DISCLAIMER: I neither own nor claim to own Star Wars or anything associated with it. The stories belong to George Lucas; I am not making any money from using his characters. No infringement is intended.

Qui Gon had thought, when the bout of Hondarian Flu had hit them last year, that they had seen the worst. Though Padawan and Master had been bedridden for over a week, unable to keep down even the smallest sip of water, he comforted both himself and his thirteen-year-old apprentice with the fact that it didn't seem to get much worse than this.

While Jedi Master Jinn had never enjoyed eating his own words, he admitted that now seemed an appropriate time to do so. At least then, they had been able to communicate. At least then, both had been conscious. Qui Gon would have suffered a month of that horrible illness if it meant he didn't have to watch Obi Wan twitching and moaning, sweat pouring down his flushed face and Medical Droids buzzing around unable to do anything to help him.

(He is suffering badly. His sleep is fitful and confused and not restful at all.)

Qui Gon took a small, clammy hand in his and let his thumb move back and forth across the boy's trembling fingers. One of the Medical Droids placed a fresh, cool cloth atop Obi Wan's forehead.

"Has anything worked?" the Jedi Master asked.

"No," replied the Droid. "We bathe him three times a day and the fever will barely go down. When and if it does, it bounces back up within the hour."

Qui Gon sighed. His poor Padawan had a great many food and medicinal allergies, some to the most inconvenient things. For example, the one chemical compound essential to make all fever-reducing medications effective created a reaction worse than the illness in the young learner. So many times at official dinners the boy had had to refuse, or had discovered that it would have been better to refuse, the main course that he had taken to carrying around a "back-up meal" with him just in case. Qui Gon feared taking him to a planet where food was the main political symbol; it would be just Kenobi's luck to have the allergic reaction that started an intergalactic war.

Obi Wan groaned, a harsh, pitiful sound. Qui Gon squeezed his hand. Three days ago he had scooped a soaked and shivering, beaten, scraped and unconscious Padawan off the roof of a mining colony. Since then, the boy had yet to open his eyes. His aura was sickly and beaten; even a Jedi's power couldn't bring him back from wherever he was.

"Has his condition worsened any?" Qui Gon asked.

"No," replied the Droid."His injuries have begun to heal nicely, with no infections. Depending on how the illness progresses, most of them should fully heal within the next two weeks."

Depending on how the illness progresses. Assuming he doesn't die, he'll be fine.

(Kenobi will not die. But his illness will worsen before it improves.)

Qui Gon took comfort in that. At least the boy would survive.

Obi Wan shifted in his sleep, his face twitching.

"His pulse is rising," the Medical Droid informed him, "He must be dreaming again."

The Padawan in question muttered something indecipherable under his breath, as if in confirmation.

(He isn't dreaming anymore, he's seeing things. Painful things. Things that are difficult to see. He's about to-)

Obi Wan gasped, making everyone but Qui Gon jump. He turned his head back and forth and shifted uncomfortably, fists clenching and unclenching, his facial expression tense. The cloth slid off his forehead. The boy's breathing grew quicker as the Medical Droid announced that his pulse continued to climb.

"He's hallucinating again." The robot placed a metal hand on the boy's damp forehead. "Fever dreams. There's nothing we can do except wait it out."

The pale, clammy hand in Qui Gon's tensed and relaxed several times in succession, as if Obi Wan was trying without success to move it.

(The visions he sees frighten him.)

But what of? Qui Gon wondered. The past, the present, or the future?

(The future. Things which are definite and things which are only possibilities.)

Qui Gon squeezed his apprentice's hand. A surge of adrenaline raced through his system when Obi Wan suddenly grew rigid.

(PAIN HE'S IN PAIN AND TERROR AND DENIAL AND GRIEF AND PAIN AND)

"Noooooooooo!" Obi Wan cried. Though his voice was raspy and quiet, his eyes were scrunched and his fists clenched. His weak cry had terror behind it. He broke off his yell, panting. His two hands were tightly clenched.

(Death.)

