"Obi-Wan, it's almost seven-thirty. You need to get up."

Qui-Gon heard a muffled groan escape from underneath his Padawan's covers. He flipped back the corner of the heavy blanket, exposing one tiny foot. "Let's go," he said, tugging on Obi-Wan's heel.

"No! Cold!" Obi-Wan cried, pulling his foot back into the warmth of his bed. He peeked his nose out over the edge of the blanket. "I'm coming."

"Not fast enough. Come on. This is the last time you have to go to your Force manipulation class, remember? Next week you'll be in a new class and you're going to have a great time." He walked over to the door, making sure the boy at least had his feet on the floor. "One more day. I'll get you some juice, okay?"

Obi-Wan blinked sleepily as he padded across the carpet, tugging up his pajama bottoms. "Coming, Master."

Qui-Gon shook his head, yawning himself. He didn't like the idea of Obi-Wan working with children older than seven, but he couldn't justify keeping him behind, especially in his Force class. He'd known from his very first encounter with Obi-Wan that the boy had an unusual sensitivity, so he supposed he should have predicted this situation. Pouring a glass of kufruit juice for his Padawan, he heard the boy call out from the other room.

"Master! I don't have any more clothes!"

Qui-Gon froze. The laundry. He had forgotten the laundry. "Check your bottom drawer! You must have something in there!"

He heard some loud rustling. "I only have a pair of pants!"

Sighing, Qui-Gon walked out of the kitchen, down the corridor to Obi-Wan's room. "You forgot to wash my clothes," Obi-Wan said indignantly, his skinny arms folded across his bare chest as he shivered, bouncing on his toes.

Qui-Gon knelt on the floor, sifting through the pile of dirty tunics on the floor, frowning. "Well, even if you had clean clothes you'd never find them in this mess. This room is getting cleaned up. Tonight."

"What am I going to wear?"

Qui-Gon sat back on his ankles. "Okay." He looked through the topmost tunics, searching for one without any glaring stains on the front. Finally finding a mildly wrinkled one, he sniffed it. "Here. This one will do. And I will do laundry today, I promise."

Obi-Wan pulled the old tunic over his head, and Qui-Gon stood up, turning to walk out the door. "Wait. Did you have any clean underwear left?"

The boy bobbed his head vigorously. "Last pair."

"Thank goodness. You know, you could have said something. Like, 'Master, I'm out of clothes.'"

Obi-Wan scampered after him, still tugging on some slightly dirty socks. "I thought that was your job to keep track."

"Even Masters need a little help sometimes." He ruffled the boy's short hair as his Padawan ran past into the kitchen. "Here. Drink your juice."

"But--"

"I can't send you off without at least having something to drink. You know I--"

Qui-Gon felt a slight tremor in the Force, and his body tensed. It had come from somewhere in the Temple, but it wasn't from the Dark side. Waiting a few moments, the tremor passed and he felt nothing.

"Master? Are you okay?"

Obi-Wan looked up at him, eyes wide, the stain of red juice on his upper lip.

Qui-Gon nodded, his senses still tingling. "Did you just feel something, Obi-Wan?"

The boy closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. "Nope. I don't think so." He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, leaving a pink streak on the fabric. "Did you?"

Handing Obi-Wan his boots, Qui-Gon shrugged. "I guess it must have been a stray Force eddy or something."

"Maybe you just shivered because it's so cold in here," Obi-Wan suggested, an innocent smile on his face.

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. "Wait until winter comes."

"What? It's going to get colder?"

"Come on. Let's go."

***

"What are you doing here?" Qui-Gon keyed in the slide door. "I thought you were meeting with the Council this morning about your proposal."

Bel-San stepped inside, his curly, wayward hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, and his formal robes draped over his short frame. "I was. Then I got a message when I got there that my meeting would be postponed until further notice. What's that about?"

Qui-Gon shook his head, walking back towards the couch where he had spread out some diplomatic data disks and datamaps. "All dressed up and nowhere to go, huh?"

