Rated G
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns all the recognizable characters. Anareal is mine. ( pronounced Ah - NAR -ee- al, an African name meaning strength and peace) Making no money off this and if I was I'd spend it all on Star Wars stuff and George and would get it anyway.
Hot water jetted down, bringing with it a sigh of contentment. To say it had been a long day was an understatement. It had begun with Anareal’s training and been followed by excursions into Coruscant. First the museum, where she had darted like quicksilver from one thing to another until he had despaired of her ever learning anything. But in the air-taxi on the way to the zoo she had repeated nearly everything she had seen and quoted what he had said almost verbatim.
Then she had launched into her version of ‘Twenty Questions’, which was more like ‘Twenty Thousand Questions’, until they reached the zoo. The animals had held her attention longer than the museum displays, though she had been very frustrated by not being able to touch them. He had persuaded her to sit under a tree to eat the dinner he got them. Well, he had sat under the tree. She had skipped around in the grass, stopping briefly to eat mouthfuls of food around more questions and observations. He would never again under-estimate the energy of a six year old.
Then the air-taxi home, where she had finally put her head down in his lap and fallen promptly to sleep, which allowed her to recharge. He had relaxed into the Force about as well as one could in an air-taxi on Coruscant, trying to recharging himself in anticipation. It had taken 4 bedtime stories to make her relax again enough to sleep.
Ten minutes ago, he had put her to bed, kissed her forehead while magically settling blankets over her small frame and crept quietly from her room. Now all he wanted was a long, hot shower, an even longer period of meditation and his own sleeping-couch.
He was reaching for the soap when he heard the almost timid knock on the door.
“Master?”
It took all his strength and judicious use of the Force not to pretend he wasn’t there.
“ Yes, Anareal?”
“ I heard a noise.”
“ What kind of noise?”
“ Like something’s moving in the hallway outside.”
He tested her Force-presence. She was obviously disturbed, but not really frightened.
“ There’s nothing in the hallway, Anareal. This is the Temple. Go back to bed.”
“ Will you go look?”
“ I can’t right at the moment,” he paused to rake his fingers through his hair to get it off his face, “ But the Force tells me nothing is out there.”
“ But I feel something,” she insisted, “ Can I come in there?”
“ NO,” he said it a bit too sharply. He wasn’t quite prepared for the round of Twenty Questions that could be brought on by allowing her to see him in the shower. He took a deep breath to calm himself, “ What is it you feel?”
“ I don’t know,” pause, “ Just something. Something strange. Not from the Temple.”
He did another quick check of the surrounding ripples in the Force. “ Anareal, I don’t sense anything.”
“ What if whatever it is has an ysalmiri with them. Then you wouldn’t be able to sense anything,” she reasoned.
Qui-Gon put his arm on the shower wall and leaned his head on it, letting the water beat on his shoulders.
“ But neither would you,” he responded. He was getting a bit tired of having to talk over the running water and through the door. “ There would be a blank spot in the Force. I would be able to detect that.”
“ What?”
“ Nothing.”
There was a moment of silence in which he half hoped she had gone back to bed, but could tell by the proximity of her Force-presence that she was still outside the door.
“ What if they’re using a mind- trick on you and that’s why you can’t feel anything,” she said.
“ Mind-tricks don’t work on Jedi Masters,” he replied.
“ Oh,” followed by another pause, “ What if it’s an assassin droid? They don’t have a presence in the Force. It could be an assassin droid.”
Qui-Gon realized suddenly that he had both his hands clenched into fists. With great patience, he said, “ Anareal, there is not an assassin droid in the hallway. Why don’t you get my robe and go lay down on my bed until I’m done.”
“ I can’t,” she answered.
“ Why?”
“ Your robe is in there with you. Can I come get it?”
“ No,” he responded immediately, “ Anareal … “
“Master! I heard it again,” she interrupted in a harsh whisper.
Qui-Gon didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“ Can you give me 5 minutes to finish?” he asked.
“ Two?” she said, hopefully.
“ Three,” he said, sternly.
“ Yes, Master,” it was her timid voice again.
Qui-Gon allowed himself one silent growl of frustration as he reached once more for the soap.
“ I could get killed by an assassin droid by the time you get out, you know,” she said.
“ You aren’t going to get killed by an assassin droid,” he said, lathering as quickly as he could and starting to rinse. To himself he added, if anyone is going to kill you tonight it’s going to be me.
He shut off the water and called a towel to his hand.
“ Master? It’s been 3 minutes.”
“ I know,” he said, patiently. He pulled on the clothes he slept in over still-damp skin, briefly rubbed the wet towel through his hair and opened the door.
Anareal was standing against the opposite wall, looking up at him wide-eyed and solemn.
Qui-Gon braced his feet and put his curled fists on his hips.
“ Anareal, am I going to get any privacy tonight?” he asked, sternly.
She folded her arms across her chest and replied with complete sincerity, “ Apparently not.”
Qui-Gon dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands to keep from laughing.
“ Will you check the hall now?” she asked.
Qui-Gon sighed and let his tension melt away. “ Yes, come on.”
He strode down the hall, his hair dripping into his shirt and Anareal glued to his heels.
“ Do you want me to get your lightsabre?” she asked.
