"Well, there you go master Jedi - Coruscant, right up ahead." Pointing to a star chart on the nav-computer, the pilot of the merchant freighter indicated their destination. "Prepare for the jump from lightspeed. Estimated time of arrival on Coruscant is thirty minutes after the jump. I can handle everything else from here."

With a nod Qui-Gon Jinn accepted the information from the amiable pilot of the merchant ship who had agreed to provide him and his apprentice transport home. The peace treaty negotiations between the ruling clans on Ap'Irena had gone horribly awry; terrorist activity both ruined the talks and made travel to and from the small planet difficult and dangerous. When rumors challenged the neutrality of the Jedi in the peace talks and the Galactic Senate demanded a full report of the events, Qui-Gon arranged a quick and hasty transport to Coruscant. He now walked away from the bridge and headed for the small passenger area where his apprentice waited. Obi-Wan had been so quiet during the whole trip and was unusually content to stay out Qui-Gon's way.

Upon entering the cabin, Qui-Gon found his padawan curled up on a hard bench, wrapped up in his robe and fast asleep. He eased onto the seat next to Obi-Wan and began to stroke his back. At the same time, he touched Obi-Wan's mind, using their training bond to gently awaken him.

// Obi-Wan? Wake up, Padawan, we are nearly home. //

No response, save the fuzzy, sleepy thoughts that drifted through Obi-Wan's mind, answered the mental call. Leaning over the young man, Qui-Gon resorted to shaking him, loosely gripping Obi-Wan's shoulder. Disoriented, Obi-Wan lifted his head to face his master, blinking at the harsh light of the transport.

"Huh? Oh, Master? The ship's so cold, 'n tired, I, I, ehh," Turning away from his master, with an attempt to muffle it in the shoulder of his cloak, Obi-Wan sneezed. "Huhh-ehshoo! ehshoo!" He shyly turned back to Qui-Gon and rubbed his nose as he quietly excused himself. "Sorry I fell asleep, Master." Obi-Wan cleared his throat and shook his head as alertness evaded him. "Are we to report to the council immediately upon return?"

His padawan's glassy eyes, congestion and sneezing held Qui-Gon's attention more than the boy's words managed to do. A pang of concern forced him to wrap one arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders and place his other hand on the sleep warm chest. Using his Force sense to assess his padawan's condition, Qui-Gon easily determined that indeed he would be tending to the Jedi Council - alone.

= = = = =

/ Oh, Sith, I'm dying. /

Obi-Wan woke up more completely a few hours later only to find himself fully clothed, sans boots, cloak and belt, and stretched out on his own bed. The placement of his lightsaber on the bedside table indicated some care had been taken before he fell asleep, however, he recalled nothing that would indicate thus. Only dim memories of clumsily walking off the transport and through the Temple's halls flittered through his head. Vaguely confused, he swallowed hard; his world momentarily centered on the raw, itchy feeling in his throat, the massive congestion in his nasal passages and the overall ache that pervaded his limbs. Obi-Wan sat up slowly, closing his eyes against a wave of dizziness and reaching out through the Force for his master. Not sensing Qui-Gon in their quarters, he glanced at the soft, green glow of the holocron that lit up the otherwise dark bed chamber.

/ Second hour of night, Master must be with the Council. Gods, I feel awful. /

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Obi-Wan ran his hands through his short, red-brown hair. The uncomfortable warmth of illness clogged his head and he felt weary, as if he had run up to the point of exhaustion. Yet, sleep no longer tempted his senses. Breathing proved difficult for him; short, dry gasps of air irritated his throat, while inhaling through his nose made him cough and splutter from congestion. After a soft cough he began to rub his nose with the sleeve of his tunic. The tickles were starting to bother him within minutes of waking up and he soon lowered his harm and closed his eyes in expectation. His nostrils quivered a bit as the tickles finally developed into sneezes.

"Huh, huh ah-ishoo! echoooo! heh-hnnchoo!" He half-stifled the last sneeze into the sleeve of his tunic and Obi-Wan waited, another sneeze desperately lingering. "ahhh, heee, ehhh, huh, umnchishh! ahahhh."

Neither too loud or too strong, Obi-Wan sneezed in a way that didn't merit stifling in private. He had hoped to squelch the itchiness in his nose by holding back the sneezes, but the sensation remained as he sniffled and rubbed his nose again. Some of the tension drained from his body as the sneezes finished, leaving Obi-Wan with a runny nose. Although he inhaled as if through quicksand, he could feel the congestion ease a little and walked over to the 'fresher to blow his nose. Leaning against the wall in the 'fresher, he blew with a strength that made his nose redden and his eyes water. As he wiped both eyes and nose, the haze of sickness began to settle upon him again. Like the thick, dark smoke that choked the air out of the crowded meeting rooms on Ap'Irena. Obi-Wan shivered as he thought of a mission that the Council had labeled 'safe, diplomatic intervention' but had ended as a horrific scramble to survive. The scent of the foul smoke clung to his clothes; the taste coated his tongue; reality and memory mingled in the fuzzines of his mind. Yanked back into the present by a spasm of coughing that left his chest aching and his throat more raw, Obi-Wan leaned on the counter to steady himself.

/ When did I get so ill? I can't even recall, just falling asleep in the transport ship, and Master - oh no! Master, you must be so disappointed in me, again. /

Guilt began to cloud his heart, but before his thoughts could precede any further, Obi-Wan was forced to cover his nose with the tissues he held and yield to another sneezing fit. As he eyelids closed and his breathing sighed out in shallow breaths, he clutched the handful of tissues to his face, attempting to coax out the bothersome tickle.

"OH! huh, huh, ahh, huh-ahheshoo! shoo! aheschoo! iihhtachshoo!" With a shake of his head and, Obi-Wan started to clean out his nose. The pressure and ache that dulled his thoughts grew in his sinuses, a sure sign that sleep indeed would elude him for a while. Yet, he needed to wash the feeling of smoke and panic from his body, so perpaps it was just as well. Sniffling coughing to clear his nose an throat, he began to run water for a bath.

Obi-Wan turned away from the steaming tap and slipped the sash of his tunics off. In the low, gentle light, he examined his reflection in the glass above the 'fresher counter. Tears glistened in his eyes, making the gray-blue unnaturally bright and spiking his eyelashes with dampness; illness and fatigue were marked out clearly in the red that rimmed his eyes and the dull, dark circles beneath them. The slack paleness of his features was broken only by the ticklish pink of his nose. Absentmindedly, Obi-Wan loosened his padawan braid and combed out the lock of hair. His eyes wandered over his reflected image as the mirror clouded with steam.

/ Force, I look horrid. Maybe I can start on those datapads before Master gets back? Uhh, no, not my nose again, oh, it itches! /

Distracted, he pressed his nose up against his index finger and rubbed it hard. The more he scrubbed at it, the more agitated his nose felt. Drawing his hand back, he touched his nostrils with the tip of one finger. Prone to catch the sneezes more than he liked, when ill, he spent much of his time trying to keep a sensitive, itchy, congested nose under control.

"HehEshoo! Ahishhoooo! ahh, ah, huh, eyheschoo!!" His outer tunic fell open as he leaned forward and sneezed freely. "Gods, uhhhnoohh, more, snee, sinn, nehhishh! hishoo! kishoo! ahh-Choo!" Slumped against the counter, he snuffled and hung his head down until his nose became too annoying.

/ Oh, better blow my nose, again and get this bath over with before I succumb to whatever it is that I've come down with. /

After a good, hard blow and a final swipe on the sleeve of his tunic, Obi-Wan shrugged off his outer layer and stripped out of his under tunic. The constant pain in his sinuses had turned to a throbbing due to the nose blowing and the cold air against his chest made his bones ache. Shivering, he knelt next to the bath to dial down the tap, but as he made a move to rise, his breath caught sharply in his chest. A violent coughing fit seized his kneeling and hunched over body, wracking exhalations that made his eyes water and chest pound. Obi-Wan remained in that position, long after the coughing ended, his shoulder trembling even as he took short, delicate breaths.

Certain that he breath easy again, he stood slowly and took of his trousers and underwear and stepped into the bath. A cocoon of steam and hot water absorbed the aching coldness that pervaded his limbs as he sunk down into the tub. One hand rested on his chest and pressed slow circles to help quiet the pain that tore through his chest when he coughed. Obi-Wan hastily washed his hair and body clean so he could relax in the warm water. A lazy languor seeped into his body as he released the tension and anxiety of the mission into the Force. Stretching, he breathed out a long yawn and sniffed, his eyelids drooping shut. A shiver tingled up his spine as the bath water cooled; weary, Obi-Wan heaved himself up and out of the bath. The touch of chilly air made him hiss through teeth that clenched as he shivered and water trickled down glistening skin and hair made gold by the glow of the light.

A fuzzy feeling made his eyes, nose, ears and throat itch in a way that evaded all attempts to be relieved. Shaking his head to break through the fog of disorientation, Obi-Wan reached for a towel. He buried his face in the warm, dry cloth first and held off the sniffles. Next, he dried his body slowly and wrapped the towel about his hips and padded into his bedchamber. The water that dripped from his loosened braid sent a shock of cold through him that quickly urged him to slip into a pair of sleep pants. Thus clad, he sought the common area of the quarters and blinked rapidly as he encountered the bright lighting there. Rubbing his eyes, Obi-Wan walked quietly to the couch where his master sat. He had not realized that Qui-Gon had returned and the fact that he hadn't even looked at the mission reports sent spinning thoughts of apology through his dazed mind.