"Yeah, well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. The Council too busy to hear the requests of one of the little people? What? That sort of thing never happens."

"Come on, Bel-San, you're dripping sarcasm all over my new carpet."

Bel-San smirked. "Ha ha. Seriously, does the Council usually pull this kind of stunt? I mean, you've had more dealings with them in the past than I have. . ."

Qui-Gon sat back, raising his eyebrows. "I don't know about that. But actually, I am rather surprised. Usually they keep better track. I thought Mace said the Council was pretty interested in your ideas."

"That's Mace. Who knows what's really going on." Bel-San sat down on a chair opposite, tugging the hair tie from behind his head. "Speaking of our less-than-reputable friends, please tell me the rumor I heard isn't true."

"Which one?"

"Tell me the wolfman hasn't gone and done what I heard he did."

Qui-Gon couldn't contain his smile. "Oh, you mean taking a Padawan?"

Bel-San groaned. "I weep for the future. What's going on around here? Is there something in the water?"

"It's that kid Kerge I told you about, the one--"

"Who nearly killed you."

Qui-Gon sighed. "He wouldn't have killed me. Please. Have a little more faith in my abilities, won't you?"

Bel-San kicked his feet up on the low table between them. "So then why was your Padawan quicker on the Force draw, huh?"

Shaking his head, Qui-Gon folded his hands behind his neck. "You're just jealous you don't have a six-year-old to spill juice on your robes and wake you up at five am with nightmares and show you up on Choosing day in front of all the masters."

Bel-San grinned. "Don't even pretend. You love being Obi-Wan's Master and you know it."

Though he fought back a smile, he felt his lips curving regardless. "It's hard to believe that there was a time he wasn't in my life. I feel like I've known him for years, but then I suddenly realize I haven't even been his Master for an entire term yet. It's so strange. . .he's got this funny little personality that just keeps emerging, and he constantly surprises me. I swear, we terrorized our masters, but I really think that I am going to get a run for my money where he is concerned."

Bel-San nodded, his expression wistful. "We did, didn't we? That seems like such a long time ago. But then, you were terrorizing poor Yoda long before I started making Master Sy-Mon's life a living hell."

"He was an incredible Jedi." Qui-Gon paused, not sure how much more to say. Bel-San rarely talked about his old Master, and Qui-Gon understood his reluctance. Speaking of painful memories wasn't an activity he relished either.

"That he was." Bel-San swallowed, looking away towards the windows behind Qui-Gon. "So what should I do about this Council situation, huh?"

Qui-Gon tried not to make any notice of the distinct change in conversation, but he couldn't help clearing his throat. "Have you tried contacting them? Or maybe if you--"

The wall comm unit beeped, and Qui-Gon stood, somewhat surprised. He didn't get a lot of calls at this time of the day.

"Yes?"

"Qui-Gon? It's Adi Gallia."

Qui-Gon looked over at Bel-San, whose expression grew puzzled. "How are you?"

Her voice seemed hushed, and Qui-Gon had to listen closely. "There's something I think you should know. . .we were asked not to say anything, but. . .since you were his Padawan, I just thought--"

Qui-Gon's heart stopped for a moment. "Yoda. What happened?"

"He's in the Infirmary. They haven't told us anything yet; he collapsed this morning."

He slammed his hand against the wall beside the unit, feeling his throat constrict. He should have known from what he'd felt a few hours ago. It should have been obvious.

"Listen, I have to go. The Council is going to have an informal meeting in a little while. I am sorry to be the one to tell you, but I thought this was information you needed to have."

Qui-Gon swallowed thickly, rubbing his forehead. "Thank you, Adi. And I won't tell anyone it was you that--"

"That would be kind. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Qui-Gon swore, turning on his heel towards Bel-San. "I can't believe I didn't realize it. I just wrote it off, I thought it was nothing. What was I thinking?"

Bel-San moved slowly over to where he stood, his palms up. "Slow down. What are you talking about?"

He bit his lip, shaking his head. "This morning. I sensed. . .something, but I let it go. It was my Master, and now he's--"

"They don't even know what's going on yet, Qui-Gon. It's not your fault; how could you have known?"