"Obi Wan," Qui Gon whispered. "Enough of this, little one. Come back to me."

Obi Wan began to shift again. He tossed and grunted and moaned, breathing through clenched teeth. Qui Gon stroked his forehead.

"No," the boy whimpered. "No." Tears began to roll down his face. Qui Gon's heart wrenched at the sight of the young learner sobbing in his sleep.

"Padawan," he said gently, "Come back to me."

At last, the boy's breathing slowed and he slipped into the quiet, even rhythm of sleep.

Qui Gon spent the rest of the afternoon by his padawan's side. Aside from the occasional stir or hoarse groan, Obi Wan made no changes. By sunset, Qui Gon was exhausted, hungry and afraid to leave his Padawan's side for fear of another vision while he was away. Droids didn't understand enough about The Force to accept that Obi Wan's episode was more than a fevered hallucination.

(Yoda is approaching. He has come to speak with you.)

Qui Gon stroked his student's hand as he listened to the swish of the doors and the tapping of the old Master's wooden cane on the tile. He didn't look up.

"No better is he?"

"No better, no worse," said Qui Gon, his voice betraying his weariness. "Sometimes he can hear me speaking to him, and sometimes he can't."

"Very ill your padawan is, Qui Gon. But help him you cannot by staying here. Eat and rest you must."

Qui Gon opened his mouth to protest, searching for a way to explain himself without offending the Medical Droids.

"Heard about his nightmares, I did," said Yoda, clambering onto a stool next to Qui Gon. "Stay with him, I will until you return."

Qui Gon hesitated.

"My student, Kenobi once was," Yoda reminded him. "Care for him I will. Tell you if there are more visions."

Giving Obi Wan's hand one last squeeze, Qui Gon nodded. The boy moaned softly, as if sensing his teacher leave, but quieted when Yoda took his hand.

"His heart rate is rising again," said the Medical Droid to Yoda. "He may be hallucinating again. Speak to him. He may be able to hear us, but my voice won't have the affect yours has. A familliar voice is always comforting to the sick."

(He is far too lost in his visions to see or hear anything of the present. There are things he needs to see before he awakes.)

Yoda sandwiched Obi Wans large human hand in his two tiny green ones. The young padawan's face twitched. His brow furrowed.

(Pain. He sees pain in the future. Loss. Suffering. Failure. Grief.)

"Must know…" Obi Wan whispered, stirring. The Medical Droid placed a cool cloth on his forehead. "…how…can't watch anymore…don't believe…how…"

(The loss of this futuristic other is great. And Obi Wan will feel responsible. Failure. Pain. Suffering. Death.)

Yoda closed his eyes. Such a hard burden for one so young.

(But a necessary one. Essential for the restoration of balance.)

"Send me…" the boy muttered, louder this time. He seemed heavily distressed. "…can't… c-can't kill…. he's…like a brother…please…can't…a brother to me."

(Pain. Suffering. Loss. Disbelief. Failure. Pain. Death. Betrayal. Loss. Grief. Failure. Pain.)

Obi Wan's groan made even the Droid, whose emotions were all artificial, wince – or bring his metal features as close to a wince as he could.

(This boy is in so much pain. And when it truly happens it will be far worse.)

Yoda stroked his hand.

"Who is he talking about, I wonder?" said the Medical Droid. "Master Jinn, perhaps?

Yoda shook his head. "If of Qui Gon he spoke," he replied, "The word 'brother' he would not use."

"Then do you have any idea who?"

Not yet. Yoda shook his head again. Obi Wan's shifted and groaned, his fists clenching.

"Young master Kenobi," said the droid. "These are dreams. They aren't real. Come back to us."

"You have done that yourself," was the boy's whispered reply.

"What did he say?" asked the droid.

"Hear you, he cannot," said Yoda. "No good can speaking to him do."

The Medical Droid, who clearly didn't like being instructed in his area by a religious sentient, huffed and wet the ailing padawan's flushed face.