"Master, I didn't hear you come in, I'll start on the datapads," speaking quickly and with an effort not to start coughing, Obi-Wan took a shaky breath, "I'm so sorry, I fell asleep."

"Padawan," Qui-Gon replied, placing his hand over Obi-Wan's, massaging the knuckles with his thumb, "The report to the Council can wait. You showered? Sonics would have been better, the wet is making you shiver."

His brows knit with worry, Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan a long, hard look. A valiant attempt to look well made him smile, even as series of tiny sniffs degenerated into two, delicate sounding stifled sneezes. Pressing his hand to Obi-Wan's forehead he checked the young man's condition. The cold has grown more grave in the hours since he put his padawan to bed; the congestion that clogged Obi-Wan's nasal passages and sinuses had begun to affect his chest, a low grade fever had developed. Qui-Gon laughed softly as his padawan leaned into his warm touch with a sleepy sigh.

"Come, now, Padawan mine, you need bed rest." His hand slid tenderly from forehead to neck, easily detecting the raw ache in Obi-Wan's throat. Qui-Gon leaned forward and spoke softly, responding to the thoughts that swam over their bond. "Shall I bring you tea for your throat? It'll help, at least a little. And no, Obi-Wan, nothing is more important than you health right now."

Qui-Gon stood up, reluctantly drawing his hand from Obi-Wan. The droplets of water that seeped from his hair onto his bare torso continued to made Obi-Wan shake with cold. He looked so young and vulnerable. With a frown, Qui-Gon gently tugged his padawan's loose lock of damp hair.

"Obi-Wan, go dry off your hair so I can redo your braid. Wait for me in your bedchamber."

Obi-Wan watched his master enter the kitchen and decided to follow him instead of going directly to finish drying off. The feel of cold tile against his feet shocked him a bit, causing him to draw his arms around his chest. Determination to find out what happened in the Council chambers cut through the fog in his mind. He knew the reports must be finished and handed in before further action could be taken, no matter how thorough Qui-Gon's briefing had been. Standing next to his master, he opened his mouth to speak, but the simultaneous admonishment he got from Qui-Gon and onslaught of the sneezes prevented him.

"Padawan! Did I not just tell you --" Immediately Qui-Gon softened his tone when he saw Obi-Wan caught in obvious anticipation of a sneeze. "Oh, Obi-Wan, here, here you go." Handing Obi-Wan a dinner napkin, the closest thing to a tissue nearby, Qui-Gon leaned against the counter and waited for him to get through the fit.

"Uh-shoo! Ehushoo! Oh, s-sorry, Mas-oh, Mas-ter, huhh, ah-ahisshoo! ahh, ahahh, hushoo! shoo, ehechoo!" Not attempting to speak yet, Obi-Wan held the napkin to his nose and started to blow. He felt his master grab his shoulders, turn him in the direction of his bedchamber and give him a push. In no condition to argue, much less speak, Obi-Wan complied and slowly headed toward the 'fresher first to get a towel.

Qui-Gon put the kettle on the cooking unit after watching his apprentice walk with uneven steps. Illness impaired Obi-Wan's ability to shield all his thoughts and feelings from Qui-Gon and allowed his master to easily sense the boy's discomfort and worry. Discomfort, from a serious head cold that threatened to develop into something worse; worry, over duties not completed. Looking after Obi-Wan when he was ill was not a chore to Qui-Gon, but convincing his padawan to not let guilt set in was a difficult task.

After quick change from formal wear to an old, worn tunic and the removal of his boots, Qui-Gon prepared the tea. Racking coughs echoed from the 'fresher that made Qui-Gon wince inwardly. The painful sound convinced that sometime tomorrow he would be sending Obi-Wan to see a healer.

Obi-Wan was sitting on the edge of the bed when Qui-Gon entered. Hands resting on top of his thighs, his breathing was slow and deliberate, short pants through his mouth as he recovered from the most recent coughing spasm. When his turned his head and addressed his master, a wheezing breath snagged in his chest and sent him hacking again. The chink of china on his bedside table accompanied the dipping of his mattress as Qui-Gon settled next to him. He placed his hand on Obi-Wan's chest and comforted him with the warmth of Force waves that could ease congestion and calm his breathing. Qui-Gon took up the hairbrush that rested on the table and began to untangle the lock of hair.

"Master? About the meeting?" Obi-Wan choked out, unaware of how awful the words would sound once he stared speaking.

"Hush, now, Padawan. You need to rest and take care of this cold." Qui-Gon slid his fingers through the fine hair and started to plait it. Holding the hair with one hand, he took the cup from the table and handed it to Obi-Wan as the boy swallowed with effort after speaking.

// Does your throat hurt very much when you talk, Obi-Wan? //

// No, Master. Well, it hurts a little, more from coughing, I don't want to start coughing like that again. And I don't think I can sleep just yet, I'm so stuffed up and my sinuses ache when I lay down. Oh! I don't mean to complain, really, Master. //

Obi-Wan rapidly quieted his thoughts and evaded his master's eyes, drinking the tea instead. The hot, sweet liquid filled his throat and chest with a soothing warmth that spread throughout his whole body. Qui-Gon made tea exactly how he liked it when he was sick; he was so patient, too. Obi-Wan sipped as his musings wandered away from Ap'Irena and toward Qui-Gon and tea and sleep. He glanced over to his master's hands as they deftly rebraided his hair, checking to see if they were done yet.

// Almost done, Obi-Wan. I think you're more tired than you notice, but I'll get you some decongestant in a moment. //

"Hehh, have, to snee, sneeze," Obi-Wan whispered and tugged his braid away from Qui-Gon's hands. Cautiously, he placed his mug down and turned his head slightly in order to prevent sneezing on his master. Qui-Gon expertly tied off the braid and rose to fetch some things from the 'fresher.

"Hahisshoo! Achoo, Esh-shoo!" Obi-Wan sneezed rapidly, as if the tickles were too much for his already sensitive nose to bear. Pausing for a moment, he lifted his hands and cupped them over his nose, then waited for the rest of the sneezes, his breath coming in soft, panting breaths. "Huh, hahh, oh, ahh, ah, ah-chooo! choo! ishoo, achoo!" As the sneezes and itchiness subsided, Obi-Wan accepted tissues from his master.

When Qui-Gon sat back down on the bed, he ran his hand over his padawan's soft, clean hair, down his neck and back. A short massage that would relax Obi-Wan and encourage him to sleep; a trick the master had learned when Obi-Wan was still young and prone to catch cold rather often.

Obi-Wan blew his nose as much as his stuffiness allowed; the effect being one of eye-popping and forehead stabbing pressure that nearly convinced him his sinuses would surely explode any second now. His shoulders began to ease under his master's gentle administration as the light, circular motion drew his attention away from the achy pain in his head. Obi-Wan considered curling up into a warm blanket and attempting sleep again. He slowly climbed up off the edge of the bed, scooted under the layers of sheets and covers, and leaned against his pillows. Sinking into the very warm, very yielding softness of his bed, he let Qui-Gon approach him and raised low, lazy eyelids. With care, Qui-Gon leaned forward toward Obi-Wan and lifted a small vial of vapor essences to his padawan's nose.

// Breathe this in lightly, if you can. Does that help at all? //

The strong menthol aroma settled around his nose and eyes in a soothing haze and loosened some of the congestion in his nose. Sniffling and twitching his nose at the tickling sensation, he reached for a tissue, motioned for his master to remove the vial of decongestant, and proceeded to wipe his nose with the tissue.

// Hmm, nice, makes my nose feel funny, though. //

Obi-Wan yawned as he sunk lower onto his pillows and dropped the tissue onto the blanket, unable to resist the exhaustion. He looked up at his master and whispered a soft thank you.

Waiting until his padawan was asleep, Qui-Gon rearranged the blankets on Obi-Wan's bed, smoothing them and removing the scattered tissues. Pressing a kiss to his sleeping apprentice's forehead, with a soft, albeit reluctant, nudge of the Force he made sure that Obi-Wan would stay asleep for the whole night. Qui-Gon then shut off the light in the bedchamber and quietly began to walk out of the room. Pausing in the doorway, he looked back at Obi-Wan and sent a reassuring 'you're welcome' over their bond.

= = = = =

Morning arrived, spilling the bright red-gold Coruscant sunlight through the windows of Obi-Wan's bedchamber. During a night of restless slumber, he had pushed the blankets down to his hips. The bright, warm early morning light lent a honey gold to the soft, smooth contours of his body and a fiery glint to his short hair. But the same light that danced over his body glared painfully into his tired eyes, causing them to water and slip shut as soon as they opened. A dry tickle in his throat nudged Obi-Wan out of his sleepy state. He simply tried to ignore it for while, swallowing a few times to get rid of the urge to cough. Suddenly, with an uncontrollable, sharp, choking breath, he was virtually overcome by a coughing fit that ripped through his chest. Gasping between coughs, he sat up and exhaled shakily, his breathing complicated by the congestion in his chest. His head spun and fell onto his chest, as if filled with concrete, too heavy for the rest of his fatigued and achy body to support. With a great effort, he dragged himself out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen coughing.

