ARRIVALS & DEPARTURES
by nermal

A sequel to HOME ENOUGH

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. . . .

- - - - -

Ten years after the discovery of the Sith on Naboo,
dark days have descended upon the Republic.
Conquering worlds and taking over the Senate,
Supreme Chancellor Palpatine and his supporters
are rapidly transforming the galaxy into an empire.
The latest world to bow to his influence has been Coruscant.

The Jedi Order has sided with the Republic,
sending its members to temporary military bases
and temples throughout the galaxy. At the base on Chionos,
following the hasty knighting of his fourth padawan,
Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn awaits his bondmate,
General Kenobi of Fleet Command.

- - - - -

For eight out of fourteen months snow fell on the planet Chionos. Light at first, it gradually became thicker, then settled into a constant blur of white as flurries fell on the packed ice that covered the planet. By mid season, save at sunrise and sunset, the sky and ground were indistinguishable. Even the horizon blended into the endless stretch of grayish-white. It seemed so peaceful.

Perhaps that was because, even with macrobinoculars, one couldn't see the battles that were fought in space above planets like Chionos. Battles that Qui-Gon wished were even farther away. Battles that had taken his bondmate half a galaxy away from him and that would soon take his last padawan away. Although Obi-Wan was to arrive on Chionos, Anakin was set to leave as soon as Starfighter Command's ships were ready. One padawan in each branch of the Republic's military and he was left... Well, home wasn't the right word for it. Neither was behind. Qui-Gon would continue to fulfill diplomatic duties for the Republic. And wait. Wait for Obi-Wan to come home, wait for the wars to be over. As long as he had to.

Qui-Gon stepped away from the viewport and tucked his hands into his sleeves. He shivered, as he had been doing for the past half-hour as he stood in the corridor, and drew his arms closer to his body. The large, pre-fab military building had not felt unusually cold when he first arrived four days ago. Qui-Gon had been occupied with organizing his and Anakin's affairs, keeping up with the constant stream of news and trying to get in touch with Obi-Wan. By the end of the first day, the beginnings of a cold hovered at the edge of his senses. The next morning he awoke to a painfully sore throat, runny nose and the drudgery of sifting through a pile of datacards that detailed the finer points of military protocol on Chionos.

It was an inconvenient cold, to say the least. Qui-Gon didn't have the time to convalesce. He simply kept pushing the illness back, dividing his energy between healing himself and keeping up with the readjustment to life on Chionos. The military base differed from the Temple in a little hundred ways, including meal times, security procedures and chain of command. All the little things added up to what, despite time spent in a healing trance, became a confusing and endless task in the face of illness. At the end of the third day on Chionos, Qui-Gon had to ask Anakin for assistance. The sneezing, coughing and congestion that hampered his breathing had exhausted Qui-Gon during the day and prevented him from sleeping at night. The faint Force suggestion Anakin had used on him afforded Qui-Gon a few hours rest.

"Master?" Quiet footsteps approached from behind Qui-Gon. "What are you doing up so early?"

Comparing to the glaring white of the outside, the rest of the hallway was dim, as if shadows clung to the walls. Anakin, although dressed, walked to Qui-Gon with sleep still in his eyes and his hair tousled from bed. Except for his blond hair and blue eyes, he was dark, the shadows in the corridor blotting him out. Qui-Gon blinked his eyes rapidly, forcing himself to adjust to the change in light.

"I couldn't sleep anymore."

The words came out a little more hoarse than Qui-Gon intended. Bringing his first to his mouth, he coughed out the tickle that crept through the back of his throat. With the fist held to his face Qui-Gon paused, inhaled carefully, then held the breath. The tickle continued to itch its way up his throat and the roof of his mouth, into his nose. Yes, that was definitely a sneeze coming on. Qui-Gon dropped his hand a few inches from his face. He felt his own breath, warm, quick puffs of air, as the sneeze built up.

"uh... Huh! Ehh! EehHepTUSHH!" Make that sneezes. The sensation had become a burning in the nose and throat, coaxing him forward with another round of hitching breaths. "IhhhESHHooo! Ehh, Keshhoo! EhKeshh! K'Shhooo... huh uhhhuhh... HuhSHHHahh!"

Qui-Gon tested the situation with a touch to the tip of his nose with his knuckle. Still a little sensitive, the burning had not worked its way out yet. The pressure at the back of his sinuses indicated another sneeze or so still lingered.

"Bless." Anakin replied without enthusiasm. "Couldn't, or wouldn't, Qui-Gon?"

"A little bit of both, most likely." He replied, then turned away as the tickle acted up again. "EhhKESHHuhh... Heh! Uhhshhoo!!"

When Qui-Gon opened his eyes again, he saw the smile of anxious exasperation on Anakin's face. Neither of them expected him to actually answer the question any better than that. He had slept most of the night; that was enough. Even if Qui-Gon had wanted to sleep longer, the quickly increasingly frequent sneezing and worsening congestion would have prevented him.

"Well, since we're both up now," Anakin put his hand on Qui-Gon's arm, "let's go get something to eat. Are you hungry?"

Qui-Gon coughed again, more harshly and painfully this time, and felt the pressure build up in both his head and chest with each expulsion of breath. He felt Anakin's grip on his arm tighten and prevent the faltering of his steps.

"Should I take that as a 'no'?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. He had to wait until his breath eased back to normal, and then take care of the tears that ran from his eyes, but he finally turned to Anakin. His first response came out in a choked, garbled whisper. Clearing his throat and swallowing thickly, Qui-Gon pushed the congestion in his throat down.

"No, I'll have some tea at least." Qui-Gon answered. His nose was starting to run too, his watery eyes having set up a tingling that spread to his nasal passages.

"All right." They walked a few steps and then Anakin halted. He squeezed Qui-Gon's arm through his cloak. "Are you sure you're up to a trip to the refractory, Master? I could just bring you back something to drink, eat, whatever." He started to nudge Qui-Gon in the direction of his rooms.

"Anakin, I'll be fine." Disguising a sniffle, Qui-Gon pressed the sleeve of his tunic to the base of his nose.

"But then you could rest some more." The protest was evident in Anakin's voice.

"Anakin," another sniffle, "I'll be fine." And an attempt to clear his throat quietly. While sounding stern. Qui-Gon sighed. His eyes had adjusted to the light in the corridors, gloomy in contrast to the white light that reflecting off the bright snows. Or maybe it was just the sick, dim feeling inside his head.

Anakin looked at him skeptically, but once again headed toward the refractory. Clearly still tired, the young man kept quiet for most of the walk. On the one hand, Qui-Gon welcomed the silence. Talking irritated an already raw throat, or aggravated the tickle he couldn't seem to get out of his chest. Practically every word he had uttered this morning had sent him into paroxysms of coughing. The act made it impossible for Qui-Gon to ignore the other symptoms he suffered from. He could almost forget about the ache or fogginess that clouded his head, but even a few coughs made him dizzy with pain. As long as he walked along, slowly, steadily, Qui-Gon would be fine until he and Anakin made it to refractory. It was easier to convince Anakin than Obi-Wan that he felt all right. Especially now that one swift cut had severed both the waist length golden braid and also the training bond that he had with Anakin.

On the other hand, the frequent sniffles, snorts and throat clearings were much too evident in the early morning quiet of the hallways. Training bond or no training bond, Anakin was neither stupid nor unobservant. Every few minutes he cast a sidelong glance at Qui-Gon and caught him mid-sniffle a few more times than Qui-Gon would have preferred. Pressing his nose into his sleeve hadn't helped, nor had ignoring the problem. Qui-Gon pulled out a handkerchief with resignation and held it to his nose. It was running enough to be a problem, but the congestion hadn't eased to allow him to get rid of the sniffles. Every time he breathed in wetly, his nostrils tickled slightly, the feeling echoed at the back of his sinuses. Drawing a deeper breath through his mouth, Qui-Gon held the handkerchief more tightly to his face.

"EhhHEHChfff!! HehCHshhhuh! ehhhKhCshhhooshh!! Hushhhahshh!!" More throat burning, and a harsh cough, before his stomach clenched with another fit of sneezes. "ESHhahh!! Keshh! Ehh KihSHH!! huhhuh! HUH! Chuhshh!!" Qui-Gon took a few steps, only after he did so realizing that Anakin had led him away from the center of the hallway. He leaned against the wall and into the support of Anakin's arm around his shoulders. "Hushhahhsh! IhhISHHOO! SHOO! Huh! ahh... ahh, oh." His breath finally keeping up with the sneezes, Qui-Gon gave his nose a hard, strong blow before they returned. Partial clearing of the congestion afforded him some relief, but only with the trade off of ear-popping pressure.

"Bless you, Qui-Gon." Anakin's face crumpled into a frown of dismay as he watched Qui-Gon wipe his nose.

"It's not that bad, Anakin." He tried for a hopeful, albeit rather watery, smile.

"No, it's worse. Obi-Wan is going to kill me once he sees you." With an ever more depressed frown, Anakin led Qui-Gon into the main dining room.

The refractory was filled with the same quiet as the hallways. After a few reassuring words and an outward show of strength, Qui-Gon sent a less dejected Anakin for breakfast and took advantage of that peacefulness.