Qui-Gon pulled his long brown robe from its usual place on the arm of the couch. "I'm going down there. Right now."

Bel-San took a quick breath, hesitating to speak. "Do you really think that's such a good idea?"

Qui-Gon flicked a look at Bel-San, and then turned to the door. "Good ideas are pretty much irrelevant at this point." He pressed the slide door open, gesturing for Bel-San to follow. "Are you coming?"

They took the turbolift to the Infirmary floor, and after his many stays in the medical wing, Qui-Gon had no trouble finding his way through the complex maze of patient's rooms and med chambers.

"Where do you think he would be?" Bel-San whispered, following behind.

Qui-Gon paused for a moment, unsure where to go. He reached out to the Force, feeling along the thread of bond that still connected him to his former Master. Closing his eyes, he let the Force direct him. "He's this way. Come on."

Using his bond, Qui-Gon moved through the less frequently used areas of the Infirmary, finally arriving at a long corridor. He saw a white-robed Healer a few meters away, and he sighed with relief. "Charr'a!"

She turned, unable to meet his gaze. Walking towards him, she clutched a datapad to her chest. "How did you know?"

Qui-Gon folded his hands in front of him, trying to remain composed. "He's my Master. I knew."

Charr'a nodded, pursing her lips. "It's been a difficult morning. We're still not sure what's wrong." She spoke quietly in a thin monotone.

"You have no idea?"

She waited a moment before speaking. "It could be a number of things, but nothing is certain at this point. It could be a virus, it could be an allergic reaction. . ." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Or poison."

Qui-Gon struggled to swallow, overwhelmed. "Can't you--"

Charr'a held up a hand. "Please, Qui-Gon, I've already told you more than I should have. We simply don't know. I can't speculate any further."

He nodded, dropping his hands to his sides in partial defeat. "Can I see him?"

Charr'a twisted her fingers around the edge of the datapad. "He was unconscious when we found him. He hasn't woken up yet."

Qui-Gon stepped back involuntarily, stifling a gasp. His Master had been ill from time to time, but never seriously in all the years he'd known him. "Please," he said quietly, "I only need a minute."

"Well, I don't know--"

A low voice called out from behind her. "Absolutely not."

Qui-Gon narrowed his gaze. "Mace?"

The dark silhouette of his friend moved down the corridor, his form finally materializing in the glow cast from the light above. "No one may see him."

"I mean no disrespect, Mace, but you're not his Healer. I think Charr'a--"

Mace shook his head, his lips tight. "Council's orders. Until we know the source of his illness, no one but the Healers may see him."

Qui-Gon stepped forward, preparing to push past Mace. "He is my Master, and I will see him."

"I really don't think you want to defy the Council on this point, Qui-Gon. Your record isn't exactly spotless, and you don't want to go under review again, especially now that you have Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon raised himself up to his full height. "Are you threatening me? You're threatening me with Obi-Wan now?"

Mace crossed his arms over his chest, meeting Qui-Gon's level gaze. "Look. I know this is hard for you. We all feel like Yoda is a Master to us, but--"

"You don't know a damn thing! No one on that Council knows him as well as I do!" He pulled in a painful breath, and he pointed a finger in Mace's face. "If the situation were reversed, you know I would never bar you from your Master."

Mace didn't blink. "That's the difference between you and me. I can maintain protocol in emotional situations, and you can't."

Qui-Gon's eyes flew open, his fists balling. He felt Bel-San's hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. "This is not going any further. Qui-Gon, let's go," Bel-San said, his tone commanding.

He resisted Bel-San's grip, but finally he forced himself to take a step back.

Mace let his hands fall to his sides, letting a clipped sigh escape his mouth. "When we are able, we will certainly contact you."

"Don't do me any favors," he spat back. Qui-Gon looked over at Charr'a, whose expression had turned a sickly pale. "Thank you for taking care of him. Please let me know as soon as he wakes. Even if I can't see him, I would appreciate being updated on his condition."