/ Drink, I need something to drink. Oh, Force I'm so cold, really cold. /

Shaking from cold and the coughs that wracked his body, he carefully removed a pitcher from the cooler. After pouring himself a glass of water, he slumped down onto one of the seat cushions before the low dinner table. The water, slicing down his irritated throat with all the gentleness of glass, sent a sliver of cold from lungs to his belly; it did, however, stop the coughing and relieve the itching in his throat momentarily. Coherent thought eluded Obi-Wan as he lay his head down on the table in his arms, the uncomfortable sensation of illness distorting his perception. It was early; he never awoke this early. Qui-Gon would be meditating, as he was accustomed to do at sunrise. Obi-Wan thought briefly how oddly humorous it would seem at any other time to be up at such an hour. Lifting his head and frowning, he reached for his glass of water. He took small sips, letting the water warm some in his mouth before swallowing it. With a wince, he clunked the glass down and wished he had tea instead. Tea he didn't have to stand up and make. Something warm would do him worlds of good, but again, he couldn't motivate himself enough to go into his bedchamber and get a robe. He yawned and rubbed his eyes as the awful itchy feeling started again. Burying his head in his arms again, his shoulders tensed as he felt a sneezing fit start up.

"Ahh, ahh, huh-ishoo! Shooo! Huhahissshooo!" Pausing while the tickles in his nose subsided, he forced himself to rise and get some napkins from the kitchen, holding his finger under his nose.

"Ahhh, schoo! Echoo! Heh!ashooo! Huhumpfshcoo! hischoon!" Muffling the final sneezes into a napkin, Obi-Wan held the substitute tissue to his nose. Bothered by both a terrible itch and persistent sniffles, he used short, congested blows to clear his nose. He continued to snuffle and cough, only opening his eyes when he heard soft foot falls on the kitchen floor. Blearily looking up, Obi-Wan smiled wanly at his master who entered clad in sleep pants and a loose sleep tunic, hair down and brushed smooth. Qui-Gon greeted him with a look of surprise. Obi-Wan, in turn, raised one hand, turned away, and concentrated on getting rid of the last few tickles that had been building up during the last few moments.

"Ahh, hishoo! Hishh! Eahsoo, shoo! AH-schoo!" Tripping forward a few steps and shaking his head to get rid of the itch stuck in his nose, Obi-Wan mumbled something.

"Blessings! Force, Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon rested his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, steadying him as he walked with his padawan into the living area. "Sit down on the couch, Padawan. Are you hungry? Maybe you want to go back to bed?" He asked the questions softly, almost as if talking to himself.

"Master?" Obi-Wan's voice sounded strained and deepened from his illness. He coughed slightly and attempted to speak, despite the pain and itch in his throat. "Master, could I have some tissues?"

Qui-Gon smiled at his padawan's simple request and got up to fetch some tissues. He returned with a robe and a blanket, which he deposited in Obi-Wan's lap as he handed a few tissues to the younger man. Obi-Wan blew his nose even as his master draped the robe over his shoulders.

"Padawan, I have to go to the Council again after breakfast, but you need to go see a healer. No, shhh, Padawan, don't talk." Busying himself with the blanket, Qui-Gon ignored Obi-Wan's grunt of protest. " I finished the data for the mission last night and will complete the reports alone. We may be sent off planet any time soon "

Qui-Gon sent waves of comfort over their bond. Although the matter was serious, he didn't want Obi-Wan to think that the mission was of more importance than his padawan's health, even if it was only a bad cold. Jedi or not, the boy came first. He wrapped the blanket around Obi-Wan and got up to make tea and breakfast.

// Master, I could go with you to the Council, I'm sure the healers will only give me a decongestant and antihistamine preparation. I really don't need to be coddled. And I'm not hungry, just thirsty. //

// No, Padawan, you are not well. Besides, I'm too old to be fooled. Do I coddle you? Perhaps, perhaps; indulge your master then. //

Qui-Gon placed two mugs of tea, a glass of juice and plate of bread and fruit on the table in front of the couch. He handed Obi-Wan the tea after the juice was refused with a shiver of distaste. The two Jedi ate their first meal quickly and in relative silence, Obi-Wan's little sniffling noises and the occasional cough or sneeze interrupting the peace. Embarrassed, Obi-Wan put his mug down to blow his nose, as the sniffles became more frequent and more annoying. Tissue pressed to his nose, he avoided irritating the raw pinkness of his nostrils. Pitifully frowning, he looked up at met Qui-Gon's eyes. His master watched him with a mixture of concern and amusement as the young man rubbed his nose. Shifting closer, Qui-Gon fixed the blanket on Obi-Wan's lap and brushed his palm to smooth out the wrinkles. As he lifted his hand to straighten the collar of Obi-Wan's robe, the commlink blared. Qui-Gon stood to answer the call, patting Obi-Wan on the back and telling him to dress for the day.

Obi-Wan got up from the couch with reluctance, pushing the blanket off his shoulders. The cold air swiftly penetrated his robe and the cozy warmth disappeared as the blanket crumpled on the floor. Glancing over at his master, Obi-Wan noted that he was in conversation with Master Yoda. The situation on Ap'Irena must be serious if the Council was contacting Qui-Gon directly at such an hour. Serious enough to make Qui-Gon curl his fingers around the edge of the consul and color his knuckles white.

Rubbing his neck to work out some of the aches, Obi-Wan walked stiffly into his bedchamber to prepare for his visit to the healer. He stopped his trek to the bedchamber as he felt a tickle start to sneak up on him. To sneeze now, uncovered and unstifled, would not be a good thing; he didn't need Master Yoda witnessing one of his sneezing fits, especially if he was to go off world soon. Halfway between the common area and his own room, the itchiness quickly spread and made his whole nose tingle with expectation. Walking back to the couch, where the tissues were, he held his right hand tightly over his nose and mouth. However, he had to stop again, when his closed eyes and the overwhelming need to just sneeze out the tickles made him unsteady.

"Hunch-ah, oh, ah, ahnnch! hnmp-shoo!" Obi-Wan stumbled toward the couch, pinching his nose and holding back the tickle for a bit. Grasping a handful of tissues he covered his nose and smothered the rest of the fit. "Humfffshoo! Hnnshhh!! ahh, huhhahh, ihh-tssshhaah! uhhffshuh!" He let his breath out in a sigh of relief, keeping the tissues before his streaming nose. Feeling woozy and with a throbbing head, he made another attempt at getting dressed.

Talking out his clothes, Obi-Wan pondered the healing dome. He didn't like going to the healers and he certainly didn't like going alone. Despite his attempts to convince himself and his master that he ought to do some work, he felt awful. The walk to the healing dome was a depressing thought in and of itself. He could not remember the last time he was so sick. Perhaps that case of the Rhodian 'flu he had two years ago, but at least he was asleep for most of that, not awake at painfully early hours sneezing over and over again. He pulled his sleep clothes off and scrambled into his Jedi tunics and trousers quickly in order to stay as warm as possible. He walked to the 'fresher, cleaned his teeth, splashed some water on his face and fixed his hair. Glancing in the mirror, he let out at groan that reminded him how sore his throat had become.

/ I look like death warmed over. Sith, look at those circles under my eyes, and I - oh no, not more /

"HuhHISHooo! Ishhhhahh! Oh, Kitshooo!" Lifting his head he realized he had sneezed all over the counter of the 'fresher. "Oh, I'm worse than a little child." He muttered, sniffling and coughing, as he hastily wiped off the counter.

Qui-Gon entered the 'fresher, looked at what his padawan was doing, and took the cloth from Obi-Wan's hand.

// Padawan, I'll take care of that later. You look so tired, Obi-Wan, come here. I have to go to the Council now, the ambassador from Ap'Irena has arrived. //

Qui-Gon placed his hand on his padawan's forehead, then on his chest. He frowned at the warmth of Obi-Wan's skin and the way his breath hitched due to congestion in his chest. Obi-Wan pulled away as he started coughing and turned, covering his mouth. The coughs were deep and wracking, bending him over with painful spasms, but not relieving any of the congestion. They turned to leave the 'fresher as the chambers as Obi-Wan's breathing returned to normal.

// I can't go with you to the healers, will you be all right, Padawan? Come straight back here after you see a healer, Obi-Wan. I'll get in touch with you as soon as I can. //

// Master, really, it's just a bad cold, with a lot of sneezing and a stuffy nose. OK, and a cough. But I can take care of myself. You worry about me too much. //

Qui-Gon turned to face Obi-Wan as he palmed the door to their quarters shut. Obi-Wan carelessly adjusted the sleeves of his robe and only acknowledged Qui-Gon's gaze when he felt his master touch him on the shoulder.

