice was even and reassuring, but his words calmed the anxious driver faster than his tone.

�Good.� She gave an over exaggerated sigh of relief. �The last thing I need now is to be brought up on charges of Kidnapping; accessory after the fact.�

�Don�t worry,� Obi-wan quipped from behind her. Debrah knew that tone of voice. Her little brother used one almost exactly like it when he was about to say something similar to what came out of the young man�s mouth. �I�ll tell them that you treated me well and ask that they give you a lighter sentence.�

She laughed out loud while Qui-gon looked mildly pained. �You�re a cheeky little punk aren�t you? I knew I was gonna like you, kid.�

The conversation lapsed after that. There wasn�t a whole lot that she could chit-chat with them about, since they probably didn�t follow any sports, any politics, current music or movie stars or anything else that she was knowledgeably conversant with. Once Debrah got used to it, though, the silence was actually rather nice. There was a strange sort of peace around her guests that she couldn�t help but feel and all the emptiness that had been dogging her heels for the last two weeks sort of faded into the background. It didn�t just disappear, that would have been too easy and probably would have been bad for her in the long run, but it became unimportant and she could ignore it for a while.

At Nevada mile marker 183, the peace and calm became a little too much. Debrah badly need to stretch her legs and get her circulation going a little faster, so she pulled off the side of the road. Jinx rolled to a smooth stop on the gravel shoulder and Debrah popped her door open immediately.

�Just gotta stretch my legs, guys.� She explained to her passengers. �You can too, if you want. I need to get my blood moving again.� The blond stepped out of the car and walked off the road. Obi-wan and Qui-gon followed her after a moment, the taller man unfolding his long limbs with just the slightest hint of relief on his face. For a time Debrah just stood and alternately tensed and relaxed all the muscles in her legs and let her head hang loosely on her neck. After hours of driving it felt amazingly good. When the novelty of that wore off, she walked some more, swinging her arms, both to stretch and to exercise. Then she leaned into the back seat of the little white car and grabbed up three juice drinks from the small cooler she kept there and some granola bars. She tossed one of each to her companions. Her can of juice opened with a pop and a hiss of escaping gas and she downed half the contents immediately. After that she unwrapped her granola bar and leisurely worked her way through both. Why is it, she wondered, that traveling seems to be such exhausting business when all I�m really doing is just sitting in my car keeping it pointed in the right direction?

Both of the men walked a little, but didn�t seem too urgent in their need for relief from sitting. But then, they hadn�t been in the car nearly as long as she had. For the most part, they simply stood, looking out across the barren desert with their hands clasped together in front of them and hidden from view by the long sleeves of their robes. The two of them, standing there side by side, looking out at the distant mountains reminded the engineer of Japanese paintings she�d seen. All that was missing was an ocean view and a bonsai tree to complete the picture. Debrah passed around the garbage bag she kept in Jinx�s back seat for the bar wrappers and drink cans and then wandered in circles a little more.

�So, what monastery do you guys come from?�

�It does not have a formal name.� Qui-gon replied and Debrah could sense some hesitation in his answer.

�Oh. Small then, I guess. Where�s it at?�

�Some distance from here.�

The woman shook her head at the man�s back. Qui-gon was like a Microsoft user�s manual. All the information he�d given was technically correct, but it wasn�t particularly useful. She let the subject drop, since she wasn�t getting anywhere anyway and went back to wandering in circles.

�Got a learner�s permit, kid?� Debrah asked suddenly on a whim. After all, she wasn�t the only one in the car any more, so why did she have to be the only one driving?

Obi-wan stared at her in confusion for a moment. �I beg your pardon?�

�Wanna take a shot at driving the car?�

Debrah saw the quick interest and excitement in his bright blue eyes, though he squashed them quickly enough before turning to Qui-gon. �May I, Master?�

The wry smile that tugged at the older man�s lips was becoming quite familiar by now. He sagely nodded his permission and moved to sit in the back of the car. Debrah slid into the passenger seat and buckled herself in while the kid slid in behind the wheel. It took less time than she had expected. She�d not run the seat back before climbing out and young though he might be he was still taller than she was. Nimbler too, if the ease with which he angled himself in was anything to judge by.

Debrah watched as Obi-wan scanned the entire dashboard and footwell. �How do I . . .?� She laughed lightly at his enthusiasm.

�Hold on. First things first.� She put her hand on his shoulder to get his attention. �Don�t be offended, but I�m going to assume that you don�t know anything. That way neither of us will miss anything, okay?�

�Alright,� was his unruffled reply.

�Okay, first you�re going to want to adjust the seat.� She pointed to where his knees were jammed against the dash. �You�ve got slightly longer legs than I have and I don�t imagine that you�ll be very comfortable driving like that for any length of time.� The electrical-engineer-turned-driving-instructor pointed out the release lever for the seat and it dawned on her that Qui-gon, tallest of the three, was wedged into the back behind her. Embarrassed at her own lapse, she quickly ran her seat up to give him more leg room and tossed an apologetic smile over her shoulder at him. He gave her a bow of his head and that same wry half smile to tell her the lapse was already forgiven.

�Now, fasten your seatbelt and adjust your mirrors so that you can see out the back and sides of the car.� Again he fumbled around, looking for the controls till she pointed them out. �Okay,� indicating the various gauges or levers, Debrah explained the odometer, the tachometer, the thermostat, the fuel gauge, the headlights and signaling lights, the gear shift and the parking brake. �The rest is easy as pie since this is an automatic transmission.� She smiled as she repeated her oldest brother�s one complaint about the car. �You don�t really drive an automatic, you aim it. The pedals are brake and accelerator, no, only use your right foot. If you get in the habit of braking with your left you�re going to be in real trouble if you ever end up in a car with a manual tranny. So, your foot is stop and go and the wheel is side to side. Got it?�

Obi-wan had followed her little speech very carefully and now nodded gravely. �Okay then. Crank the key and start her up.� The little white car coughed with only a token protest and started right up. �Alright, put your foot on the brake, pull the stick back to �Drive� to put her into gear. Release the parking brake. Okay.� Debrah smiled at the absolute concentration on the young man�s face. He looked like he was trying to learn to pilot the space shuttle. �Now look back over your shoulder to check for on-coming traffic.� He obediently looked out the window, but there was nothing to see. �Ease down on the gas and steer us back onto the highway.�

Following her instructions a little too closely, Obi-wan maneuvered the car up onto the road and it crept along at barely ten miles per hour. �You can run her up to sixty-five or so, Obi.� She remarked drily. �The limit around here is seventy.�

�At least I won�t hit anything in the road way,� he replied drily as the car accelerated, a hint of a smile on his lips. She refrained from giving him a stiff whack on the shoulder only because he was a new driver and he wasn�t really her little brother, no matter how much he acted like it.




Section 3