Sliding past several empty chairs, Qui-Gon wound his way through SsBobss’ dimly lit main room. He breathed in the familiar scent of kigin, burned over a contained flame on the far side of the tavern, wafting a spicy sweet aroma around the scattering of patrons. He spoke to no one, moving purposefully towards a squat, round table in the back. Easing his tall frame into one of the three seats, he absently ran his palm over the scarred surface of the table. Although it had been oiled recently, the stains from years of wet glasses and the distinctive burns from lightsabers activated by overtired padawans gave its surface an ancient look.

Around the table, four letters written in Basic indicated the owner of each seat: Q, B, P, M. Tracing his own initial slowly, Qui-Gon remembered the night he and his friends had officially named this table their own. After hours of studying for exams and not nearly enough sleep, they had decided to make their mark in the place they’d spent nearly every waking moment as padawans, other than their Masters’ presence. Qui-Gon had been the first to take his Trials, and thus had been the first to carve his name. As the other three padawans became Knights, Mace, Payter, and Bel-San had added theirs to the table, until the circle was complete.

A voice called out from behind. “Ssame as ussual, Qui-Gon?”

Swiveling in his chair to face the eight-foot tall Mrivalean, he gave the owner a quick smile. “Thanks, SsBob.”

“Not sseen you sso long. Busssy?”

“You could say that.”

SsBob blinked his four hexagonal eyes, making a clicking sound with his oversized mandible. “Ssame for friendss, yess? Ssoon sshould they ssit with you?”

“Just Payter tonight. But thank you. He’ll be along shortly, I suppose.”

SsBob nodded and reached for two large tumblers, using two of his other clawed legs to grasp several bottles behind the bar. The insectlike Mrivaleans had a language unique to their physiology, which meant those without the correct mouthparts couldn’t speak Mrivalean. SsBob had managed to learn Basic fluently in the years Qui-Gon had known him, but he had never lost his distinctive accent. No one had known the Mrivalean’s name when he took over one of the Lower Level taverns, since no one had been able to pronounce it, so he had been dubbed ‘Bob’, to which the Mrivalean had added his favored ‘s’ sound. SsBob couldn’t serve the stronger alcoholic drinks in deference to the Temple’s wishes, but what he did serve was the best inside the Temple.

SsBob’s numerous legs clicked against the floor as he delivered the drinks. “Look ssad. Ssomething I can do?”

Sipping at his drink, he savored its powerful flavor, stinging his tongue. “Not really. I’m all right. But thanks.”

“Ssuit yoursself.” SsBob moved back behind the bar, and Qui-Gon focused his attention on the tabletop once more.

He sensed a movement behind him, and he turned to see the shaggy form of Payter saunter up to his seat. “Been awhile, hasn’t it? I swear, it’s been ages since I’ve been here.”

Qui-Gon pushed over a frothy tumbler towards his friend. “Here. Ordered for you. And if you think it’s been a long time since you’ve been here.” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his chin. “I can’t even remember the last time I...no. I can. But it was a long time ago.”

Payter lifted an eyebrow, but took a drink instead of replying. Shifting his large bulk in the seat, he brushed a strip of foam from the fur around his mouth. “So where’s the little guy?”

“I gave Heri a call. She hadn’t seen him in awhile, and I figured maybe she might be available to baby-sit a hyperactive Padawan for a few hours.” Qui-Gon smiled briefly; Obi-Wan had been tearing through the apartment all afternoon, brandishing a practice ‘saber despite several of Qui-Gon’s warnings. “I have to tell you, I’m a little worried about giving him a real lightsaber. He still thinks it’s a toy.”

Payter returned his smile. “Who says it’s not?”

Rolling his eyes, Qui-Gon shook his head. “Just don’t tell Obi-Wan that.” He took another drink, eyes smarting from the fiery nature of the brew. “So I heard from Bel-San the other day.”

“Oh?”

“He had just landed on the planet. He seemed a little...scattered.”

Payter scoffed. “That’s nothing new. I only get worried when he’s got his act together.”