// Padawan, it's a really bad cold, to say the least; you feel and look miserable. //

// Oh, Master, I'd so much rather be in bed right now. Duty, however, comes first. Tell me about the meeting when you get back? //

// Yes, Obi-Wan. I have a feeling I won't have much of a choice this time. Feel better and farewell, Padawan. //

// Yes, Master. //

= = = = =

Obi-Wan flopped down into a chair as soon as he entered the foyer of the healing complex and waited for a little med droid to approach him. The walk to the healing dome left him short of breath, with head and chest pounding. The droid stopped in front of him and beeped a cheerful hello.

'Greetings. Name and reason for visit.' A small vid-screen flshed the message in a dull green light as the droid prepared itself to accept the data.

Obi-Wan stared at the droid blankly for a few seconds, making sense of the words only after he read them a few times. His voice, when he finally began to speak, was hoarse and garbled by congestion.

"Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi." Stopping to cough and clear his throat, he gave a passing thought to the droid, as it stood there, mechanically oblivious to his troubles. "I, uhhmmn, have a bad cold."

Chirping happily, the droid flashed a 'Thank you' and 'Report to Room Gamma-8'.

Once the droid scooted away, Obi-wan forced himself to stand up from his seat.

/ Gamma-8, Gamma-8, oh, well. Minor Communicable Diseases. /

Obi-Wan sat in a chair next to a small initiate, a human girl of about ten standard years. They were the room's only occupants, due to the early hour. Shivering he settled his robes about himself, he leaned his head on one of his hands. With closed eyes, he sleepily contemplated napping in the hard chair for a while. Bumping his elbow on the armrest, he shoved his face into the palm of his hand.

"Ahhhshooo! Ishoo! Ahhh, hahh, ah! hahishhhooo!!" Fumbling in his robe for some tissues, he smothered the rest of the sneezes by pressing his nose into the palm of his hand, "hun!choo, choo! Ehchuh!" Obi-Wan held the tissue up to his warm and tingling nose, wiping it and sighing, as the congestion refused to budge. The girl looked up at him curiously and offered him a throat lozenge.

"Oh! Blessings padawan! Here, take it. It's ok." She scrutinized him for a second and then stated matter of factly, "You look very sniffly."

"Uh, I suppose I do. Oh! For- Ahishoo! Huhy-ishhh! Excuse me, bit of a cold," he mumbled, sniffles and swallows interrupting his words, "But you look fine, why are you here?"

He wondered why the girl even bothered talking to him, as he knew he looked like the epitome of 'the minor communicable disease'. Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes, which felt itchy and puffy from the sneezing, but stopped when they started to sting.

"I'm okay now, I had a sore throat and all, but that was last week and the healer said to come back just to check and all. I'm Kalli. You have a lightsaber?" Kalli looked at Obi-Wan eagerly, hoping to hear all about his lightsaber. The entrance of a healer cut her questioning short as the young girl suddenly clamped her mouth shut.

"Kalli, go to the green room, Padawan Ric-Eron will examine you." The healer, a newly knighted Jedi, knelt down in front of Kalli and Obi-Wan. She gave Kalli a data chip to hand over to the padawan healer.

"Okay!! Thanks! Bye padawan Jedi, feel better." As Kalli walked away the healer stood up and looked from her data pad to Obi-Wan. She looked a bit confused as she addressed Obi-Wan.

"Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi? Oh, dear, that med driod needs to be rewired. I was expecting an eight-year-old. Well, that explains your record being so long, I wondered how anyone that young could have had so much on their data chip." Placing her hand on his shoulder, she looked into his tired eyes and squeezed gently. "It's fine, I can treat you, you don't have to wait for another healer. I'm Knight Tullia, let's go into my examination room."

The two of them entered a warm, softly lit room with a cot in the middle. Knight Tullia removed her cloak and set the data pad on the desk. She motioned for Obi-Wan to sit on the cot and told him to remove his cloak, belt, sash and outer tunics. He did so reluctantly, shivering despite the heat in the room. Very tempted to just lie down on the cot, Obi-Wan roused himself and thought better of it, as he believed once he did so he'd never get back up. Tullia sat down next to him and Obi-Wan felt wave of warm, healing Force energy wash over him. He relaxed as the comforting wave took away the cold and eased the dull overall ache.

"Padawan Kenobi, I 'm only going to do a Force directed examination, as that is the healing practice I follow." She spoke in a calming way, her words no less part of the healing Force than the actual energy she directed toward him. "You have to let some of your shields down so I can do it properly, just relax and let me sense how you feel. Relax."

She touched one of his hands to his forehead and led the other arm around his shoulders. Her voice was even and her breath felt warm on his skin as Tullia moved a little closer to him. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and eased at her non-threatening touch, his master used the same technique to prove his health, but without the added stress of mental shield alteration. "Good, stay centered on how you feel." The healer forced a makeshift bond between their minds and bodies.

"Hmm, your nasal passages are congested, your sinuses, too? The pressure hurts? Ahh, yes, it's fine, you can cough or even sneeze if you have to." Taking her hand off his forehead, Tullia rubbed his chest and eased the congestion enough to let his coughing ebb. She left her hand on his chest as sputtering breaths continued to choke in his throat. Obi-Wan pulled back as he felt another sneezing fit come on, just as he had caught his breath after coughing. He cupped both hands over his nose and waited. His eyes closed tightly and his shoulder tensed up as the tickles took long seconds to build up.

"Huh, huhhhh, huhshoo! ashoo! ashoo! hanChoo! I'm sooh, sorr- oh, my, ihhheshoo! ahh, hishoo! Oh, excuse, me," he apologized, sounding even more congested and as if he were upset. She softly laid her fingers on his forehead, and then on his nose.

"Blessings, Padawan Kenobi, blessings. You've been sneezing a lot from this cold? Oh, hmm, you have a sensitive nose." Placing careful fingers on his eyelids, she closed his eyes. Obi-Wan squirmed uncomfortable at the stronger push against his shields then relented as she pulled away gently and let his shields fall back into place.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and instantly yawned. The effort had tired him and left him feeling drained. He reached over to the box of tissues on the cot and took a few to blow his nose. Gingerly touching his pink nostrils with the tissues, he blew softly, only able to stop his nose from running. Tullia got up from the cot, went to the data terminal and inserted two memory chips.

"Padawan, I believe your sinuses have a slight infection in addition to your cold symptoms. I am going to prescribe an antihistamine-decongestant serum and something to boost your resistance to infection and bring down the fever. I really can't give you much more than that, it would be too much medicine for you to take at once. However, you may want to consider a humidifier in your quarters, you have very serious congestion." Tullia completed the addition to his medical data and put the order for his medicine on another chip. A look of worry crossed his features as she turned to him.

"Knight Tullia, I may have to go off planet soon, is that at all feasible? Well, it has to be, it's imperative that I go." Obi-Wan wanted to sleep, just sleep for days and stop sneezing and stop the wrenching coughing fits. But he couldn't help but think of Ap'Irena and detested the thought of his master going alone.

"Padawan, you are quite ill. Space travel is very cold, I cannot recommend that you go." Neatly removing both chips from the consul, she tapped the desk with one finger. "However, can you perform a healing trance on yourself? If you can get rid of the infection and fever, you would be less in danger of becoming more ill. But it would be best to stay on Coruscant and let the cold run its course."

The look on her face told Obi-Wan plainly that she knew he was not capable of performing such a healing trance. The simple trance she had led him in was enough to tire him out, a healing trance would drain much of his energy and thus render him incapable of performing his duty. In effect, he would be more healthy, but weak. Obi-Wan shrugged his shoulders and dejectedly hopped down from the cot.

"Go, get some rest, Padawan Kenobi. Get in touch with me if you feel any wore. A med droid will deliver your medication, along with a data chip detailing the directions." She walked over to the cot as Obi-Wan redressed himself. "Please, do rest. Don't try to fight this cold. I'll send your master a report of this exam with the droid."

Obi-Wan left the healing dome feeling like he had just run a marathon, in the cold rain. He was tired and freezing. And he was convinced his quarters were about as far as possible from the healing dome. He walked back slowly, trying to ignore how tired and disoriented he felt. He master would need him healthy and he focused on that one thought.

/ Gods, there has to be some way to work this all out. I'm Jedi. Jedi do not stay home and sulk because of a head cold. /

Trudging through the doorway, Obi-Wan rubbed his forehead. Once inside, he leaned against the wall and shut his eyes. His sinuses hurt so badly he thought he would either fall down or start crying any moment now. Neither seemed preventable nor desirable. He struggled to remove his boots, frustrated by the inordinate amount of time it took him to get the annoying footwear off. A cushion muffled a sob of relief as he collapsed onto the couch. No longer thinking, the pain in his sinuses and the worry in his mind melted as sleep overcame Obi-Wan.

= = = = =

Hours later, through the haze of sleep that still clouding his senses, Obi-Wan heard what seemed to be the angry beeping of a droid. Burying his head in the couch, he curled up tighter and ignored the series of impatient chirps followed by a soothing, human voice. The hiss of the door put an end to the annoying conversation and Obi-Wan slid back into a state of half-slumber. Not wanting to open his eyes to the too bright light or uncurl his body in the cold of the room, he drifted in and out of sleep. Warm, gentle hands eased the belt and saber from his body, pausing to carefully pat his cheek. They settled a heavy blanket over his body and instantly all the cold shivered out of his limbs. With unfocused eyes, Obi-Wan looked up to see his master smoothing the blanket.