A few of the other Jedi who were staying at Chionos ate silently, along with assorted officers and soldiers who had just come off night duty. The atmosphere was more relaxed, although the same cautious worry that Qui-Gon sensed around the base was present here, too. Relaxing himself, however, was a different matter. The chairs in the refractory were plain, hardback ones that did little to ease the ache in Qui-Gon's back and shoulders. While he was more comfortable sitting than walking, it took every ounce of control Qui-Gon had left not to slouch down in the chair. Qui-Gon placed both elbows on the table to lean on and reached a hand behind his neck. The muscles were knotted even to his own touch, which did little to soften them. He would need Obi-Wan for that.

The thought of his bondmate sent a fresh wave of tension through Qui-Gon. He dropped his hand and held his wrist to his nose. Obi-Wan would be home soon, that much he could sense. How soon, or how far away his bondmate was, Qui-Gon was not able to judge. Obi-Wan insisted on keeping their bond muted; he could be as close as the next system or as far away as Kessel. While Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan was being sensible, he would have taken on any amount of emotional stress through their bond for Obi-Wan. As long as his bondmate didn't have to take on his. Another reason, Qui-Gon thought as he held his wrist more firmly to his nose as it started to run again, why it pained him to continually be thinking why he needed Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan surely did not need to end this tour of duty by coming home to a mate who had been reduced to a runny nosed, aching, sneezing, tired (but not quite able to sleep) mess.

Another pang of regret sprang up inside Qui-Gon, but before he could dwell on it any longer, the little sniffle grew to fill his whole nose. He was going to have to either sneeze or blow his nose very soon. The second Qui-Gon took for deliberation was just a second too long.

"EhhCHSHH!! EhhCHHuh...HehSHOO!!" Holding the sneezes in against his wrist proved harder than Qui-Gon had thought. "EhhHishhah! Ehshh-UhESHHChoo!!" The urge to keep sneezing died down just enough to allow Qui-Gon to turn his face into a cupped hand. Facing away from the table and bending at the waist he caught the next sneeze just in time. "Huh!Ushhoo!! Ehehhh-SHOO!! EhhYISHH! IhshhAHH!" Qui-Gon's nose was already streaming, warm against his fingers. "HISHHheeeh!! Ahhh, hhhuhh, hahhahAHShoooh!" He fumbled for his handkerchief, distracted by the wavering breaths and still present need to sneeze. A hand touched Qui-Gon's shoulder and he curled away from the contact.

"Master?" A tray clattered to the table behind him.

"EhhKhSSHH!! Chushhoosh!" He could get this under control, he just needed a few more seconds, and the handkerchief.

"Master? Here, Master." Anakin forced a pile of paper napkins into his hand before Qui-Gon could wave him away.

But the napkins were dry, clean and good enough. His nose couldn't seem to get rid of the itch; he really had to blow it at this point.

"EhhHEHEhshh! KuhChhhshh!! Heshhuh! huh...ISHHH!!" Still curled in on himself, Qui-Gon blew his nose as much as he was able and the napkins would hold. He wiped his nose on the damp, crumpled mass of rough paper tissue. His nose was going to be sore for a while afterwards, the remaining sniffles making it feel more raw than it probably was. Another light touch to Qui-Gon's shoulder made him look up. This time, an unfurled handkerchief was held before him, which he took with a grateful nod. The hand rested on his shoulder as he gave another quick, stuffy blow.

"Better, Master?" That was most definitely not Anakin.

Qui-Gon would have turned around. But the feeling of absolute warmth and relief that washed over him made his breath catch again. Familiar, simple, all-encompassing warmth this is what he had been waiting for.

"Obi-Wan."

"Yes, love." Obi-Wan's hand squeezed his shoulder hard, then slid down the front of his chest until soft lips touched his ear. "I'm home."

Ticklish and light, Obi-Wan's breath fluttered over his ear with a quiet kiss. With his hand still resting on Qui-Gon's chest Obi-Wan took a few quick steps and stood before Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan was ever as Qui-Gon remembered him -- handsome, proud, with beautiful light blue-gray eyes and a calm smile on his lips. The shoulder length hair, few days beard growth and fitted dark blue uniform looked strange, especially matched with the saber at Obi-Wan's hip. But the affection and love that radiated across their bond had suffered no change.

Qui-Gon stopped the tightness in his throat that threatened and placed his hand over Obi-Wan's. There was so much comfort and ease in that small physical connection. He wouldn't demand more from Obi-Wan, even being ill, if he could help it. Qui-Gon would rather give back that same assurance and love.

"I've missed you so much, Obi-Wan. It almost feels too good to see you again." Qui-Gon coughed, unable to keep the hoarseness and congestion out of his voice.

Obi-Wan frowned quickly, then leaned in toward him with a sweet sad smile. "Oh, my love. This is the only good part of going away." Obi-Wan pressed his lips firmly to Qui-Gon's. He let them linger long after the kiss ended and his breath trembled against Qui-Gon's mouth.

// Coming home? // Qui-Gon smoothed the hair back from the side of Obi-Wan's face.

// Yes. // Sighing, Obi-Wan caressed his lips once more. When he drew away, a concern creased his brow and made his eyes darken. Qui-Gon caught a thread of worry from his bondmate as Obi-Wan tested his forehead with his lips.

// You're ill. //

// Not very, just a head cold. // A most ill-timed tickle in his nose cut his response short. Qui-Gon jerked his head away from Obi-Wan. Bad enough for his bondmate to worry over him, worse yet if Obi-Wan caught this cold. He had expected to counter Obi-Wan's statement more fully, but the overwhelming sensation of his nose dripping regardless of the congestion forestalled him. He raised his head from the handkerchief twice, only to bring it back down again. The quivering urge to sneeze kept it there the second time.

"EhhKih!Sshhh!! HuhChffft!" The partially contained sneezes clogged his nose. Straightaway the need to clear the stuffiness tingled through to his sinuses. "Hehh, ChshhhIHH!! EhhSHOO!"

"Bless you." Anakin and Obi-Wan said, not quite together. He acknowledged them with a shaky wave.

"Ehhh HuhKUSHhuh!! ChshhSHOOO!! Ehuhhshhah!! ahhahh, ohhh." Qui-Gon was dimly aware of Obi-Wan stroking his hand and the scrape of a chair on the smooth floor. He held the now wet, balled up handkerchief to his nose. "EhhhHUHSHH!! KishhSHOO! Ehhhshuh!!"

He waited a moment, the ache in his limbs and head exacerbated by the violent sneezes. Obi-Wan leaned down slowly next to him in the space where a chair had been, his hand shifting to settle at Qui-Gon's elbow. When Qui-Gon lifted his head, Obi-Wan hugged him. A subtle, quick gesture that ended with a kiss to his temple.

"Blessings." Obi-Wan's lips lingered at the side of his head for a moment. // Oh, gods, you're so sick. All right, love? That sounded painful. //

// A little bit, yes. // Qui-Gon blew his nose loudly into the handkerchief. // But I needed that. //

// That's not all you need. //

Obi-Wan stood up sharply, his frown deepening. He put his arm around Qui-Gon's shoulders and began to rub his back. When Qui-Gon had finished clearing his nose, Obi-Wan kissed the top of his head. He glanced down at Qui-Gon then directed his gaze towards Anakin. The younger man stood a few paces away, alternately shuffling his boots and staring down nervously at them.

"Could you show me where his rooms are? And carry the tray back there? He'll need the tea." Gripping Qui-Gon's shoulders more firmly, he urged him up from the seat. "Come, love, I want you back in bed."

Too much worry resided both in Obi-Wan's words and emotions. Qui-Gon sensed it even in his bondmate's touch. Obi-Wan hovered over him, an expectant and anxious look on his face; Anakin still appeared more nervous than usual, tray balanced in his hands and his eyes darting from Obi-Wan to his master. As for Qui-Gon, his feelings were uncertain. He would rather like to curl up in bed with Obi-Wan there to warm him, but yet, his bondmate had just returned. Obi-Wan must have better things to do than watch him sneeze and blow his nose.

// We don't have to leave quite yet, Obi. You've only just arrived on Chionos. //

// Hush, you're ill and should be taking it easy. And you're not the only one who could use a rest just about now. //

Of course. The heavy weight of guilt crushed Qui-Gon's stomach. Obi-Wan probably had stayed awake during the trip to Chionos. The difference between the ship's time -- most likely Coruscant Standard -- and that of Chionos was enough to throw off his inner balance. Qui-Gon rose from the table uneasily. He was selfish, needy, when he ought to be supportive. It was just easy too soak up the comfort of Obi-Wan's presence when he didn't feel well.

// My heart, you are not being selfish. //

"Anakin?" Obi-Wan gestured toward the exit with a curt nod of his head.

The walk back to his rooms, though separated only by a short space of time from the trip to the refractory, was rather different from the one he and Anakin took before. A few more people were scattered through the halls, completely taking away the serene emptiness of the very early hours. The cold, white light that earlier had flashed off the clean snow had mellowed and left behind its blinding brightness as the warm light of daytime approached. Qui-Gon pinched the bridge of nose wearily. Perhaps he had spent too much time staring into the light this morning; it couldn't have changed that much since he had left his spot at the viewport.

Sniffling strongly, Qui-Gon crinkled his nose against the tickling inside. Several times he deliberately let the catch in his chest expand into a series of hacking coughs. The fits nearly took his breath away, but did keep the ticklish itch in his nose at bay. The solution was both exhausting and temporary. Finally, he cupped his hand over his mouth, index finger resting just under his nostrils.