Qui-Gon nodded in assent. “I think he was ready for a change. This’ll be good for him.”

“Yeah, well, hopefully he’ll get his bearings quickly. You know how he always gets lost.”

“Remember when we were all on that mission, where was it...Inora? Was that it?” Qui-Gon looked up at the ceiling for a moment.

Payter slapped the tabletop. “That’s it, you’re right. When he said he knew how to get home? And we ended up in the Renaor system? How many times did we circle that moon? Three? It took us five days to make our way back to the Temple. Ugh, we had a tough time explaining that one.”

Qui-Gon chuckled, thinking of the look on Master Yoda’s face when he saw the slightly dented ship. “I am often amazed all four of us ever made it, you know?”

“Well, Bel-San almost didn’t.” Payter smirked.

“That wasn’t my fault,” Qui-Gon protested, holding up a hand.

“That’s not how he told it to me. You were the one who convinced him that it was all right to leave in the middle of his Vigil for a little off-temple excursion.”

“That is such a lie. I thought he was already done with his Vigil. Besides, he still got Knighted, what’s he complaining for?” Qui-Gon shook his head, smiling slightly. “And if I remember correctly, you were there for that one, my friend. You have no alibi.”

Payter shrugged. “Details, details.” He took a deep breath, scanning the room for a moment. “So how’s the boy? I’m still amazed you got away from him for more than two minutes at a time.”

Qui-Gon nodded. “He’s fine, but I think he really misses Bel-San. He’s been a little...quiet.”

“You said earlier he was completely hyperactive.”

“Well yes, but in a...quiet way.” Qui-Gon flicked a glance at the two empty chairs across from him. “How’s Kerge?”

Payter shrugged, licking his lips. “All things considered, I think he’s doing fine. I left him finishing his homework. And he’d better be done when I get back, or I will personally haul him out of bed to the practice rooms before the suns rise, and I’m not kidding.”

Qui-Gon chuckled. “It’s just amusing to watch you try to instill responsibility in the young.”

“Well. Someone has to do it.” Payter dropped his gaze for a moment, then spun his tumbler in his large paws. “He hasn’t been himself lately. I think he misses Bel-San too.”

Qui-Gon nodded. “Kids don’t deal well with change.”

“Yeah, that’s probably it.”

For several moments, all Qui-Gon could hear was the minute scraping of SsBob’s legs on the floor and muffled slices of conversation from the other patrons. Suddenly, he heard a laugh behind him, and he craned his neck, curious.

“You two are unbelievable.”

Payter snorted. “La-Re. What brings you here? I thought you were too upscale for SsBobss’ anymore.”

La-Re sidled up to their table, a smile playing lightly across her lips. “I’ve always been too upscale for SsBobss.” She reached over to pull out Bel-San’s chair, and Qui-Gon looked up at her.

“That’s not yours.”

“You can’t be serious. He’s not even here.” La-Re placed her hand on the chair, and Payter growled in his throat.

“Sit in Mace’s. He never shows up anyway.”

Qui-Gon fingered his glass, watching La-Re’s expression change from mocking to bemused as she slid into Mace’s usual seat. “So how are you doing?”

She propped up her chin on her upturned palm. “I just can’t believe you both.”

“What?” Payter said, taking a long drink.

La-Re shook her head. “I heard what you just said, all that about your Padawans missing Bel-San. Please!”

“What’s wrong with that? They do miss Bel-San.” Qui-Gon met her knowing gaze, his mouth set in a passive line.

Letting her chin fall to her chest as she took a deep breath, La-Re smiled. “It’s so blatantly obvious that you two miss Bel-San. Not that you would ever admit to it. But seriously, you haven’t been here for months, and now all of a sudden you’re crowded around your old table, reminiscing.” She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Your padawans miss him, that’s a good one.” Pushing up with both hands on the table, La-Re rose from her seat. “I’ll see you boys around.”