“ I don’t need my light sabre to check the hall,” he assured her, “ My senses tell me that there isn’t anything dangerous in the hallway.”
Qui-Gon opened their front door and leaned out into the hall. Anareal stood behind him and peeked out around his leg. He looked up and down in both directions.
“ See? Empty. Nothing is out here.”
She slipped around to stand next to him, inspecting the deserted hallway with grave confusion.
Then they both heard a small sound, a tiny squeak. Anareal jumped and pressed up against him. Automatically, he touched his fingers to her shoulder to calm her while narrowing his focus.
Moving down the hall he stopped and crouched by one of the potted plants. Brushing aside the thick foliage, he reached in ….
… and pulled out the tiniest felinx kitten he had ever seen.
Anareal’s anxiety evaporated. With a cry of sheer delight she took it from him. It immediately began to wail, clutching at her sleepshirt with tiny claws, ears held sideways, eyes wide.
“ Oh, poor kitty,” she murmured,” poor sweet kitty.”
Qui-Gon put his hand on the bit of fluff that it was and the loud mewling stopped.
“ Let’s go back inside,” he said. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable about being in the hall in his shorts and sleep shirt, barefoot and dripping.
Anareal followed him, cradling the kitten close, murmuring soothing endearments. Qui-Gon closed and locked the door and then turned to regard his apprentice. She had plopped down in the middle of the floor with the kitten in her lap like a found treasure. It was a pretty little thing, really, with cocoa colored stripes and swirls on a background of silvered taupe. Its wide green eyes reminded him uncomfortably of someone else’s.
He crouched down in front of her and she looked up at him, her green eyes shimmering with bliss.
“ Not exactly an assassin droid,” he commented.
She laughed, but then frowned at him. “ I did hear something,” she insisted,” And I did feel something. I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“ I never said you had,” he assured her, “ I think what you heard was someone leaving this little thing out there in the hall."
She inhaled sharply. “ Why? Why would someone leave it all alone?”
He sat down next to her and reached over to scratch the kitten’s ear, rewarded immediately with a rumbling purr. He could have held two of them its size in one hand.
“ Maybe they couldn’t take care of it any more,” Qui-Gon said. It was the kindest explanation he could think of and the only one he would give her.
“ We can, can’t we?” she asked, hopefully.
She felt the small ripple of his hesitation. “ Please? Please, Master. I’ll take care it, I promise. You know I keep my promises. I’ve learned everything you’ve taught me and I’ve never lied to you. Please?”
“ What about if we get sent away by the Council?” he asked. “Who will care for it then?”
“ Master Gardener comes to take care of the plants and the fish. He won’t mind a kitten. We could ask him, or another Knight, or one of the apprentices. Please, Master.”
Light, I hate it when she looks at me like that, he thought. Out loud he said, “ All right. We can keep it.”
He knew the choke-hold hug was coming. It took her about a half a second longer than usual because she had to scoop the kitten out of her lap first. With her arms tight around his neck, slight frame pressed against him in trust and gratitude, he somehow didn’t mind the fact that he had soap dried in his ear and hair dripping down his back.
“ Thank you, Master,” she whispered.
“ You’re welcome, “ he said back.
She dropped back down onto the floor. “ I wonder if it’s a boy or a girl,” she said.
“ Here. Let me see.” He picked it up and turned it over, pushed some fluff out of the way and said, “ It’s a girl.”
Anareal peered closely but the kitten flipped back over with a squeak.
“ How can you tell? Is it written on the bottom?” she asked.
Qui-Gon almost choked laughing. “ No,” he said, finally.
“ Then how can you tell?” she asked, trying unsuccessfully to turn the kitten back over.
“ Let her be, Anareal,” he said “ I’ll tell you later. When you’re older.”
“ How old?” she asked.
“ Twelve,” he said.
“ Nine.”
“ Twelve,” he repeated. That seemed early enough to begin sex education.
Anareal sighed in exaggerated despair. “ Okay.” Pause, “ I think she’s hungry. I’m hungry too.”
It was his turn to sigh, though his despair was not entirely exaggerated. Later, with a saucer of shredded fish in front of the felinx and a plate of cookies in front of Anareal, she announced, “ Miri. I’m going to call her Miri.”
“ Why?”
“ It’s short for ysalmiri, because you couldn’t sense her right away. Why was that, Master?”Qui-Gon considered her question carefully. “ I think she was being masked by the plant. You kept insisting there was something big out there. I didn’t find her until I narrowed my focus.” He reached down and scooped Miri up just before she tried to climb up his leg. “ You need to go back to bed. Are you finished?” She nodded. “ Clean up your plate and brush your teeth again.”
She took Miri from him after rinsing her plate and then skipped out of the kitchen to the ‘fresher. He waited outside the door until she reappeared.
“ You’d never let me leave a mess like that in there,” she commented, pointing back over her shoulder at the ‘fresher.
“ I was in a hurry. You were in danger from an assassin droid, remember?”
She grinned at him, Miri tucked under her chin. For the second time that night he tucked her into bed, kissed her forehead, added scratching Miri on the ear, and started to leave her room.
“ Master?”
“Yes?”
“ There really could have been an assassin droid, you know.”
Qui-Gon regarded her, his expression completely bemused.
“Good night, Padawan,” he said, softly
.