"EhhhKISHHah! KehTCHOO!" He held his finger to his nose, let the feeling build up again, then brought his face to his arm. "HuhhESSHH! Ehhshhh, EhEashhooh!! HehpTeshhuh! USHHOOSH!" Bent over and facing away from Obi-Wan, he sneezed wetly into the sleeve of his cloak. Qui-Gon remained that way for a few seconds, tense and sniffly.

"Blessings." Obi-Wan kissed his shoulder as Qui-Gon dug out the soggy lump of a handkerchief. Both his own and the one Obi-Wan had given him were fast becoming useless. "Poor love, I'll make sure you get some tissues and hankies, all right?" Another few kisses and a hug as he roughly wiped his nose.

"Thank you." Snuffling without much of an effect, he let Obi-Wan take his arm.

"You're welcome."

Yet, enough had changed. Anakin walked ahead of them, stopping only when Qui-Gon was too overcome with a coughing or sneezing fit to continue. Obi-Wan kept close to Qui-Gon's side, his arm tucked tightly into his bondmate's. Instead of the cold loneliness that Qui-Gon felt before there were strength and love. Beyond the satisfaction of having his bondmate back and the tired disorientation of being sick, Qui-Gon sensed that Obi-Wan still held a few shields in place. The barrier was enough to make him send a wave of curiosity to his bondmate.

Obi-Wan gave him an 'ask me later' look. He clamped his arm tighter around Qui-Gon, answering the curiosity with warm reassurance. The effect was that of soothing light inside Qui-Gon. He eased further into the embrace; Obi-Wan felt safe and comfortable next to him. Qui-Gon smothered a tremendous yawn.

"You're getting tired?" Obi-Wan asked with worried care.

"No, I'm fine just a little -- " The next yawn was harder to suppress, as were the sniffles that followed.

"Tired? Right, love. Is the walk much longer?"

"It's not so bad, Obi-huhh! Oooh- hehh!KISHHH! KeshhUHH!" Sudden and powerful, the sneezes came on. He pressed the wad of material to his nose, nostrils red and flaring at the touch. "EhhKshhht! HuhpTushuh!"

Qui-Gon's face froze painfully at the last sneeze. He clutched the handkerchief in the palm of his hand and forced himself to contain the sneezes as best he could.

"Ihhh-CH!ahh.. ehhhih mmp!Chhshh!" The pained tension remained even after the sneezes ended. Qui-Gon wiped his nose and upper lip, not bothering to unfold the handkerchief.

"Bless you," Anakin said over his shoulder then stopped. "Everything all right, Master?"

"Fine, Anakin." Qui-Gon shushed Obi-Wan and ignored the patent disbelief in Anakin's eyes.

Without anything save his sleeve to wipe them one, Qui-Gon's eyes and nose streamed unchecked. The rough material of his cloak made both of them smart, especially the soreness around his nostrils. He sniffled into his tunic cuff, but that was already cold with dampness. By the time they arrived at Qui-Gon's door, he couldn't keep the sting out of his eyes and nose any longer. He chose damp coldness over the harsh weave of his cloak against his nose.

"

EhhChffftt!! HehhChshhh!! Chschhuhh!!" Qui-Gon lowered his arm as Obi-Wan untangled their fingers. "Excuse me."

"Mmm... Blessings, love." Obi-Wan pressed one hand to his lower back and reached around with the other. "Key card?"

Shaking his head, Qui-Gon pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just retinal scan It's heh... EhhKISHH!! IhhSHHshoo!! ... huh... "

"Bless you!" Obi-Wan's hand rubbed up and down in small movements on his back. "What is it, Qui? I want to get you inside."

"Programmed to give you access. Anakin knows huhh, how" Qui-Gon spoke with wavering breaths. "Huhh... ihhISHHahhh!!"

Forced to mop his nose and sniffle wetly into his sleeve, Qui-Gon let out a frustrated grunt. The access beep sounded and door slid open as Anakin force-floated the tray in the air. He pulled a handkerchief from his tunics, snapping it open before handing it to Qui-Gon.

"Bless you." Anakin rolled his eyes as Qui-Gon stared at both him and the handkerchief, slightly dazed. "You think you didn't teach me anything? Here, really, Master, all you had to do was ask."

Qui-Gon accepted the cloth and stood before the open door unmoving. Handkerchief at the ready, he expected another sneeze to come, but his nose refused to let the tingling get any greater. Qui-Gon pinched his nostrils through the cloth. It was coming, just not yet.

Anakin followed the tray into the room. Obi-Wan fingered Qui-Gon's sleeve as he stood there, near frozen and concentrating on the achy, sneezey feeling. The expectant look on Obi-Wan's face drifted into a smile. He indicated the doorway with a nod, long hair falling over his forehead. Qui-Gon couldn't remember his hair being so long. He watched, captivated, as Obi-Wan pushed the bangs off his face with one finger. That, and the heavy feeling in his head made him want to stay put, maybe slump against the wall. Only when Obi-Wan pushed him harder toward the door did he start walking. Obi-Wan stroked Qui-Gon's back as they walked into the chamber, then faced Anakin as the door slid shut.

Obi-Wan spoke shortly and surveyed the small room, "Just put that on the desk I guess." He heaved a sigh, then took Qui-Gon's hand back in his own.

They walked the few steps to the bed, Qui-Gon wiping his eyes and nose in the clean handkerchief. Obi-Wan remained standing, but eased Qui-Gon down onto the bed and stroked his hair gently.

Qui-Gon placed his arm around Obi-Wan's waist, then thought better of it as his nose seized up with the tickles again. He brought the handkerchief to his nose and hunched away from Obi-Wan.

"HISHHHihh! EhhhSHOO! K'CHSH, KeshhSchoo!!" The congested ache was back in his head, but the tickle was gone for now. Qui-Gon let out a short, hard sigh and wiped his eyes and nose once again.

"Bless you. You should have been in bed, not walking around drafty corridors or sitting in cold mess halls, talking to men in uniform."

Obi-Wan moved in near to Qui-Gon and shifted his attention to Anakin, who was skulking in a corner beside the desk. Which, for someone his height, was quite a feat. His relationship with Obi-Wan, which had never been outwardly hostile, had improved as Anakin grew up and Obi-Wan matured. The old tension, however, reappeared when Obi-Wan made no pretext to hide his disapproval of Anakin's behavior as a padawan. He licked his lips hesitantly as Obi-Wan motioned him to come closer.

"Back in the refractory, you told me that he only had a touch of a cold. A fever and this kind of sneezing, congestion, and," Obi-Wan waved his free hand in Qui-Gon's direction, "why wasn't he in bed?"

"I tried, Obi-Wan, he doesn't listen to me." Anakin gnawed his lower lip. "I didn't think..."

"Didn't think what? Didn't think his bondmate would notice?" Stiffening, Obi-Wan stilled the hand that had been rubbing Qui-Gon's back. "Didn't think Qui-Gon needed someone to care for him?"

"Obi-Wan, please." Qui-Gon coughed harshly. The soreness in his throat, increased by all the sneezing and coughing, flared up as he spoke. His intention to become part of the conversation was vain as a fit of coughing doubled him over. Obi-Wan rubbed warm circles on his back.

"I didn't think I could take care of him the way you do. I did what I could."

"Perhaps not, but Qui-Gon is your master and you should be looking after him. He shouldn't have gotten so ill in the first place." Obi-Wan kept his voice calm, but started petting Qui-Gon in a manner that told his mate he was upset. Nervous fingers worked their way through Qui-Gon's hair, scratching against his scalp.

// Obi-Wan, he did, truly. //

// Shouldn't be sick like this, love, shouldn't be. Need someone to take care of you. //

Qui-Gon reached up and waved Anakin nearer to him. He could feel the slight tension between his two padawans -- former padawans. Worry, edged with angeer, from both of them; carefully shielded on Obi-Wan's part, more volatile on Anakin's, but fainter because of the weaker bond he shared with Qui-Gon.

"It's not his fault, love." Qui-Gon pressed his hand to the small of Obi-Wan's back. Obi-Wan relaxed some at the touch. "He didn't know until last night."

Obi-Wan's eyes met his for a half-second, then switched back to Anakin. "He's your padawan, he should know when to look after you." Obi-Wan srubbed his hand over his face. The tension ebbed away from the room and Anakin visibly relaxed.

"Anakin is as much my padawan now as you are." Qui-Gon let his hand drop from Obi-Wan and pressed it to his chest to keep the coughing back.

Vague surprise flitted across their bond. Obi-Wan gave Qui-Gon a questioning glance, then walked up to Anakin. The younger man looked over Obi-Wan's shoulder as he approached, still a bit nervous. Reaching up, Obi-Wan traced a line from Anakin's temple to his chest where the braid used to hang.

"Knight Skywalker." Obi-Wan breathed quietly, then clapped Anakin on the shoulder. He shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, I just worry about Qui-Gon. I didn't know about the training bond."

"It's all right." Anakin smiled warily. "I understand, sort of."

"Come back, later, we can talk." Obi-Wan sat down heavily next to Qui-Gon. He slid his hand atop Qui- Gon's where it rested on his chest.

The snag in his chest eased as Qui-Gon took slow easy breaths, letting the warmth from Obi-Wan fill him. Qui-Gon kissed Obi-Wan lightly on the cheek, then spoke to Anakin. "I think you should let him take over for now."