Payter rolled his eyes, giving her a wolfish grin. “Always a pleasure, La-Re.” He drained his tumbler, watching her as she moved away from their table. “I think she’s had one too many drinks.”

“No, it’s not the drinks, it’s one too many hours with the kids.” Qui-Gon grinned, pushing his glass towards the center of the table. “Speaking of, I think I should make sure Heri isn’t knee deep in six-year-old chaos. You ready to head out of here?”

Payter laughed deep in his throat, a low rumbling sound. “You know, I’ll admit it. I do miss Bel-San. It was always easy to get him to pay.”

“Yeah, he always was pretty gullible.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s for sure.”

“Yeah.”

***

“Thank you so much, Heri. You’ve been wonderful.”

“My pleasure. He’s so big now, I hardly recognize him! You’ve done such a marvelous job with him, Qui-Gon. He couldn’t say enough good things about you all evening.” Smiling gently, the diminutive Master patted a slumbering Obi-Wan on the back as he slept on the couch in her living room. “Hey there, sleepyhead, it’s time to wake up. Your Master’s here.”

Rubbing his face into the fabric of the couch, Obi-Wan blinked several times, looking up at them both. “I fell asleep,” he murmured, struggling to sit up.

Qui-Gon slipped Heri a small smile as he scooped up the boy’s tiny form into his arms. “All right. Bedtime for padawans. Thank Master Heri and say goodnight, Obi-Wan.”

“Goodnight, Obi-Wan,” the boy repeated, smiling as he blinked to stay awake.

“Oh, you’re a laugh riot.” Smoothing a hand over his Padawan’s hair, he adjusted the boy against his chest, and Obi-Wan slipped his head against Qui-Gon’s neck. He wrapped a protective arm around him to hold him in place.

A broad smile crossed Heri’s oval face, and she shook her head slightly. “You don’t know how much joy it brings me to see you two together. I see you in the Temple sometimes, the way he looks up to you, walking on your boot heels...it’s what I hope for every child I’ve ever cared for.” She folded her hands together inside her robe. “I am so glad it was you. I wouldn’t have let him leave my apartment with anyone else.”

Qui-Gon returned her smile, slightly embarrassed. “I think I know how you feel.”

He bid her a good evening, and walked out into the quiet corridor of the Temple. More than any other time, he felt the Force’s calming nature as the hours grew late. Masters and Padawans returned to their apartments, preparing for the next day. Knights moved quickly to their beds, falling into deep slumber before leaving for their next mission. His footsteps echoed dimly in the empty hallways as he passed the Creche, his senses aware of the quiet peace emanating from tiny Force-sensitives settling into sleep. He remembered three years before, weary from a mission gone awry, when he’d met Obi-Wan for the first time. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he’d gone to sleep instead of seeking out Rai in the Creche that night. Smiling slightly to himself, he pondered the uncanny ways the Force brought people together. Contented with the silence of the Temple and the warm pressure of Obi-Wan’s arms around his neck, Qui-Gon breathed a slow sigh through his mouth. He hadn’t felt such peace in a long time.

Palming the slide door to their apartment, a blinking red light shone through the penetrating darkness of their unlit common room. He stepped carefully across the floor, avoiding some of Obi-Wan’s toys, which littered the path between the door and the kitchen. As he turned on the closest hololamp to its lowest setting, he saw a text message flashing on his wall viewscreen.

Obi-Wan stirred at the sudden light, pulling away from Qui-Gon to see what had interested him. “Master? Are we home yet?”

Qui-Gon patted his back, punching in the code to retrieve the message. “We got a letter from Bel-San. You want to hear it?”

Slightly more awake, Obi-Wan nodded and turned to sit in Qui-Gon’s lap so he could read the message along with his Master.

“Hey Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon read aloud, until Obi-Wan held up a hand. “Yes?”

“Um, I wanna read it, Master.”

“Okay.” He edged his seat closer to the viewer.

“Hey Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan,” Obi-Wan read, his small finger tracing over the Basic letters and leaving a smear on the plastiglass.