"Huh? Whuhtime'sit?" Obi-Wan mumbled, blinking at the light in the room.

"Hush, it's just midday," Qui-Gon tucked the blanket around his shoulders and then ever so gingerly lifted his head to place a pillow beneath it, "go back to sleep, Padawan."

"'m so tired," coughing, Obi-Wan stirred and snuggled deeper into the blanket, "so bright in here."

"I know, try to rest," a fingertip softly touched his temple as Qui-Gon spoke to him in a low voice.

Too aware of a sinus headache to sleep, too exhausted to sit up, Obi-Wan watched his master through heavy eyelids. Qui-Gon walked about their quarters silently, stocking feet softly padding on the carpet as he carried a cup of tea and a handful of data chips to the data consul. Occasional noises filtered through his congestion clouded mind; light tapping of keys as Qui-Gon answered his messages, an exasperated groan meant his master was probably reading Council reports. Obi-Wan lowered his head back onto the pillow and rubbed his nose in a blanket covered fist. A collection of various meds littered the table in the room, which Obi-Wan assumed was for him. He blinked a few times, clearing the sticky feeling from his eyelids and gave the medication an evil look. Medicine reminded him of miserable childhood illnesses, days spent in a groggy, feverish fog. A fog not unlike the one that seemed to film over his eyes, clog his ears, hover about the tip of his warm, runny nose.

"EhhChishhh!! Ihhyeshoo!" Obi-Wan sneezed quickly, head jerking up from the pillow. He struggled to sit up, but slumped down as his concentration broke. "Ahh, huchoo! Uhchoo! Ahh, hehh, ehhh, ehhh, hheechishhoo!!"

Reaching out a limp arm from under the blanket, Obi-Wan looked around for a tissue. He couldn't quite remember where he had put his handkerchief and his nose was running so badly and what if he couldn't find something soon he was surely going to - -

"EhhpTissshhh!" Sneeze again. Desperate, he sat up and turned around. "Master?"

"Still awake?" Qui-Gon asked as he walked over and stooped down by the couch. Thunking down a datapad and a mug on the table, he handed Obi-Wan his handkerchief.

"Uh-huh," Obi-Wan grunted between blows, "I, can't, rest - ahh! uuhhumpschh!!" Annoyed and irritated, Obi-Wan buried his nose in the handkerchief. "Huhhshah!!"

"Blessings, Padawan." Qui-Gon stood up again to let Obi-Wan finish up sneezing. Pulling a chair over to the couch, he sat down by Obi-Wan and pressed a hand to the young man's shoulder. "I think perhaps you ought to take some of this," Qui-Gon indicated the medicine with a wave in the direction of the table.

Obi-Wan grunted again and ignored the raised eyebrow and hard look in Qui-Gon's eyes. A sharp pain sliced from behind his own eyes and through his sinuses. Obi-Wan clenched his jaw as the pain intensified, then faded. Lowering the handkerchief, he helplessly leaned against the pillow and accepted the pills Qui-Gon handed to him.

"These are for the sinus infection and fever," Qui-Gon murmured and held the mug to Obi-Wan's lips, forcing him to swallow the pills with hot, honey tea.

"And this seems to be the usual cold serum the healers give you," Qui-Gon examined the label on the bottle and held it out to a Obi-Wan, "come, you know you need it, Obi-Wan. Sit up, all the way."

Insinuating himself between the armrest and Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon managed to administer two spoonfuls of medicine into a mostly willing padawan. He then pulled Obi-Wan close to him, wrapping the blanket around his apprentice before he could feel the cold again.

"We have to depart tonight." Qui-Gon sighed. "The Senate wants us to return, as does the government on Ap'Irena."

Qui-Gon paused. Obi-Wan raised his head and looked at his master. Qui-Gon looked weary, as if he had grave thoughts weighing on his mind.

"I'll be fine, Master, it's mostly diplomatic work." Obi-Wan muttered as he edged closer to his master, sleep tugging at the corners of his mind once again.

"Yes, I'm sure, Obi-Wan, I'm sure." Qui-Gon smiled at the lazy blue-gray eyes that offered an almost reassuring look.

"Tell me all the details, Master?" The thought seemed appropriate to some part of his mind. The part not affected by medication, he supposed.

Chuckling, Qui-Gon traced one finger over the fingers that curled around the blanket and started to recount the three hour Council session to his padawan.

= = = = =

Coruscant is not a warm place. The city that grew up over the whole planet could not be described as warm at all, despite the sun and moons that shone on the glistening metal of the buildings. The wind that whistled through the city was sharp as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stood on the landing platform of the Jedi Temple. Qui-Gon spoke with the Ap'Irenean ambassador, Lan Arion, and the Ap'Irenean representative in the Republican government, Senator Piso. Both men would accompany the Jedi to Ap'Irena aboard the ambassador's small transport.

After his master introduced him to the two Ap'Ireneans and he received the usual patronizing glares, Obi-Wan took a few more steps away from his master and drew his hooded cloak around his body closely. The thin, piercing wind stung his eyes and nose, causing the former to water and the latter to run. It also made the pain in his throat unbearable. He had taken the medicine his hearer had prescribed for the sinus infection and accompanying fever upon waking. The antihistamine-decongestant, however, he had foregone. The serum made him too drowsy to function; indeed, it knocked him out for a few good hours.

The congestion surrounded his senses, making them fuzzy, complicating breathing and hearing. Obi-Wan raised a hand to his nose and pressed his nose into his wrist. He attempted to hold off the impending sneezing fit that had been torturing him since he stepped into the sharp outside air. Numb and stiff, his hand fumbled at his face, doing little in the way of holding back a tickle. Sneezing in front of you master was one thing, sneezing in front of someone else's master might even be forgivable, but in front of visiting dignitaries? Well, that was just embarrassing. Especially if you end up doing it during the whole mission.

Obi-Wan pinched the end of his nose, but only ended up with a more sore, more stuffy nose that itched more than before. Rubbing his nose gently in the sleeve of his tunic, Obi-Wan turned away completely from the other men.

"HunnChshh! huhh, unchhh!tschah! choo! hehhehh, ehhchhh-chushh!" Stifling his sneezes and pressing his nose into a fist, he was able to draw little attention to himself. Obi-Wan ceased for a moment, not moving his hand, breathing through his mouth softly and waiting for the rest of the sneezes to come.

"hiiitschoo! hunnh!shaahh!" Shoulders tensed and head bowed, a now damp fist hovering before his nose, Obi-Wan gasped sharply, "aahuh!! ehh, annuhh! Chssshh! Ahhchooh!!"

Obi-Wan slowly lowered his hand and wiped it discretely on his robe. With hurried movements, he removed a handkerchief from his tunic and wearily blew his nose. He had Qui-Gon to thank for the handkerchief; his master had made sure he had more than one on his person before they left their quarters. Through blurred vision, he looked over to Qui-Gon and waited for the signal to board the transport.

Just yesterday morning he had arrived on Coruscant, not even forty-eight hours ago. It felt like he had spent the whole time since then sleeping or being barraged by sneezes and coughs. Not even two days, he groaned, and it seemed as if he had been ill for ages. He sniffled as he walked back and took his placed behind his master. His nose was becoming rather faucet like, if one could have a faucet that dripped constantly and at the same time was plagued by congestion. Pressing the handkerchief to his nostrils, Obi-Wan put on a brave face and watched as the other men boarded.

"Padawan, we will share quarters on the transport. The trip will take about twelve standard hours. I suggest you go to our room, unpack, and relax." Qui-Gon spoke quietly as they walked up the ramp and were shown to their assigned chamber.

"Master," a hoarse voice was all that Obi-Wan could manage and he swallowed painfully after he croaked it out, causing him to clear his throat and cough before he spoke again, "Master, I could stay awake a while longer and help. Let me read the mission briefs."

"Obi-Wan, you agreed to rest, if you collapse due to fatigue, you will not be able to help me at all. Padawan," Qui-Gon stopped as the ship's droid let them into their room and then rolled away silently, "Padawan, hear me now. Take your medicine and sleep. I shall go and speak to the pilot and then to Ambassador Arion. I won't be long and I expect to find you asleep upon return."

"Fine, Master, I just " With a rapidity that even surprised himself, Obi-Wan started coughing, his slim frame wracked with chest heaving breaths. Stomach paining spasms forced the breath from his lungs. Wheezing as he regained control over his breathing, Obi-Wan headed for the chair in the small bedchamber.

"I, I, think, I need to sit." Obi-Wan dropped gracelessly onto the chair and buried his head in his hands. The breath that rasped in his throat produced a few more tiny coughs as he attempted to recover. Qui-Gon's hands settled on his shoulders, massaging gently and relaxing sore muscles with warm Force waves.

"My Obi-Wan, there will be plenty for you to do once we land. And I'm certain that there will be a great amount of data for you to review, as you appear to have your heart set on doing." Qui-Gon leaned down over his padawan and kissed the top of his head. He laid his cheek on Obi-Wan's head and drew his arms around the younger man in a hug. "Just get better, Padawan."