"Master. Obi-Wan." Anakin sketched a quick bow, then with relief on his face ducked out the door.

After the door hissed shut, and Qui-Gon got in another round of nose blowing and snuffling into his handkerchief, Obi-Wan returned the kiss. "Now," Obi-Wan shifted on the bed and cupped Qui-Gon's face in his hand, "We need to have a talk."

The worry Qui-Gon had faced earlier that morning coiled up in the bottom of his stomach. A hot sick feeling, to counter the cold of his hands and the ache throughout the rest of his body. He had known that by the time Obi-Wan arrived he wouldn't be able to keep his illness from his bondmate. But keeping it in the background had seemed possible. Of course, being in the throes of a sneezing fit when his Obi-Wan had come home hadn't helped. Qui-Gon lowered his eyes, turning his head from Obi-Wan to rub his nose into the handkerchief. Obi-Wan's hand fell to the side of his neck, fingers curling around the edge of his cloak, resting there as Obi-Wan moved closer to him on the bed. His fingers crept up Qui-Gon's face, cool, dry fingers that smoothed the worry from around his eyes. Obi-Wan ran one fingertip over his cheek, then down his nose to the tip, and over his lips. Qui-Gon felt as if he had never been touched so tenderly before, but he must have, for his bondmate always touched with such care. Qui-Gon had been waiting so long, just to feel this touch again, the presence of his bondmate both in his arms and in his heart. How could he have not been aware when the man stood so close to him in the refractory?

"I should have known it was you, back there." Qui-Gon kissed Obi-Wan's finger, then his wrist as Obi-Wan's palm rested on his cheek. "Should have known."

"Perhaps." He slid his hand down Qui-Gon's neck. "But I think you have a good excuse. Two, actually. You're ill, and well, I had to make sure you wouldn't sense me until I was quite close to you."

The fingers stroked his face again, just as lightly, but with more of a purpose. A searching tendril of the Force slipped through the bond he had with Obi-Wan, past the shields he had erected to keep the illness to himself, past the ones he had put up to held stave off the infection as long as he could, past the ones that kept at bay the coldness of having Obi-Wan far from him. Qui-Gon leaned into the touch, to make sure it was real, not something that was mere fantasy. Ignoring the dry tickle in his throat, Qui-Gon moved forward, the front of his tunics brushing his mate's. Obi-Wan's lips neared Qui-Gon's neck, just above his pulse point, delicate warmth against his skin. Qui-Gon inhaled shallowly, eased the air out of his lungs, but his breath caught suddenly.

With a loud cough, he jerked away from Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon stood up from the bed; the room wasn't big enough for him to go very far, so he turned away completely from his lover. This was painful and embarrassing for him. Mostly painful, as his chest heaved and head throbbed with each cough. Sith, if he could just force that agonizing irritation from his chest.

"Love, please, sit, you need to breathe, Qui-Gon, please," Obi-Wan spoke to him in words that sounded like so much worried babble. He didn't need to worry Obi-Wan, not Obi-Wan.

He did need to breathe, not let his throat close up with anxiety or concealed emotion. When Obi-Wan guided him to the bed, Qui-Gon stepped over carefully. He sat down. He took a few small breaths. He finally sat up straight and placed both palms on his legs.

"I just want to be strong for you, when we're together." Qui-Gon took another cautious breath. "Because I can't when we're apart."

"Oh, Qui-Gon, you are, you're always strong for me. Whether or not I can hold your hands or touch your mind, you're always in my heart." A shaky smile tried to form on his lips. "I could really use a hug, now, though."

If their bond had been unmuted in the dining area, it was open and unshielded now. The love and affection that Qui-Gon had wanted to give to his bondmate flowed out as he took the man into his arms. Obi-Wan felt so good, solid and real, not the flickering image of a HoloNet transmission or a mention in the Republic's newsfeeds. He was here and holding Qui-Gon, strong arms around his waist and an even stronger heart beating next to his own. Suddenly, Qui-Gon felt very tired, sick, drained, and relieved. It was as if a long journey had come to an end, and he could feel all the pain that had collected over that time.

// It's all right, love, I'll hold you. //

// I've missed you so much, my Aretos. Missed feeling you. //

Obi-Wan pulled away, far enough to look up at Qui-Gon. Sadness and a touch of worry clouded his eyes.

"I can't let you feel it all, Qui-Gon, the battles, the destruction, the way my nerves frazzle without having you near to me."

"But I don't mind, I want --"

"No, hush, it doesn't matter now. I'm here. And I'll stay with you, for as long as you need me."

Obi-Wan nestled against Qui-Gon, burying his head in his lover's shoulder. He shuddered as he hugged Qui-Gon tightly, his breath hot through the layers of Qui-Gon's clothing. A sudden, violent urge to protect Obi-Wan washed over Qui-Gon. To give him shelter, the safety and comfort of home that he longed for, too. The evanescent feeling of home that skittered though his mind and heart the nights he lay awake in this plain, empty room. Brief images flashed through his mind, images of Coruscant, the meditation gardens at the Temple, his master. And Obi-Wan. Boarding the starship Tritus as a general; leaving the Council room a knight; entering the Temple as his padawan. Obi-Wan, always Obi-Wan, standing in the doorway of their bedchamber, as his lover.

// As long as you need me, Master. //

Forever. Qui-Gon stopped the thought from forming and kissed the top of Obi-Wan's head.

// I've already given you that, Qui-Gon. //

He nuzzled the soft hair again. The illness, temporarily forgotten in the flood of emotion, resurfaced and Qui-Gon noticed again how hard it is to breathe through a stopped up nose. He rested his cheek on Obi-Wan's head, sniffled, and brought one of his hands up to his face. Coughing lightly into his fist, he relaxed the hold he had on his lover. With the cough had come the first intimations of a sneeze. Qui-Gon held the back of his hand to his nose, moved out of Obi-Wan's arms, a bit unsteadily, and turned his head into his shoulder.

"hhhCHSHH!! Yishhhih! EhhYISHH!" Qui-Gon bent forward to bury his nose in the crook of his elbow. Both shoulders drew together, tension marking the beginning of each sneeze. "uhh..HUSHHshoo! HehCHOO! Ahhhchoo! EhhGeshhIH!"

"Blesses." Obi-Wan stroked up and down Qui-Gon's spine. He kissed Qui-Gon lightly on the neck, blessing him again more quietly. "I guess we should have that talk, now, love."

A spluttering cough interrupted Qui-Gon when he blew his nose. This Obi-Wan seemed to take as agreement, and Qui-Gon, too full of congestion, watery eyes and nose, had no choice but to listen. Sniffing, he rubbed the tickle away from his nose and lowered the hanky.

"Part of me knows how futile it would be ask how well you've taken care of yourself, if you've seen a medic, and all those other rather annoying, fussy questions I like to ask." A trace of weariness accented his words as Obi-Wan stood and took off his belt. "We've been through all that, more times than I'd like to recall in the past twenty years."

"Not lately." Qui-Gon added. There were too many things they hadn't done recently, having this discussion being the least of them. He rubbed his nose again, more harshly, the sensation becoming more of a sting than tickle now. "hih...IhhISHH!! uhh, Hitch'SHOO!"

"Bless you. No, not lately." Obi-Wan took off his jacket, stretching his shoulders as he walked over to the desk.

Qui-Gon caught the small sigh of relief as the muscles eased and he kneaded his left shoulder through the thin, black undertunic he wore. The twinge he felt from Obi-Wan could have been anything, but it faded before Qui-Gon was able to examine it. The pricking in his eyes and nose had him lifting the handkerchief to his face and taking in a shallow breath.

"Ehhh...heh!TISHH! EhhKESHHSOO!!! HuhshhhUH!" The irritation crept to the back of his nostrils, still stinging, but faintly so.

"Bless you." The clink of a cup on the permasteel bed table accompanied Obi-Wan's blessing. He squatted down beside the bed, patted Qui-Gon's leg, and laid his hand on Qui-Gon's thigh. The concern reflected in his eyes and gestures was gentle, but clear, as he continued to speak over Qui-Gon's sniffles. "But another part of me, the overly-protective, bossy bondmate part, really needs to know how bad you feel, and how long you've been sick."

Qui-Gon's stomach tightened another degree at Obi-Wan's unaffected plea. It wasn't the illness he wanted to hide from his bondmate, just the drudgery of having to care for an ill person, especially when Obi-Wan himself could use the time to relax. He feathered a touch over Obi-Wan's shoulder. His lover's eyes, pale-blue colored in the bright light of the room, tracked Qui-Gon's movement.

Fragile lines, having formed over years from too much worry or stress, surrounded those eyes when Obi-Wan frowned. Like his longer hair, Qui-Gon hadn't noticed when the fine lines formed: another testament to the time they spent apart. Qui-Gon swallowed roughly, his hand sliding down the slippery material of Obi-Wan's undertunic, warm from his lover's skin. Instead of speaking, he held a breath against the tickling in his nose, and, when the breath did more to intensify than dissipate the sensation, he clapped both hands to his face.

"EhhTishhChoo! Hetch!!ahh Ishheeeh! EhhSHOO, KehSHOOH!" Bent forward, the itch in his nose, throat and even lungs, Qui-Gon forced out another sneeze. "ehh... EH! ISSshhhHeh!Shhschhh!!!"

"Bless you, love." Obi-Wan pushed aside the tangle of hair that fell over Qui-Gon's shoulder and into his face. "Any more?"