“Here I am in the Cascade Mountains of Was-4. It’s very...what is that word?”

Qui-Gon frowned. “I think he meant beautiful. His spelling is atrocious.”

“What does that mean?” Obi-Wan’s forehead creased as he puzzled over Qui-Gon’s word choice.

“It means it’s a good thing I’m here to translate. Go ahead.”

“Um, okay. Very beautiful. The local people have been kind to me, and I am starting to feel more com-fort-ab-le here.” He stopped. “Is that right?”

“You’re doing great. Keep going.”

“Okay. Um, the people eat a lot of strange things here, but at least they know how to cook, Qui-Gon.” Obi-Wan laughed, taking great pleasure in calling his Master by his given name. “They don’t have many ships here, so Obi-Wan would probably be sad.” He grinned again, looking up at Qui-Gon. “He wrote my name! And I would be sad if there were no ships.”

Qui-Gon chuckled. Obi-Wan had developed a sort of fascination with his own name. He loved to see it in print. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be any sort of egotistical drive to his curiosity; Qui-Gon had recently done a simple painting of Obi-Wan’s name in colorful letters and hung it above the boy’s bed.

“I don’t have a lot of time but I wanted to let you know I am safe and doing very well here. I wish you could see it too. Take care and don’t let Mace burn down the Temple. Bel-San.” Obi-Wan eyed the last sentence critically. “I don’t get it.”

“That’s just Bel-San trying to be funny.” Qui-Gon flicked off the viewscreen, easing up from the seat with Obi-Wan in his arms.

“It wasn’t funny.”

“Well, he tried.”

Obi-Wan took a breath. “But Master Yoda says--”

“Yes. Don’t worry about what Master Yoda says right now, because it’s time for little Padawans to be asleep, remember?”

Nodding, Obi-Wan held more tightly to Qui-Gon. “I’m cold.”

Qui-Gon dropped the boy gently in the ‘fresher. “Brush your teeth and get into your pajamas, and then I’ll tuck you in, okay?”

Once finished, he helped the small boy into bed. “You getting warm yet?”

“Mm-hmm.” Obi-Wan looked up at the colorful painting above his bed, and he smiled. “O-B-I-W-A-N. That’s me.”

“Yes it is.” He pulled the covers around Obi-Wan’s tiny form, smoothing a hand over his head.

“Am I the only Obi-Wan in the whole universe?”

Qui-Gon sat down on the edge of the bed. “I can’t say for sure, but you’re the only one I know.”

“But what if Teacher Bel-San met another person named Obi-Wan and he got us confused and then he came back and didn’t know who I was?”

Trying not to smile, Qui-Gon gave his Padawan a serious nod. “I don’t think you need to worry. He won’t forget you, I can promise you that.”

“I miss him. Will he be home soon?” Obi-Wan’s voice sounded quiet in the dim lighting cast from the fish light on his desk.

Qui-Gon gave the boy’s hand a squeeze. “I know you do. I do too. But he’ll be back in a little while. Now get some sleep; it’s another big day tomorrow.”

Yawning, Obi-Wan nodded, squeezing Qui-Gon’s hand back. “Go to sleep. Masters need to sleep too.”

He smiled down at his Padawan. “You have no idea.”

***

Obi-Wan looked up from the datasheet on the table. “Master!” No reply came. “Master!” He yelled louder than before.

Finally, his Master looked up from his reading as he sat on the couch. “Obi-Wan, you don’t need to yell. I’m right here. What do you need?”

“Um, can you look at this word, because I think that it’s wrong, and I think that I need some help and you’re good at reading.” Obi-Wan offered him a smile, pointing at the datasheet.

“I’m not going to do your homework for you, Padawan.”

“I know, Master, but I don’t know what this word is and I think I really really need your help. Can you please help me?”

His Master eased off the couch and he crossed the room to stand by the table. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s this word right--” The wallcomm unit chimed, and Obi-Wan leapt out of his chair and raced towards it.

“Obi-Wan, wait a--”

“I’ll get it!”