Obi-Wan eased into the warm embrace as comfort pulsed over their bond. Any amount of warmth could only help, his system was drained. When he tensed again and struggled from the embrace, Qui-Gon's arms tightened around his body.

"Heehishho! Ahishhooo! Ehhh, eh, hehChoo!" Another kiss was pressed to the crown of his head as he sniffled wetly. Shaking his head, he forced another few tickles out. "HuhhChushh!! Ahhtishhhoo, hashoo!!"

Unwrapping his arms and standing up straight, Qui-Gon sighed. He walked around the chair and faced Obi-Wan. Lifting the padawan's head, he spoke carefully and soothingly over their bond.

// Please, get some rest, Aretos. I will need you later. you may be Jedi, but you are so sick. You sleep, I'll worry for now, Padawan. //

Qui-Gon lightly stroked Obi-Wan's braid and gazed at him with concern. Looking up at his master, Obi-Wan silently agreed.

// Master, I just want to do what is expected of me. I will not disappoint you because of a simple head cold. //

// You never disappoint me, Aretos. //

Qui-Gon bade his apprentice farewell and left their room. obi-wan watched him leave and then sat in the chair for a few minutes before he curled up on the bed. Qui-Gon seldom used that particular endearment, 'Aretos', the hoped for one, a term hardly ever used for a padawan learner. A word rarely spoken aloud, reserved for communication over a bond. The word made his chest hurt at the same time it made him smile. Kicking off his boots, placing his lightsaber next to him and letting his belt drop to the floor, Obi-Wan prepared to rest. He buried himself in the blankets, despite his state of full dress. Turning his head, he muffled a few sneezes into the pillow.

"Huuhh, uhumffShoo! ahh, hahh, ah-empChishhhh!! Ehhhuhhushhh!" Snuggled deep in bed, he fought the fact that he needed to take his dreaded medication. Ignoring the annoying tickles and sniffs, he closed his eyes. When a harsh rub with the sleeve of his tunic failed to help the situation, he grudgingly crawled out the nest he had made for himself and hunted down the tissues and his medicine.

Drowsily he walked about, eyes only half open, back of his hand pressed up against the tip of his nose. A sour look on his face, he choked down the fever capsules with some water from the 'fresher unit. Burrowing back into the covers on the bed, he blew his nose in a handful of tissues. Nostrils sore and sinuses throbbing, he passed a hand over his forehead. The bottle of serum still sat in his lap, spoon clinking against it as he shifted his legs. Comforted only by the fact that it would put him to sleep, Obi-Wan measured out two spoonfuls, swallowed them quickly and gulped down the rest of the water. Nestling down onto the pillow again, he yawned hugely and quickly fell to sleep.

= = = = =

// Space travel is supposed to be cold. //

Obi-Wan thought to himself, yawning and stretching as he woke up. The medicine he took earlier left him groggy. Opening his eyes tentatively, he snuggled closer into the comfortable warmth. Blinking and looking around blearily he felt a twinge of dismay when he noticed that he had managed to curl himself up around his master. Qui-Gon sat on the bed, aimlessly playing with the keys on a datapad in the low light of the room on the ship. One of his arms resting loosely around Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon hugged his padawan and smiled as he noticed the unshielded thought.

"It is cold, Padawan, if one isn't nestled in a bundle of warmth," Qui-Gon stated, then looked down, "Are you ready to get up, Obi-Wan? You can sleep a little longer, we aren't due to land for another three standard hours."

Obi-Wan slowly raised himself to a sitting position, untangling his robes and straightening his tunics, then rubbed his eyes. His throat was dry and sore and he was still all stuffed up. He simply felt sick, all his senses dulled; a thick blanket of fuzzy sleepiness surrounded him. The dryness in his throat made him start to cough and gasp for air, which led to another massive fit that claimed both his throat and chest. Doubled over, he coughed into the crook of his arm until finally, breathless, he slumped against the headboard and weakly accepted the glass of water his master handed him. He sipped and carefully breathed through his mouth.

"You sound a little worse, Obi-Wan, but how do you feel?" Qui-Gon asked as he took back the cup.

"Itchy," yawning again and gently rubbing his nose with his index finger, Obi-Wan looked over at the datapad, "my eyes and nose itch."

He continued rubbing the tip of his nose and nostrils, teasing out the tickles. Soon his whole nose tingled with the anticipation that a fit of sneezes would be coming on. Sniffling, as the tickles grew, as his nose twitched the tiniest bit, Obi-Wan turned his head away from the datapad and sneezed into the sleeve of his robe.

"Huhh, huh, huhishooo! Hishoo! ehshoo! hahh, ahh, ahh, hishhoo!" Shaking his head and wiping his nose in his sleeve, he waited. The sneezes felt like they had been building up the whole time he was asleep and his nose was desperate to get them out. Obi-Wan took the used handkerchief from his robe and muffled the remainder of the fit. "ehh, Ehh, Eshoo!! eshoo!! Ahh, hah, hishhoo hahishhoo Ahhchoo! Ohh, Force!! Ahheeh, AshhShoo!! Excuse me."

"Blessings, Obi-Wan. Did that feel good? It certainly sounded like it." Qui-Gon stroked his padawan's hair as the younger man blew his nose. Bemused, he smiled at Obi-Wan before his expression turned more serious. "When you're finished, why don't you go take a sonic shower to warm up, and then we can discuss the plans Ambassador Arion and Senator Piso have for us. Upon landing, we have to attend a briefing and you should be brought up to date."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan whispered his response, his voce hoarse from both sleep and his cold. He coughed to clear his throat and regretted reinitiating verbal conversation. However, he could no longer dwell on what he hoped were minor inconveniences. He rose from the bed, dizzily walked over to the 'fresher unit and officially began his work on Ap'Irena.

= = = = =

Ap'Irena was a planet where peace was hard to come by, a place far from peace. As the two Jedi walked down the halls of the estate where the government had temporary headquarters they could feel the unrest. The estate was supposed to be neutral territory, yet the political factions were at work even here. They walked quietly, not wanting to arouse undue attention. Jedi were not completely trusted here, their presence contributed to the unrest, rather than ameliorating it. A soft, but icy, rain fell outside and grayness hung over the whole planet. In comparison to the unrest, the weather was dull and unchanging. Both, however, were cheerless.

The short walk from the transport made Obi-Wan shiver and sneeze uncontrollably for a few minutes. Obi-wan could feel the cold wetness, it pervaded his clothing and spread a dull ache through his limbs. Even inside the rawness prevailed, as the cold air seeped in between the cracks in windows and doors. Qui-Gon motioned the ambassador to enter the meeting room before him and stooped outside the door with Obi-Wan. The padawan was still sneezing as Qui-Gon eyed him with worry.

"Obi-Wan? Are you sure you can get through this? Here, rest a minute, let your nose calm down." He stood closer to his apprentice, warming him with his force energy.

"Master, I - ahishoo! shoo! I'll be - EhtTisshh!! Be fine. Just let, oh!! ahh, shushh!" Resigning himself to a few more sneezes, Obi-Wan waved a hand before his nose and smiled wanly at his master.

"I'll be fine, it was the cold outside, it was too sharp."

He followed his master into the main meeting room and sat next to Qui-Gon at a stern, rectangular table with tall, hard chairs in the center of the room. Qui-Gon pushed his glass of water over to Obi-Wan and nodded that Obi-Wan keep it. As padawan, he was to keep a record of the proceedings, ensuring his master had access to all information about past and current political issues. Such tasks, although important, were boring and demanded one's complete attention. Obi-Wan had again decided not to take the antihistamine-decongestant, as he needed a clear mind. But the stuffiness and sneezing tended to be distracting. Combined with the coolness of the room and the hard, narrow chair he sat in, which made Obi-wan uncomfortable and sluggish, he had a hard time keeping his mind on the goings on. He had assured his master that the infection had not worsened and his fever had gone down, but that was just to keep Qui-Gon from worrying. In reality, he had no clue how better or worse his cold had gotten.

Settled in his chair, Obi-Wan took notes in neat, cursive shorthand, paying attention to the proceedings. More than once he was forced to abandon his talk to stifle his sneezes. Pressing his nose into the palm of his hand, he sneezes as softly as he could. He could hold most of it back, with only a 'schuh' escaping as the force of the sneeze bowed his head. He had to trade the benefit of going unnoticed for watery eyes, runny nose and achy sinuses, however. By the time the briefing ended, he had curbed three sneezing attacks and drunk both his and Qui-Gon's glass of water.

= = = = =

Obi-wan walked down the cold gray corridor of the estate and headed toward the bedchamber assigned to him. He had been dismissed by the consuls as superfluous. Annoyed at being treated no better than his master's secretary, he curtly accepted the consuls' suggestion to leave with a polite thank you. Throat burning and chest aching with illness, he supposed he ought to be glad he had a few hours rest. He had data to key in before the dinner he was required to attend that night.

The halls were deserted and lifeless. Despite the fact that it had been some family's home a few months ago, the estate no longer felt lived in. Obi-Wan paused before the door oh his chamber, wondering how a place that had so many people staying in it could feel so dreadfully cold. He had been given a small room, with a bed, desk and small 'fresher unit, that adjoined his master's quarters. Absentmindedly, he wondered if he could get some tea and palmed the lock open.