"I'll do what I can," she whispered, her gaze dropping to the floor.

Qui-Gon turned, shrugging off Bel-San's grip. He looked back at Mace, whose stony countenance remained. "You should have told me."

Mace released a quiet sigh. "There's nothing you can do. And at this point, this is Council business."

"No. It's my business. Because I was his Padawan, and I knew that something happened to him this morning." He swallowed quickly, trying to release his emotion to the Force and failing miserably. "And you can tell the Council..." He stopped, biting back his bitter words. It wasn't worth it, and if he provoked Mace any further, it might block his last avenues for information. "Let's go, Bel-San."

***

Qui-Gon laid on his back, breathing slowly. It had been over ten hours since he'd been to the Infirmary, yet he still had no word on his Master. He had tried to meditate, but concentration eluded him. He knew the Force still linked him to his Master, but until Yoda regained some level of consciousness, there was no way for them to communicate. Checking the thin bond once more, he felt no response.

A slight rustling sound made him sit up; it sounded like someone was in the hallway. "Obi-Wan?"

Squinting in the darkness of his chamber, he made out the small form of his Padawan in the doorway. "I didn't mean to wake you up, Master," he whispered, not moving from the doorway. The boy's voice was strained, and Qui-Gon sighed. He hadn't been pleasant company earlier. When Obi-Wan had been reluctant to clean his room before bed, Qui-Gon had raised his voice to him. They hadn't gone to bed on good terms.

He tried to make his voice sound warm. "It's okay. I was already awake. You can come in."

Obi-Wan walked slowly across the room, one of his blankets wrapped around him like a cloak. His face was slightly flecked with sweat, and his eyes were damp. "I'm sorry I made you mad tonight."

He cupped the boy's chin with one hand, looking directly in his eyes in the low light. "I'm sorry too. I had a bad day and I took it out on you. That wasn't fair of me."

Obi-Wan's lip trembled, and Qui-Gon reached down and picked him up, helping him settle in beneath the covers.

"I had a bad dream," he said, voice wavering. It had been several weeks since the boy had woken in the night with bad dreams; he'd been able to sleep in his own bed with decent regularity. Qui-Gon reached out with the Force to soothe Obi-Wan's mind, slightly concerned.

Obi-Wan lay on his side, curled towards Qui-Gon. "I can't remember now. But it was bad. And dark, and I was scared."

"Do you remember where you were in the dream?"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, his forehead wrinkling with effort. "It was at the Temple. You were sad. Everyone was sad. Something happened."

He smoothed a hand over Obi-Wan's head, tucking the blankets in more closely around his tiny form. "It's all right. You're safe now."

Obi-Wan nodded, scooting closer to Qui-Gon's warmth. "Master?"

Qui-Gon sighed, still unable to shake the memory of his conversation with Mace. "Yes?"

"Why are you upset?"

Qui-Gon was taken aback, settling back on his pillow. "Why do you think I'm upset?"

Snuggling deeper under the blankets, Obi-Wan was silent for a moment. "Because you're my Master and I know."

Qui-Gon scrubbed a hand over his face, holding back the emotions that threatened to overcome his troubled spirit. He struggled to put his thoughts into words. "Obi-Wan, even when you're very grown up and you have a Padawan of your own, you know that I'll still think of you as my Padawan, and you'll still think of me as your Master."

"Uh-huh."

"Yoda was my Master. . .and even though I'm not his Padawan anymore, I still think of him that way." Obi-Wan propped up his head on Qui-Gon's arm, and he rested his hand on the boy's head. "But something happened to Yoda today."

Obi-Wan let out a tiny gasp. "But he's Master Yoda. Did he die?"

"No. But he's very sick, and they don't know why. And that's why I'm upset."

Obi-Wan nodded seriously. "Like I was upset when you got hurt by Guod."

"Yes, like that."

A moment of silence passed between them, until finally Obi-Wan spoke quietly. "Is Master Yoda going to be okay?"

Qui-Gon blinked several times, staring into the darkness. "I don't know."

TBC