Qui-Gon kept his hands cupped over his face and nose, but shook his head. He sniffed loudly, the sound more liquid sounding than earlier, and rubbed his nose into his fingertips. Harsh, strong and wet, the last sneeze left his nose and throat irritated and hands damp. Careful only to inhale through his nose, Qui-Gon averted his eyes from Obi-Wan's.

"Blow your nose?" Obi-Wan asked and moved away at the same time.

A nod, this time slightly embarrassed, as Qui-Gon snort-coughed into his hands.

"All right, we can handle that." He retrieved the handkerchief from the bed. Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, Obi-Wan smoothed back Qui-Gon's hair as he blew his nose. "Do you have any more? Clean handkerchiefs? Tissues?"

Qui-Gon nodded limply. "Closet."

Thankful for the semi-privacy as Obi-Wan walked away, Qui-Gon cleared his nose with a few long, hard blows. Obi-Wan rummaged about in the tiny closet, emerging with a sound of triumph and both tissues and handkerchiefs. He wouldn't have had to ask at the Temple, Qui-Gon thought. Not only had he been rendered unable to give Obi-Wan a proper homecoming, but also a proper home.

"Here." Obi-Wan tugged the sodden handkerchief from his hands and pressed a clean tissue there. "You should probably drink that tea before it becomes a cold beverage. Let me take off your boots."

While Obi-Wan efficiently unbuckled and removed his shoes, Qui-Gon sipped the tea thoughtfully. It had cooled, becoming lukewarm and almost sickly sweet from the large amount of honey Anakin had put in it earlier. Still, it pooled in his stomach, melting the tight anxiety. He took another mouthful, swallowing it easily as if light slid down his sore throat, ameliorating the raw itch in his chest, taking away the chills that lingered in his fingers and toes.

"When did you start coming down with a cold?" Obi-Wan glanced up.

"A few days ago?" He's grown accustomed to the sore throat and tiredness in the past four days. The one moment that the symptoms started had vanished in a haze of confusion.

"You've only been here a few days." Obi-Wan replied with more of a question than a reminder in his words.

His hands closed over the tops of Qui-Gon's feet, strong, firm, rubbing up over his ankles. The same slow, soothing sensation that filled his insides when he drank the tea seeped into his limbs. His feet hadn't ached, had they? Now they just felt, well, good.

"It just got bad?" Obi-Wan sat on the bed next to him, pulled off his own boots, and stripped off his undertunic. "Settled in your head and chest? May I?"

Clutching the sleeve of Qui-Gon's cloak, Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. He eased the garment off and got rid of Qui-Gon's belt in a matter of seconds. More warmth, fingers in his hair, rubbing his neck, carefully drawing out the tension.

Not the tea. Obi-Wan. Always Obi-Wan.

Marveling at the revelation, Qui-Gon dragged his index finger over Obi-Wan's jaw line. He should have known. It was the same feeling, the same wonderful, pervasive, subtle feeling of love that he sensed when Obi-Wan first arrived. Not just love, but love and light and the Force, and all the other emotions that welled up inside his heart to which he couldn't possibly start to give names or words.

Just Obi-Wan.

His lover kissed him slow and searchingly on the temple, so close that the heat of his skin clung to the air between them. Even this Force directed inquiry, seeking out what illness he had, was a solace. Obi-Wan caressed his chest lightly through his tunics, lips and hand leaving his body at the same time.

"Do you know when you started running a temperature, because you definitely have one now."

"Sometime yesterday." Irritation twinged through his sinuses, fading as Qui-Gon pinched the bridge of his nose. When he dropped his hand, he gave Obi-Wan a fuzzy look. His hand, now in the form of a fist, returned to his face as a tickle fluttered over his nostrils. "EhhKehSHHN!"

"And you've been feverish since then?" Obi-Wan's brow furrowed with worry. "Qui-Gon?"

Fist still held before his nose, Qui-Gon nodded. Distraction and tears had clouded his eyes and he couldn't focus on the clean, folded handkerchief Obi-Wan offered to him. Qui-Gon tipped his head back from his hand with each inhalation. His mouth fell open, and, in an expression of urgency, his breath snagged in his throat.

"Hehh... huhn! UhhEhhChhshhh!" He managed to half-stifle the sneeze, eyes squinched tight with the effort. "EhhCHH! Chishhoo! Shoo! Ehhishhih!"

"Bless you ..." Obi-Wan ventured as he pressed a handkerchief into Qui-Gon's dry hand.

"Huh AhhSHOO!! Ahhh HuhISHHHshoo!" Qui-Gon brought it to his nose, partly unfolded, relief evident in the way he let the sneezes come. "Uhghuh..KISHHOO! Ahuhshhhah! ehhp!TishCHOO!"

"Blessings!" Obi-Wan's arm encircled his waist, pulling Qui-Gon into a half-hug.

The embrace kept him from pitching forward as a few throaty coughs got tangled in his chest, hampered by the build up of another sneeze. "HuhhUHSHhhoo! Heh-eh... ESHHH!!!" The sigh that came after was somewhat muffled by the handkerchief, but Qui-Gon's relief was unmistakable. He leaned into Obi-Wan, taking a few moments before clearing his nose.

"You really do need to rest, don't you, love?" Obi-Wan's cool, slim hand rested in his as Qui-Gon wiped his nose.

"I hadn't realize how much being sick had taken out of me." A deep yawn, following by a ticklish chain of sniffles said more than his vocal concession. "And you, Obi-Wan? You'll rest, now, too?"

"Do you really think I'd give up a chance to spend the day in bed with you?" Obi-Wan rose and stretched his arms over his head and yawned, too. His eyes flickered across the room and lit up with delight. "You have your own 'fresher? Does it have hot water?"

"Most of the time."

"Can you get ready for bed while I take a quick shower?"

"Of course."

Qui-Gon cleared his throat, overlooking the pain in his head and chest, and stood up. He clasped Obi-Wan's hands briefly, then moved to embrace him. His skin was smooth and warm beneath Qui-Gon's palms as they skimmed down Obi-Wan's back.

// Thank you. //

// I love you Qui-Gon, none of this is a bother. What do you thank me for? //

// Coming home to me. //

Obi-Wan clung to him for a minute, a feeling of content and happiness trickling steadily over their bond. He leaned up and kissed Qui-Gon delicately on the lips once, then twice, as if reluctant to stop.

"I'll make it fast, I promise. I just haven't had a hot water shower in days. Sonics never seem warm enough." He kissed Qui-Gon's shoulder before moving out of the hug and closer to the 'fresher. "Get changed, Qui? It'll only be a few minutes."

"Yes, love. Go on." Qui-Gon turned away as Obi-Wan disappeared into the 'fresher. If he hadn't felt quite so stuffy and in need of a rest, he would have found it rather funny. He hadn't been out of the sleep clothes more than a few hours; putting them back on seemed ridiculous.

Although he couldn't stop himself from sneezing more than a few times while he dressed, Qui-Gon had quelled the sniffles momentarily. By the time he shrugged into a sleep tunic, any movement of breath would have resulted in an uncontrollable runny nose. When Obi-Wan walked out of the 'fresher, Qui-Gon was in the midst of blowing his nose. Obi-Wan tapped him lightly on the shoulder as Qui-Gon stood before the closet, wiping his nose with the remaining dry corner of a handkerchief.

"Do you have something I could wear? I've slept in uniform trousers before and have no wish to repeat that experience."

Obi-Wan stood next to him, naked, his skin slightly pink from the shower. A few strands of hair clung to his neck, damp even after the sonics had dried the rest of his body. Qui-Gon's gaze lingered where the strands edged over his collarbone, traced the faint, jagged scars over his chest and paused at the smooth curve of his hip. Unguarded, Obi-Wan never appeared more beautiful than at moments like this. Qui-Gon ran the back of his hand over Obi-Wan's hip and up to his neck where he swept the hair back over Obi-Wan's shoulder. He kept his hand there, close enough to feel the heat from the sonics radiating off of Obi-Wan's skin, then turned back to the closet. The desire he felt for his lover would have to wait until illness no longer exhausted him. Qui-Gon handed him a pair of sleep pants and didn't bother to offer a tunic. Obi-Wan would have to be very cold or ill himself to wear more than a pair of light, cotton pants to bed.

"Doesn't Fleet Command outfit their officers with sleep clothing?"

Obi-Wan slipped into the pants and cinched the drawstring. The pants were at least two sizes too big, hung off his hips, and fell past his ankles to the floor. But for all that he looked comfortable and full of sleepy warmth.

"Of course they do. Very uncomfortable, striped things." He smiled wryly. "They're back on the ship."

Qui-Gon swiped a sleep tunic sleeve under his nose, absentmindedly chasing away a tickle. It hadn't occurred to him until now that Obi-Wan might have expected to return to the Tritus before nightfall. He brushed the thought away and rubbed his nose into the sleeve once more. While the itch seemed to hover at the tip of his nose, rubbing it here only irritated the chapped skin. Behind the little twinge of pain, the tickle grew strong enough to make Qui-Gon take a step away from the closet, eyes clenching shut.

"EhhKISHHuh! KeshhSHOO! ahhhihIhhSHHuh!" A series of hard, forceful sneezes that made his head spin a little too much. Qui-Gon kept his hand before his face, at the ready to catch another sneeze that wouldn't quite come.