Sitting down at the desk, Obi-Wan turned on the data terminal and shrugged out of his cloak. The room was warmer than the corridors and meeting room had been, making his nose run as he prepared the data cards. Alternately sniffling and wiping his nose on a sleeve, he put off blowing his nose. Halfway through the revision of the first set of reports, his nose started to tingle. A creeping, annoying feeling that bad been stifled and pushed back since the briefing session. He lifted his hands form the keypad and cupped them over his face, he couldn't very well sneeze all over the data terminal.

"Ahh, hechoo! Annchish, choo! Isshashoo! ahhshoo! uhh, huhh, hahh!" Obi-Wan opened his eyes slowly, not moving his hands and keeping his head in the bowed position. He could feel little, tickly sensations running up and down his nostrils that intensified as he sniffled. He stood up from the desk and walked over to the fresher in search of tissues, not moving his hands the whole time. He spied a box near the sink, grabbed a handful with one hand, and kept the other one over his nose. Obi-Wan gratefully blew his nose a few times and managed to relieve himself of some of the congestion in his nasal passages. Wiping his nose and hands, he took a few clean tissues and recovered his nose as rest of the sneezes, which he had been able to postpone, augmented.

"Ehhpshoo! EhhyihHashoo! shoo, shoo, ahhshoo!!" His nose still itching, Obi-Wan leaned against the wall. The healer had told him that he had a sensitive nose, but he assumed that was something he had outgrown. This head cold and sinus infection was wearing him down completely, sensitive nose or not. Obi-Wan washed his face and hands, wiped his nose and made his way back to the data terminal.

He was able to ignore the ache in his throat for a while, as long as he didn't swallow too much. He could even forget the painful tickle in his chest that threatened him with a coughing spasm every few minutes. And he was accustomed to sneezing and sniffling by now, so just kept the tissues ready for the inevitable. But, as he continued to put the data together, the sneezing and sleepiness started to blur his vision. Blinking hard, he stared at the screen as the glowing letters started to swim. The padawan rubbed his eyes, which only served to encourage the itchy puffiness. Exasperated by his weakness, Obi-Wan sighed deeply and set off a coughing spasm that raked through his chest. Forcing himself to turn away from the screen, he bent over in his chair and gasped through the fit until he could breathe normally again. His ears rang with the sound of his coughing and his head started to thrum with the dull pain of headache.

Obi-Wean rose from the desk chair, loosened his belt and removed it along with his sash. He sat down on the bad and slowly massaged his chest, right in the center where he could feel his muscles ache with each rasping breath he took. His hand felt cool on his skin and a shiver snaked its way up his spine. How good and comforting tea would feel, he groaned and bent to remove his boots. He considered taking a nap, at least he'd be warm for a bit; the data was complete, he had time. However, it would leave him groggy and disoriented. He certainly didn't need to be thought of as incompetent as well as useless at dinner tonight. Standing up hesitantly, Obi-Wan walked from the bed to the 'fresher sink, filled a tumbler with water, and went to go kneel beside the bed. He would meditate for a while and center himself. He could only manage a light trance, for the medication had made it hard for him to focus much of his energy into meditation. Letting the Force fill and surround him, Obi-Wan felt some of his discomfort ease and the tension in his frame melt.

Obi-Wan felt the touch in his mind a few seconds before he heard or saw anyone enter the room. Lazily opening his eyes, he greeted Qui-Gon with a half smile and quiet hello. His throat dry form breathing through his mouth and his knees aching from kneeling, a grimace of discomfort took the smile's place as he stood. Physically tired, but mentally refreshed, Obi-Wan thanked his master as Qui-Gon walked over to his apprentice and offered a hand to help him stand up.

// Padawan, come, let me examine you. //

Stifling a yawn, Obi-wan sat across from his master on the narrow bed. He started to rub his eyes, but recalling the adverse effect that had, ceased from doing it and closed his eyes. He felt his master slowly open his tunics and place one hand on his chest; the other rested on his shoulder.

// Obi-Wan? Are you all right, Padawan? How long were you in the trance? //

// Master, I'm fine, just a bit worn down. I've finished the reports, if you have more for me to do. //

// Yes, Obi-Wan, very good, I'll look at them later. Please, now tell me, how do you feel? Coughing and sneezing a lot? //

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and immediately was faced with the frown of worry on his master's face. In truth, he felt rather the same as he had earlier, with a slight increase in congestion in his head and chest. And he was tired, he felt as if he'd been tired for days now, despite all the sleep he'd gotten. Sliding his hand over his master's, he removed Qui-Gon's hand from his chest. Obi-Wan looked up at Qui-Gon.

// My Master, I shall be fine. Stay focused on your duties here, take care of me later. //

// You really don't look good. The trip did you more harm than anything else. But come, prepare for dinner. Observe our hosts well, Padawan, you can learn much about a people by their social practices. //

Qui-Gon rose from the bed and placed his hands on his apprentice's shoulders, as if intending to give Obi-Wan a quick hug and then leave. Instead, he sat back down on the bed and put his arms around his padawan as the young man shivered from fever.

"You're still sick, Obi-Wan, if you can't get through dinner, don't come. I cannot have you attend if you feel poorly, not with a clear conscience. Now, don't get annoyed with me, your well being is my responsibility." Heading off his apprentice's unvoiced protests, Qui-Gon rose and squeezed Obi-Wan's shoulder. "And do tell me if you feel too ill to remain at table, I'll bring you back here."

Obi-Wan smiled at his master and nodded. To argue with Qui-Gon would be futile, even if he were in the mood. He was beginning to feel drowsy and cranky, a combination that would make any discussion unbearable. Trudging into the 'fresher, he decided to make the best of what was going to be a miserable evening.

= = = = =

Obi-Wan wasn't sure whom the Ap'Ireneans were trying to impress that evening - the senators, consuls, ambassadors, Jedi or each other. It really didn't matter, however, there was enough evidence of expenditure to cover all possibilities. The young Jedi felt as if all his senses had been unmercifully bombarded when he entered the dining rooms. The blaring music and glaring lights made his head ache until he felt vaguely nauseous. Determined to remain at the dinner, he kept close to his master and politely spoke to various important personages when the situation demanded it. Ever word he had to utter rasped in his throat and it took every ounce of will power he had to speak. His antihistamine-decongestant serum prevented any uncontrollable coughing or sneezing fits, but as a trade off, he felt very sleepy and was fighting a losing battle with the urge to yawn. In addition, the decongestant half of the serum seemed to more effective, as his nose kept tickling and it got more and more difficult to inconspicuously rub his nose. As the other guests milled about and sipped cocktails, Obi-Wan took the opportunity to escape to a couch in one of the recesses of the room. Two consuls led his master into conversation and did not mark his absence.

Easing down into the seat cushion, Obi-wan led his body relax for a few minutes. the false sincerity and forced niceties pout him on edge. Taking out a handkerchief, he wiped his nose carefully, aware of how sore and irritated it must look. Glancing past a potted plant to assure he was mostly alone, he let the tickling sensation in his nose develop into the urge to sneeze. Handkerchief pressed tightly to nose and mouth, he disguised his actions.

"Ahh, hhaahihsshhoo! hishhoo, hishoo!! hechoo, ah, ahschoo!" Expelling a drawn out breath through his mouth, he let the feeling of relief wash over him. His eyes itched and he could tell more sneezes would need to come out, just not quite yet. Obi-Wan blew his nose softly.

"You don't look well at all, Padawan Jedi Kenobi."

Looking up blearily, Obi-Wan saw the senator from Ap'Irena standing before him and offering a smile and glass of water. Accepting the drink and motioning the man to sit next to him, Obi-Wan smiled in gratitude. The senator, Lucius Piso, was a man no older than his master, with short dark hair, gray eyes and a thoughtful expression. Obi-Wan sipped the water slowly and examined his companion. The man looked strained, as if the social gathering were more a duty than a pleasure.

"I am a bit under the weather, Senator. Just a head cold, though." Obi-Wan stopped to clear his throat and give his nose a good rub. "Please, ex-excuse, me, I, I think - oh, hah, hahh, hunschah! choo! huhh-snchoo!!" Forcing himself to hold back the sneezes, Obi-Wan stifled two more silently.

"Blessings, Jedi. You sound worse than you are willing to let on, young man. However, it doesn't look like your cold is going to get much in the way of duty." The senator finished the glass of wine he held and sighed. Noting the curious expression on the padawan's face, he elaborated as Obi-Wan recovered from the sniffles.

"The negotiations seem to be deadlocked. The threat of rationing and the intervention of the Republic Senate have convinced the people that acts of terrorism will not be tolerated. Yet, the ruling body will not stand to reason. You'll either get sent home in a day or two or end up here for months."

Before Obi-Wan could respond, the dinner gong sounded and the room emptied as the guests moved toward the dining table. The senator smiled wearily as his wife approached him, gave Obi-Wan a hand off the couch and bid the young man farewell. Obi-Wan woozily headed for the dining area and his seat next to Qui-Gon. The thought of going home was becoming increasingly inviting as the evening wore on.