Jumping up, he smacked the unit to engage its vocal receiver. “This is Obi-Wan Kenobi speaking.”

“Obi-Wan!” Slade’s voice came across the speaker, and Obi-Wan could tell his friend was excited. “Listen to this!”

“What?”

“Master Dermin got a call today from this Knight, Knight Rian. He said that he might want to take me as his Padawan!”

Obi-Wan blinked several times. “He wants you as a Padawan? Right now?”

“He doesn’t know everything yet, because the Council needs to talk to us or something but he thinks that we would be a good match. But then we’d both be Padawans! How cool is that?”

“That’s great, Slade! Then you could live in an apartment too and then I could come over there without Nifan and Finn always yelling at each other and Master Dermin screaming all the time.”

Slade laughed. “It’s crazy here. Knight Rian sounds really great; he came to watch me at ‘saber practice this afternoon. I would be his first Padawan.”

“Wow.”

“So I just wanted to tell you. I’m going to meet him again tonight and then we’re supposed to go talk to the Council tomorrow.”

“That’s good.”

“So I’ll see you in class tomorrow. G’night!”

“Yeah, you too.” Obi-Wan stood in front of the wall unit, feeling slightly confused. He knew that being taken as a Padawan was a good thing, and he was happy for Slade, but somehow, he thought he should feel happier.

His Master stood behind him, reaching out to shut off the unit. “That’s pretty exciting news for Slade.”

Obi-Wan turned to face his Master, tugging on the long sleeves of his tunic. “Yeah, that’s good.”

“You don’t look very happy, though.”

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan blew all the air out of his mouth. “It’s fine,” he shrugged.

His Master crossed his arms over his chest. “You know you can tell me what you really think, and you know I won’t tell Slade, right?”

Obi-Wan felt his Master send him a slight wave of encouragement through their bond, and Obi-Wan sighed. “I know. I am happy for Slade, because I want him to be a Jedi too and so he needs to be somebody’s Padawan. But...” He stopped, looking down at the floor. “I don’t want him to go away all the time like Knight Alla and Keleran do. He’s my friend and I don’t want him to leave.”

“Just because he becomes a Padawan doesn’t mean he’s going to leave, Little One. Slade will go on missions with his Master, just like you and I will when you get older, but he’ll always come home and you will still be friends.” His Master lifted his chin, and he looked up into his Master’s kind blue eyes. “Don’t worry about things not yet decided. Besides, Payter, Mace, Bel-San and I were all Padawans together, and we saw each other all the time.”

Obi-Wan gave his Master a tiny smile. “That’s because you were always in trouble and you weren’t allowed to leave the Temple.”

Rolling his eyes, his Master steered him back towards the table and his homework. “If it will make you feel any better, I’ll see if I can chat with Knight Rian a little.”

“Okay.” Obi-Wan still felt slightly disturbed by the sudden news, but he trusted his Master. He knew his Master wouldn’t let anything happen to his friends. “So what is this word here?”

“This word? Well, sound it out.”

“Ch. Chhh. Ar. Arrr. D. Ddd. Ch-arrr-dd. Charred. What does that mean?”

“It means burned beyond recognition.”

Obi-Wan collapsed into laughter, grinning up at his Master. “Like our dinner.”

“Obi-Wan, our dinner was not charred. Just well done.”

“Charred. I need to use the word in a sentence.” He typed in the Basic letters into his datapad. “My Master made dinner tonight and it was charred.”

“That’s not funny. And it’s not true.”

Obi-Wan bit his lip, thinking for a moment. “Okay.” He resumed his place at the keyboard again. “I don’t like to eat charred food, so I’m going to learn how to cook.”

“Oh, you think you’re so funny. You didn’t have to eat Yoda’s cooking.”

“Why? Was it charred?”

His Master’s face suddenly lost its calm expression as the tall man burst into a fit of laughter. “I need to get you a dictionary.”

Obi-Wan grinned, pleased with the new game. “Why? So it can be charred?”

“And a thesaurus too.”