"Bless you." Obi-Wan's palm slid into his open tunic, over his stomach and around to the small of his back. "Are you getting chilly?"

Before Qui-Gon could answer, the warm weight of Obi-Wan's hand settled at the base of his spine. He pushed lightly, directing Qui-Gon toward the bed. Without being controlling, Obi-Wan's touch was insistent. He paused beside the bed, swept up the used tissues in a clean, quick motion and turned down the blankets. Qui-Gon waited for Obi-Wan to climb into bed, stifling a yawn. Obi-Wan, however, didn't move except for giving him an impatient look and shaking his head.

"Just get in bed, love. When you're well you can sleep on the outside. It's not like I'll be in danger of falling out of bed."

"I'm not really used to sleeping that way." Qui-Gon replied, his words mumbled as the sneeze built up again. "Excuse, hiih... me, huhhehh..." He still had the handkerchief, somewhere. "uhhISHH-SHOO!! HihSHOO!" He sneezed freely, hand held up to the side of his face to shield Obi-Wan from the spray. Panting, eyes fighting to stay open, Qui-Gon plucked the handkerchief from his sleeve "ehhhCHishh!! EhCHshhoo! hehh...heh!Chuh! ehCHOO!" Qui-Gon half-caught the sneezes with the balled up handkerchief as he moved away from the bed, intending to replace the handkerchief with a clean one. "Heshhah! EhhKESHOOsh!"

Qui-Gon stumbled backward, legs bumping the edge of the bed, and sat down in a heap. He fought down the urge to cough. He was able to give his nose a short, clearing blow, but not to keep the gasping breaths from coming. The tickle in his chest and throat developed into an urgent fit of coughing.

"Bless you, Qui-Gon. At least the sneezes got you onto the bed." Obi-Wan patted him firmly on the back. "Maybe I should have taken you to the med-bay instead of bringing you straight back here. Will you be able to rest all right?"

Taking a deep, slow breath, Qui-Gon lifted his head. Tired, achy, congested, he could think of doing nothing else besides resting. Especially now that his bondmate, his Obi-Wan, was here with him.

"I'll be fine, I'm sure, Obi-Wan." He stroked Obi-Wan's hip. His lover's eyes still looked worried despite the reassurance. "If I feel no better tomorrow, I'll go see a medic."

"Thank you." Obi-Wan replied with relief.

That alone, the easing of the tightness around Obi-Wan's eyes and mouth, would be worth the trip to the med-bay. The small smile on Obi-Wan's face, his fingers edging over Qui-Gon's where they rested on his hip, would definitely be worth the time spent in the cold, harsh, antiseptic light of the med-bay's examination room. Using the last salvageable part of the handkerchief to take care of a few sniffles, Qui-Gon heaved himself off the bed and climbed between the covers.

"I'm not sure I'll enjoy hugging the wall."

"It's not so bad, if I recall correctly from all those nights I spent with your body pressed against mine if I so much as sniffled on a spaceship." Obi-Wan moved to the side, only sliding in bed himself after fussing with pillows and blankets.

"I had to make sure you were warm enough."

"And I happily return the favor."

The pillows were wonderfully soft beneath his heavy head, but all too soon Qui-Gon's neck and shoulders tensed as his nose acted up again. He forced himself forward, too bothered by the tingling in his nose to sit up all the way, and took a warning breath.

"Obi... cou-could you, ti-ihh, tissue, please... "

"Oh, here, love, bless you!" Choosing to forego handing him the tissues, Obi-Wan held a handful to his face as the sneezes rushed out.

"EhhTCHH! CHH!uhh KESHhhh! EhhCHhtt! hehh...ehh! Kkehh-Chshhh....Hiishhhoo!!" Qui-Gon's body stiffened as if to prepare for another sneeze, but relaxed as the feeling receded to the back of his nasal passages. Obi-Wan rested his free arm behind his shoulders, still holding the tissues to Qui-Gon's nose.

"Blessings. Easy, love. It's all right, bless you." Obi-Wan spoke soft, soothing words, the blessing developing into wordless sounds of comfort as Qui-Gon pulled away from the tissues. He needed the space to breathe and let the sneezes come. Too maddeningly slow, the tingling filled his nose, finally jerking him up mid-breath.

"ehhTISHhih! huh! K'Chhshhh!! huhh EhKISShiih!" A desperate cough hampered the build-up of the next sneeze, the tickle catching in his chest and nose. He expelled both with one, strong, painful action. "Ehh KEHHH!! KeHEHHshSHOO!! EshhUMPFFuhh!!"

Qui-Gon sighed with weariness and leaned his head back against Obi-Wan's arm. His nose ran freely into the tissues as he took damp breaths. Blowing his nose felt as if it would take a little more effort than he wanted to make. But the idea of his dripping all over Obi-Wan's hand was enough motivation to sit up partway and take the tissues into his own hand. Obi-Wan relinquished his grip with another blessing while keeping his arm as support behind Qui-Gon's shoulders. That Qui-Gon was thankful for, especially as the vigorous nose blowing led to a few more sneezes, strong enough to be felt in his chest. With tired relief Qui-Gon eased back against the pillows when the whole ordeal was over.

"Excuse me, it gets bad sometimes." Qui-Gon said hoarsely. He opened his eyes at the feel of a dry, cool tissue on his nose and upper lip.

"Not a problem, love. You know that." With gentle care Obi-Wan cleaned him up, alleviating some of the damp rawness that so much sneezing and nose blowing had incurred. "Now, are you comfortable?"

"Yes, I think so." Qui-Gon slid deeper into the warmth of the bed. Already the satisfaction of having Obi-Wan next to him was spreading through his heart and body. He yawned lazily and with content.

"Hugging the wall not so bad, hmm, sleepyhead?" Obi-Wan dropped a series of kisses on his forehead and temple. Placing his head on Qui-Gon's shoulder, he Force-nudged the lights down to a lower setting. "See? You're hugging me, and not the wall." He snuggled closer to Qui-Gon, his hand resting on Qui-Gon's chest, rubbing idly. "Think you can get used to that?"

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to reply, yawned again and sniffled as his eyes drooped shut. Falling asleep like this, with Obi-Wan curled up next to him, nuzzling his neck and breathing in his ear, was something that he had never grown unaccustomed to.

// Sleep well, Qui-Gon, love. //

// Love you, Obi-Wan. //

Obi-Wan's hand stilled on his chest, but remained a heavy and familiar weight as Qui-Gon sank deeper into sleep. Even ill, he would sleep better with his lover than he had when healthy, but alone. Like Obi-Wan's touch, the thought stayed with Qui-Gon, pleasant and half-perceived until he fell asleep.

= = = = =

When Qui-Gon awoke, Obi-Wan no longer slept tightly curled around him. As he stirred, Qui-Gon soon realized that his bondmate remained close to him. Soft fingertips grazed over his temple and the bed still held the warmth of Obi-Wan's body. Blinking tiredly, Qui-Gon dispelled some of the sleepy disorientation from his head. He had expected to encounter brightness, but only a dim, grayness lit the room. It was calm, tranquil, like his lover's quiet breathing or gentle stroking of Qui-Gon's hair.

Obi-Wan sat on the bed next to him, scrolling through files on a datapad. A muted green glow illuminated his fingers as they hovered over the pad, then faded into the gray light as Obi-Wan clicked it off. The pad clattered down onto the bedside table and Obi-Wan settled against the pillows. His fingers wandered over Qui-Gon's forehead and stroked his beard, a cuff brushing Qui-Gon's skin as Obi-Wan's arm moved lower.

// You were cold? // Qui-Gon reached up to grasp the material of his own robe.

// Only after I left the bed. I'm never cold when I sleep with you. // Obi-Wan's lips curved in an affectionate smile. His hand fell away as Qui-Gon sat up.

// You couldn't sleep? // Tugging the blankets off his body, Qui-Gon turned to face Obi-Wan. // And you're cold? Obi-Wan? //

// Qui-Gon, I'm fine. I slept quite well in fact, at least five good hours of rest. // His arm surrounded Qui-Gon's shoulders and drew his head down to rest in Obi-Wan's lap. // And how could this room not feel cold without you to warm me? //

Obi-Wan took to stroking Qui-Gon's hair again with slow and easy motions. Even and regular, like the steady pulse that Qui-Gon felt more than heard as he lay in Obi-Wan's lap. It was soothing, and at the same time, exhilarating, to know that Obi-Wan was here with him. The memory of too many mornings spent alone receded to the back of his mind. Opening his eyes again, Qui-Gon took note with amusement that not only was he not alone, but it was also no longer morning.

// How long did you let me sleep? //

// As long as you needed to. In fact, if you're still tired, you can sleep some more. // Obi-Wan smoothed his hand over the sleeve of Qui-Gon's tunic.

Qui-Gon relaxed under Obi-Wan's attentions, but soon enough the position proved too uncomfortable. While sleep had blurred his senses, Qui-Gon hadn't been fully aware of the congestion. But he could feel it now, throbbing behind his eyes and filling his ears. Breathing through his nose set up a sharp ache in his sinuses, while doing so through his mouth made his dry throat itch. Qui-Gon licked his tongue over parched lips and began to sit up again. He couldn't start coughing all over Obi-Wan. Or sneezing, which is what he was going to do if he let the pinpoint prickle in his nose expand any more rapidly. Obi-Wan gave him a curious look as he propped himself up on one elbow, but the urge to sneeze filled his nostrils. He gestured with his hand in answer, then cupped it over his nose and mouth.