At the diner table, the chatter of voices blended into one buzzing sound. Sitting next to his master, Obi-Wan inspected the appetizer that awaited him. Qui-Gon was talking to the woman on his right and had touched Obi-Wan's wrist in acknowledgment when he sat down. Picking at his food, he tried to make look like he'd eaten some of it by the time the first course was served. Miserable, he stifled a yawn and took a bite of the vegetables on his dish. He had to sneeze again, but didn't want to do so at the dinner table, even if nobody was paying attention to him. He focused on not sneezing, he thought very hard about not letting the tickle annoy him, but he didn't do very well. Before his nose could twitch or his face could look sneezy, he draped his handkerchief before his face.

"Uh, huh, hnchah! oh, hahhahchishh, hnnchh!! ahh, ahh, ahhun!choo!" The pressure of holding back the sneezes made the back of his throat hurt and sinuses pound. A few of the people sitting around him glanced up or blessed him quietly, but most ignored him or didn't notice. He felt his master send a wave of sympathy over their bond, a small action that made him feel better.

Clearing his nose as discreetly as possible, he tried to get back to his meal. His nose was runny and itchy, his eyes stung painfully. Ruefully he thought that his appearance must have convinced the other guests that he was contagious and prevented them from striking up chitchat with him. He was starting to not care.

Qui-Gon finished the captivating conversation on Ap'Irenean gardening clubs and turned to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan watched, a pitiful dazed expression on his face, as Qui-Gon slowly placed his fork and knife on his plate.

"Padawan, why don't you eat a little?" Qui-Gon placed his hand on Obi-Wan's arm. "You might feel a bit better?" He started to rub Obi-Wan's arm as the boy picked disinterestedly at a dinner roll.

"You aren't hungry at all, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon smiled and sighed as Obi-Wan lifted his eyes and smirked. "Well, yes, Obi-Wan, I know you can't taste anything, don't get cranky with me."

Qui-Gon spent the remainder of the evening talking to his apprentice, pointing out important people in the inner circles of society. Most of the information he passed on to his padawan was irrelevant gossip, told more to keep the young man awake and alert than anything else. He even managed to force a weak smile out of Obi-Wan once or twice. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan was getting more tired, sneezing and coughing more intensely as the dinner continued. When the dessert course was being served and guests drifted from seat to seat the Jedi master took the opportunity to leave his place at table. Making his excuses to their host, Qui-Gon claimed their early arrival in the morning and impending work as the reason for their exit. Yawning uncontrollably, Obi-Wan followed his master out into the corridor.

Once out of the dining room, Obi-Wan took out his handkerchief and blew his nose. Constant sniffles throughout dinner, aggravated by an itchy nose, had made him desperate to do so. The temporary relief felt immeasurably good, only to be replaced by the sinus tingling need to sneeze. Leaning against the wall he paused, too tired to call out to Qui-Gon or to hold back the sneezes any longer. In a display of resignation, he held a damp handkerchief before his face and hunched his shoulders slightly.

"Ahehh, hehhh, hehheheAhshoo! Ishoo! Ahhishhshoo, ahh, haashoo! hahhehshoo!" After the first few sneezes shook his frame, his hand dropped from his face. Breath unsteady and faint in his lungs, he stopped muffling the sneezes. "Ahh, Ehhtisshhh!! Hishhhhah! Ahh, hushCHOO! Yeiihhashoo!!"

Nose pushed into the shoulder of his cloak, Obi-Wan felt slow fingers tug the old handkerchief from his hand and press a folded, dry one there. Looking up, he brought the clean cloth to his nose and cleared his throat. Qui-Gon stood near him, one arm placed protectively around his shoulders.

"Ah, now, Padawan, you are going to need this I'm sure. All righ, now, back to your room." Qui-Gon easily guided his padawan, keeping a tight grip on Obi-Wan. Too tired to offer resistance, Obi-wan shuffled along, wiping his nose or coughing every few steps.

Having arrived at their rooms, Qui-Gon deposited Obi-Wan on the bed, with instructions to shower and retire for the night. Obi-Wan nodded sleepily as his master left, half-noting that Qui-Gon would be back soon to review the data reports. Running his hands through his hair and stretching, Obi-Wan dismissed the idea of showering as too bothersome. Removing his boots fell into the same category. The discomfort of sleeping in shoes and with a saber pushing into his side soon forced him rip off the articles before he chose to lie down.

A chest tightening, stomach clenching coughing fit forced him into a curled position before he relaxed. But the feeling after the spasm passed wonderful, quiet ease, a feeling that was too long in coming. Curling into a tighter ball atop the blankets, he immediately dozed off. Not for long, however. Something very rude nudged his shoulder. Shivering, he pushed it off and huddled in on himself even more. The nudger became even more rude and insistent. Obi-Wan whimpered and resisted the attempt to wake him up.

"Obi-Wan, wake up for me, just for a few minutes." Gentler than the touch he just felt, Qui-Gon's voice whispered in his ear. A quick tug to his braid brought him out of sleep, but only accompanied by a miserable groan, a yawn and a few little sniffs.

Obi-Wan, disgruntled at being woken up, opened his eyes reluctantly and cleared his throat. Staying curled up, trying to preserve warmth, he squinted at his master. Noticing the sleep clothes and damp hair, he eventually realized that it was not morning and that merely a short time had passed since he fell asleep. The mattress sank as Qui-Gon sat down next to him and tried to get him up. Groaning once more, Obi-Wan buried his face in the pillow to block out the light.

A more forceful pull of his arm persuaded him to sit up and face his master. Rubbing his nose with the heel of his hand, he leaned his head on Qui-Gon's shoulder and closed his eyes, not fully awake or aware.

"No, Obi-Wan, come my Padawan, at least change and take your medicine." Qui-Gon continued to speak softly, patting Obi-Wan's cheek. Obi-Wan blinked and looked about with confusion, not understanding why his master insisted on slapping him like that and then smiling about it.

"But, Master, tired, I'm," Obi-Wan mumbled in a muzzy voice, snuggling closer to his master. A heavy, warm arm surrounded his shoulders, which was very nice, but was soon followed by the removal of the soft, comfortable body that he was leaning on and the grasping of his shoulders. An annoyed grunt was Obi-Wan's reaction to the loss of his support and comfort.

"I know you're sleepy," straightening Obi-Wan so he wouldn't slump down, Qui-Gon answered, "but you can't sleep in those clothes, although by that look in your eye, I'd say you'd beg to differ."

Sleep clothes flopped into his lap and Qui-Gon walked away. Obi-Wan stared at the pile of clothing, dazed by the whole situation.

"Huh, hihShoo! Ahhshoo! eh, heeeh, ehhiTishhih!" Obi-Wan turned his head and sneezed wearily. Content to let his nose drip until a better option presented itself, he sniffled and let his head loll.

His master, who suddenly was wonderful, gentle instead of annoying, quickly and lovingly undressed him, slid his chilly body into comfortable sleep clothes and between warm blankets. He pressed a handful of tissues to his dripping nose and let him take as long as he needed to get rid of the sniffles. Obi-Wan clumsily accepted his medicine, swallowing quickly so he could find the curled up position again soon.

"Sleep now, Obi-Wan." Long fingers stroked his cheek, lingered on his forehead and feathered through his hair.

"Uhmm, Mahstah?" Obi-Wan muttered through a sleepy haze.

"Yes?"

"Reports're done?"

"Yes, good night Obi-Wan."

"Right, g'night."

= = = = =

Stars and planets streaked past the transparisteel window as Qui-Gon gazed out into space. Travelling back to Coruscant from Ap'Irena for the second time in one week, he had no desire to see the war-torn planet again. The past few days had been occupied by endless meetings and debates, all of which proved fruitless. And then Obi-Wan, poor Obi-Wan. His padawan had sat through all the meetings with a brave face and determination that could only make Qui-Gon smile. The young man staunchly sat through day long political conferences and eagerly assisted his frustrated master.

"A little too eagerly, perhaps," Qui-Gon muttered, thinking about the sneezes and sniffles that Obi-Wan still suffered through. The cold would linger for a while, at least until his padawan had a chance to rest properly. Yes, that's all Obi-Wan needed, some rest. At least Qui-Gon could ensure that his Obi-Wan would get well; he could take care of his apprentice once they arrived home again.

"You did your best, Master. It's not your fault they didn't want to be helped."

Qui-Gon turned to his padawan. The young man had approached so quietly he had not noticed him until the young man stood next to him. Face flushed from sleep, apparently Obi-Wan had just awoken.

"That will be for the Council to decide, Padawan. But for now, yes, it is enough to believe we did our best." Qui-Gon agreed with his padawan reluctantly. Putting his arm around Obi-Wan as the boy yawned and sniffled quietly, he frowned. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"I sensed your restlessness." Obi-Wan replied, rubbing his eyes. "I worry about you, Master. So quick to take care of me, and well."

At a loss for words, Obi-Wan waved his hand. Another yawn overtook him and he slumped against his master, edging the two of them toward the small passenger cabin. Qui-Gon smiled broadly and allowed his padawan to lead him to their rooms. There was a certain peace he found in caring for his padawan, exceeded only by the protective concern the young man held for him. And after the past week, he could do with a little peace.

finis