"Heh! KESSHuhh! EhhKhishhSHOO! ehh... heh! ehh! Eshh! UhhUshhSHOOH!" His head jerked forward with each explosion, neck and shoulders still stiff from sleep. "EhhKsshh!! Kehshh-uh!" Qui-Gon struggled to sit upright as the sneezing abated. He steadied when Obi-Wan's hand gripped his elbow.

"Bless you. Perhaps, yes, sit up, there you go." Obi-Wan guided him to a sitting position. He kept his palm flat against his lover's back as Qui-Gon took a gasping, audible breath.

"heh...eh!" The sensation lingered at the back of his nose, trembling, ticklish, then rushed out, strong and wet. "ISSHH!Shoo! KehhTISH! H'Schoo! HehSSHHihh!" Qui-Gon lowered his hand, but having nothing to wipe the damp on, kept it before his face as he sniffled.

"Qui-Gon, bless you! Here, love." He offered the box of tissues.

Turning from Obi-Wan's attentive countenance, Qui-Gon sneezed quickly into the palm of his hand. "hehKIShhoo! Chshhh!!" A slow breath ascertained that he had rid his nose of the tickle. "Pardon me."

"Indeed. And bless you."

"Thanks." Qui-Gon accepted the blessing along with a handful of tissues. Too thick congestion prevented him from clearing his nose. Settling for a few, stuffy blows he kept a clean tissue at the ready for the occasional sniffle or sneeze. "I don't think I'll be getting any more sleep right now."

"No, your nose seems to have other ideas." The tone of Obi-Wan's voice deepened with concern. "But even if you aren't sleeping, you're going to rest. You still sound groggy. Would you like a drink?"

Remembering his dry, sore throat, Qui-Gon took the cup Obi-Wan handed to him. Half full, the cup held cool, slightly sweet fruit juice. Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan over the rim of the container as he sipped.

// Yours? //

// Well, I started it, if that's what you mean. // He took the cup away as soon as Qui-Gon finished and switched from stroking his back to rubbing Qui-Gon's shoulders. "But I didn't leave to get it."

Qui-Gon nodded. The light flavor of the juice remained on his tongue and took away some of the hurt in his throat. Not enough to make it comfortable to talk for a long time, but at least he could swallow without excruciating pain. He smiled as Obi-Wan worked out the stiffness in his shoulders. Even in sleep, he had been able to tell that his lover had not left the room. "Did the general pull rank and have it brought to him?"

"You know, resting does include resting your throat." He kissed Qui-Gon behind the ear. "I'm not really sure. I asked Ani if I could borrow a razor and he brought lunch. So, I'm well fed, clean shaven and up to date on your antics here."

"I slept through all this?" This time talking brought out the irritation in his chest, and a spasm of coughing hunched Qui-Gon over. Obi-Wan's fingers trailed off his shoulders; they returned to sweep the hair away from his face as Qui-Gon's breathing calmed.

"Hush, love, breathe easy. Yes, you slept very soundly. And from what Anakin told me, you rather needed it." Obi-Wan combed his fingers through Qui-Gon's hair, then leaned forward, listening to his breathing. "I'll get you some water, you should be drinking more fluids." With a pat to Qui-Gon's wrist he rose from the bed. "Are you hungry? There's some food for you here."

Qui-Gon didn't have to consider for very long; food held no appeal for him. The mere thought of eating wearied him. It was another activity that he didn't quite have the energy for. "No, no thank you."

Obi-Wan filled a cup with water and placed the pitcher down on the desk. A frown hovered at the corners of his mouth, lips set in a thin line. "No? But you haven't eaten all day, Qui-Gon."

"I don't feel much like having anything. I'm just not hungry."

"Maybe you'll have more of an appetite later. I'll make sure you get something hot for dinner."

He acquiesced with a nod and took the cup from Obi-Wan. Although Qui-Gon couldn't imagine he's any more like eating in a few hours, at least this way he could be sure that Obi-Wan wouldn't miss any meals. The water, colder and less gentle than the juice, icily trickled down Qui-Gon's throat and branched out into several shivering paths over his chest before pooling in his stomach. Dinner, Qui-Gon thought as he handed the cup to Obi-Wan with unsteady fingers, wouldn't send such chills through his body. Perhaps a hot meal wasn't such a bad idea.

"I think I could manage that." Qui-Gon gathered the blanket closer to his body.

"Good," Obi-Wan replied and glanced at the entrance as the door chime sounded. "That's probably Anakin. I told him to make sure nobody disturbs you, including members of the crew looking for me. Should I tell him to go?"

"No." There weren't many places for the young man to go on the base; he usually divided his time between Qui-Gon and the pilots. But even among his squadron mates, Anakin had shown shyness that Qui-Gon had never seen him demonstrate with other Jedi. "Let him stay for a while, Obi-Wan."

"All right."

Trying to attain at least a semblance of decency, Qui-Gon adjusted his tunic and rubbed the sleeve over his face. It wouldn't get rid of his tired eyes or stuffy nose, but it was all he could manage. The sound of quiet murmuring came from the doorway and then fell silent as Obi-Wan walked back to the bed, Anakin following him. His lightsaber clashed with his pilot's jumpsuit just as Obi-Wan's did with the general's uniform. Qui-Gon sniffed quietly, pressing the cuff of the sleeve to his nose, and smiled at Anakin. "Sit down, Ani."

Uncertainly flashed in Anakin's eyes and they immediately darted toward Obi-Wan. When he said nothing and took to propping a pillow up for Qui-Gon, Anakin sat down gingerly. He rested his helmet in his lap and crossed his arms over the top. "Hello, Master. How are you feeling?"

"A little better, thank you, Anakin." Leaning back on the pillows Obi-Wan arranged for him, Qui-Gon gave his bondmate a grateful smile. The insignia on Anakin's jumpsuit caught his eye, the symbol of the Republic. He wore his uniform, not the plain outfit of an off-duty pilot. "Surely, you're not leaving us yet, are you?"

"Not exactly. I'm on my way to the hangar now to do some flight sims and then try to get Artoo to talk to my ship's computer. I need them to be in synch before my squadron moves out." Anakin drummed his fingers on the helmet, then placed it down on the bed next to him.

"Which would be in the near future, I assume?" Obi-Wan asked.

"In a ten days. My squadron will be flying escort when the Tritus leaves for the Corellian system, actually."

Next to Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan tensed. He relaxed as he continued talking with Anakin, but not before Qui-Gon caught the ripple of emotion over their bond. The leave granted to Obi-Wan was brief. Not that Qui-Gon hadn't known; he hadn't been forced to think about how little time he would be spending with his bondmate. Now that both Anakin and Obi-Wan would be leaving in such a short period of time the reality of the situation was before him plain and clear. Qui-Gon slid an arm around Obi-Wan's waist and felt him lean into the touch. Obi-Wan deserved a better ten days off than this.

"I should get going." Anakin said after checking his wristchron. "I don't want Artoo to get any bright ideas while I'm gone. Oh, Obi-Wan." He pulled a datacard from his pocket. "From the Tritus' captain, I think it's the ship's damage report."

"Wonderful." Obi-Wan said dryly. "Thank you, Anakin."

"Sure. Take care, Qui-Gon, I'll see you soon." Having given Qui-Gon a brief hug, Anakin rose and grabbed his helmet off the bed.

"Of course you will, Ani." He assured both Anakin and himself. Everything was moving so fast and ten days seemed like such a short period of time for it all to happen in.

"I'll walk you out." Obi-Wan escorted Anakin as he departed, this time not remaining at the door for a few moments of conversation. He returned shortly and cast the datacard on the table along side his datapad. As it clacked against the table, Obi-Wan ran his hand through his hair and for the first time in Qui-Gon's memory, the lines around his eyes made him look tired.

The mattress shifted as Obi-Wan slid behind Qui-Gon. He took a handful of moments to settle, but when he was finished, he pulled Qui-Gon against his chest. Leaning around Qui-Gon he straightened the bedclothes. // Is this all right? //

// Obi, you don't have to -- //

// Indulge me; I want to. You're comfortable enough? //

// You can join Anakin if you like, you haven't seen much of the base yet. //

// In this outfit? Be realistic, Qui-Gon. Besides, Anakin doesn't want to spend time with me right now. He's still smarting from our discussion this morning; he thinks I blame him. I shouldn't have been so curt with him. I suppose I want someone to take care of you, mostly I want that someone to be me and I get upset when it can't be. // Obi-Wan paused. // Now, are you comfortable? //

Qui-Gon looked down at the arms around his waist, covered in the material of his own cloak. Obi-Wan's lips moved across his cheek with a kiss. // Yes. More than I have been in a long time. //

// Good. //

Rubbing his nose into the tissue, Qui-Gon delicately sniffed back a tickle. The feeling disappeared, but crept back, and Qui-Gon held the crumpled tissue to his face. "ehhHept! Tishhh!"

"Blesses." Obi-Wan mumbled into his hair. Pulling away a fraction, he asked, "More, right?"

"EhhKESSH!! HehKeshhoo! Ahh, ahh!! HehISHHahh!" Spray hitting his hand and soaking through the tissue, Qui-Gon made a noise of frustrated misery. The next sneeze came on too urgently for him to replace the tissue. "HuhhHISHOOSH! ah..."

"Tissue, Qui-Gon?"

Looking at Obi-Wan through tears, Qui-Gon wadded up the used tissue in his hand. Instead of giving it to Obi-Wan he discreetly shoved it over to the small pile of discarded ones on the bed. "I think, maybe," he paused, sniffled, and checked the growing tickle by pressing his index finger to his nostrils, "a handkerchief would work better."

"Ah. Yes." He snatched one from the table and unfolded it for Qui-Gon.

"HehhCHSSEH! KehSHOO! Ahh...eh...Ishhoo! Kishh!eh..." He sneezed with relief into the thankfully dry handkerchief. "HuhChhfffHuhh! EhKeshhoo! Keshh, huhCHOO!! oh, my..." The congestion having been broken up some, Qui-Gon blew his nose vigorously. Pain and weariness clouded his senses, made up of raw, chapped skin and teary eyes, the throb of headache and wheeze of his breath as it left his chest. But behind all that, literally even, was the light touch of a hand between his shoulder blades.

"Are you well, love?" His bondmate's voice cut through the haze, clear and caring.

Qui-Gon cleared his throat roughly. "I'm just a little worn out, Obi-Wan."

"Now, tell me Qui-Gon, do you need to sleep? You don't need to stay awake for my benefit." Obi-Wan massaged his spine. The worry that Qui-Gon had been attempting to keep out of Obi-Wan's voice filtered through his words and over their bond.

"I'm not very sleepy, Obi."

"But you are tired. I have no problem with having you sleep in my arms, dearest." Slowing his hand, Obi-Wan touched the tips of his fingers to Qui-Gon's back, tracing small patterns through the thin fabric of the sleep tunic.

Qui-Gon looked over his shoulder and caught the light in his lover's eyes. Bright, even in the dull dimness of the room, it wasn't the light of worry. Concern, yes, but not the desperate worry he had feared he was causing to grow inside Obi-Wan. The apprehension Qui-Gon himself had started to feel diminished and disappeared. He leaned back as Obi-Wan's arms came around him again. "I know, love. I'm just more tired than sleepy."

The room was quiet for a while, Obi-Wan nuzzling Qui-Gon's neck as he hugged him close. Smooth skin and lips caressed him as Obi-Wan kissed his ear, tongue darting out to lick the curve of his earlobe. After the silent kisses and sighs, Obi-Wan spoke, "Anakin told me." He paused a moment and buried his face in Qui-Gon's shoulder. // Told me he helped get you to sleep last night. //

// Some nights are harder than others are. I miss you, nights that I can't sleep. // Qui-Gon interlaced his fingers with the ones that rested on his stomach.

// Me too. I guess we're both still learning how to handle being apart. //

// I wish neither of us ever had to learn that. // Aiming away from Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon coughed into his handkerchief. He rubbed his wrist against his nose, not willing or wanting to sneeze at this point. He was only able to control the itch long enough to let Obi-Wan lift his head as a short gasp preceded the sneezing. "EhhhKishh!! KitshhAHH!! Uhhh...Hessshhhih!!"

Obi-Wan kissed his shoulder, relaxed the embrace, then blessed him with another few kisses.

"Excuse me, I, uhh... EhhhHet!!Chfff!! Ch'Shooh!!" Another sneeze tingled through his nose. "Uhhh!! Hushhhoo! oh, sorry."

"Hush, bless you, don't apologize for your sneezes."

The congestion was definitely thinning by now, removing some of the stuffy, achy feeling as part of the process. Qui-Gon blew his nose wetly and with some sense of relief. The impulse to apologize for a multitude of things raced through him. He was sorry that Obi-Wan had to spend long, lonely nights aboard a spaceship, far from a Temple he had been raised in and to which he never got the chance to bid farewell. He was sorry that Obi-Wan went by the assigned title of general instead of the one he had worked his whole life to earn. And he was sorry, so achingly sorry that the years had etched those lines of suffering and fatigue around his bondmate's eyes and there was nothing Qui-Gon could do to make it better. Not in ten days, not when he couldn't manage to stay awake more than a few hours at time.

"Qui-Gon? What is it, love? Is something wrong?"

Lifting his face from the handkerchief he had buried it in, Qui-Gon edged away from Obi-Wan. All the regrets he had spun out in a wild pattern and came together with dizzying speed at their source. "You shouldn't spend your leave like this."

"I'm with you, how else should I be spending it?" Obi-Wan curled his hand over Qui-Gon's shoulder and pulled him back toward him.

"Not like this, in bed the whole time." A sharp cough ended Qui-Gon's sentence.

"Yes, we could be spending our time enjoying the wide variety of attractions on Chionos, like watching the tech 'droids fix the power couplings on the Tritus, rather than staying here, curled up together in a warm bed with a good excuse to be left in peace."

"But you should be with me, not be taking care of me. And you won't even be on planet that long."

"Which is why I need to be here, even if it means tending to your cold. Especially if it means tending to your cold, love." Tightening the grip on Qui-Gon's shoulder, Obi-Wan kneaded slowly.

"It upsets you, and tires you when you should be taking it easy."

"Of course upsets me, you're ill, beloved. But it doesn't upset me half as much as being far from you does."

"But, Obi-Wan!" Frustrated, Qui-Gon collapsed into a harsh coughing fit. The wheezing continued until Obi-Wan held him close once more, palms warm on his chest through the sleep tunic. His eyes watered and nose ran; no choice was left to Qui-Gon but to attend to Obi-Wan's words.

"Listen to me, beloved." Speaking words serious and firm, Obi-Wan kept his mouth close to Qui-Gon's ear. "I can't take care of you when the Tritus is parsecs from wherever the Republic decides to send you. Nor can I even insure that someone else will look after you now that Anakin has been knighted. Qui-Gon, give me this. Let me take care of you while I have the chance. I need to." Obi-Wan's hands crept inside Qui-Gon's tunic. He stroked comfortingly, without tickling. "Shhh... It's all right. I don't want anything more than this. Being with you, that's enough. It's always been enough, you taught me that."

There had been many missions, many rooms, some more luxurious than this one, some less, where all they had was each other, Qui-Gon thought. Obi-Wan was right; that had been enough. Not because it had to be, just because it simply was. It had been enough when all he could offer Obi-Wan was his embrace and heart. It would be enough now.

"Then we're home, my love." Qui-Gon sighed. His head fell against Obi-Wan's shoulder and he reached up to dab at his nose again.

"Yes, we are." Obi-Wan laughed, a low, sweet sound from the back of his throat. He drew the used hanky from Qui-Gon's hand to press a clean one to his nose. "And I'm here to take care of you."

// I wish I had some poetry for you to read. // Qui-Gon sent with a touch of regret.

// Read? Qui, do you want to know what I do all those nights I can't sleep? Besides pace the bridge of the Tritus, that is. I've memorized what you like. It keeps me close to you, inside. //

He lowered the handkerchief from Qui-Gon's face, then returned it to him as Qui-Gon raised his hand halfway to his face. "Do you need to sneeze first?"

Qui-Gon's head bobbed forward as the sneeze came upon him as he nodded in reply. "HuhKshhh!! Heh-Kishhah! EhKesshh! Eshhah!!AhhSHOO!!"

"Blessings. That didn't sound too bad."

"Mmm..." Qui-Gon shrugged between sniffling wetly and getting rid of the last tickles in his nose. He eased against Obi-Wan. "Feels a little better."

Warmth enclosed him, filled his senses, flooded over his and Obi-Wan's bond. Qui-Gon returned that warmth, the sound of Obi-Wan's voice in his ear. The words fell calmly and softly from Obi-Wan's lips, filling the room as he filled Qui-Gon's senses.

"For a thirsty man,
A draught of snow-cold water
On a summer afternoon
Is sweet.

For sailors,
After winter's storms
The calm spring breezes
Are sweet.

But when one cloak
Shelters two lovers,
And the Love Goddess has honor from both,
This is sweeter still."

The room grew quiet again, but a content, comfortable quiet. Qui-Gon twisted his head around, first to look at Obi-Wan, then to meet his lips in a slow kiss. Obi-Wan had been open to him since he arrived on Chionos. Only now did Qui-Gon feel the full extent of that openness.

// You're happy. //

// Yes. // Obi-Wan tightened the hug. // I am. //

// Then so am I. //

= = = = =

For eight out of fourteen months snow fell on the planet Chionos. But, for the remaining six months, the ice and snow melted beneath the orange light of the sun. By the time summer arrived, the planet would be green and lush, with full rivers and mild breezes. As Qui-Gon stood at the viewport in the corridor, he could see the beginnings of that process. The late winter sunrise colored the snows red and yellow, the surface slick and shiny. In the weeks that had passed, he had welcomed a bondmate home only to see Obi-Wan depart again aboard the Tritus. The Republic issued a squadron of fighter pilots to the general's flagship, and thus Qui-Gon also watched his last padawan depart. Both Obi-Wan and Anakin served the Order and the Republic well, a general and a fighter pilot. He was proud of them and he would meet them at the next rendezvous point, whether it was here, on Chionos, or one of the other bases.

But now, he had a ship of his own to board. The series of assignments, planets and duties that lay ahead of him were simply steps on the journey home.
 
 

finis

 

Much and many thanks to Lady Cornflower for beta reading and support.

The poem used is by Asclepiades, from the Greek Anthology, v.169
 
 
 

[4 June 2001]