"You…" the boy whispered, the grief rolling out of him in torrents now. Even the droid could see the agitation in his expression. "…you were…you…destroy…supposed…balance…not…not…not leave…leave…" the boy was panting now. "Dark…darkness. Darkness!"

His last word was so loud, without a trace of illness's mark, that the droid jumped. Yoda showed no signs of surprise. Nor did he flinch when Obi Wan's eyes flew open and the boy sat bolt upright.

"You were my brother, Ani!" he cried, fixing his gaze on the far wall but seeing no one. A tear rolled down his cheek. "I loved you!"

And as quickly as he had awoken, the fourteen year old Padawan collapsed. His breath came in quick short gasps, but the rest of his body was completely limp as Yoda laid him back down. He and the droid were silent for a moment.

(The visions have gone for now. But there are still more to come.)

"His pulse is dropping again," the droid observed quietly.

When Qui Gon returned not long afterwards, Yoda and the Medical Droid told him what had happened. Obi Wan's master didn't recognize any more than they had, though he and Yoda shared a thought when the droid was busy checking Obi Wan's vital signs.

He is seeing the future. Hard times are to come.

All three of them stayed in the room until after sunset, when the Night Droid entered the room to relieve the regular one, and Yoda decided with a firm tone that the two Jedi should rest as well. He would have none of Qui Gon's protests.

"You rest, little one," Master Jinn told his Padawan before he left. "I will be back for you in the morning."

And so he was. The Night Droid noted no significant changes in the boy, though he had been stirring and muttering off and on throughout the night, as if addressing someone only he could see.

"Out of curiosity," the Night droid asked as Qui Gon sat down. "Who is Luke?"

Qui Gon looked up. "Who?"

"Luke. Someone young Master Kenobi mentioned periodically. The boy seemed address him most of the time. Telling him stories, comforting him, pleading with him…clearly somebody to whom he feels close. A brother or father perhaps?"

(Your padawan is seeing the future.)

Qui Gon shook his head. "I know of nobody with that name."

"Curious," the Night Droid replied. "Very curious."

Qui Gon grunted in reply.

You are turning out to be a fine young apprentice, he thought with a smile. I've no doubt that someday you'll become a great teacher. Perhaps a better one than I am. I hope this Luke appreciates it.

He took his Padawan's hand and did not let go of it until well after the regular Medical Droid had returned.

"His temperature has not changed," the droid informed Qui Gon. Obi Wan grunted softly. "I cannot tell how long it will take for his"

(He's having another dream.)

"fever to break."

Obi Wan stirred, his fists clenched tightly.

"Master…" he whispered, "Master of Evil…"

The room remained silent, save the Padawan's soft grunts and quick gasps as he shifted from side to side on the bed. Qui Gon could feel those clammy fingers tensing and relaxing inside his hand.

He whispered something neither of them could catch.

"Youcan'twinDarth. IfyoustrikemedownIshallbecomemorepowerfulthanyoucouldpossiblyimagine."

"What did he say?" asked the droid.

"I don't know."

Obi Wan drew in a sharp breath. His brow furrowed, his closed eyes squinted and every muscle in his body tensed. For a moment, he was completely still; Qui Gon felt a prickle of fear travel up his spine.

"His pulse is spiking," the droid observed. "Much higher than this and he could suffer serious heart failure."

You said he wouldn't die.

(And so he won't.)

"Master Kenobi," said the droid, "Wake up. These are hallucinations. They are not real."

Qui Gon was silent as he stroked his Padawan's hand. There was another tense, silent second before the young learner let out a rush of breath so loud the Medical Droid started. Obi Wan visibly relaxed every muscle in his body - for one panicky moment, Qui Gon feared the boy had died - and turned his head towards his master. After a moment of silence, the boy opened his eyes. He blinked a few times, groaning, before fixing his gaze on his master for the first time since their return to Courasant. Qui Gon smiled.

"Good morning, little one," he said gently, stroking Obi Wan's damp forehead. "Nice to see you awake."

"Master?" Obi Wan rasped. His feeble voice quickly dissolved into a hacking cough.

"Do not speak," whispered Qui Gon. "Save your strength. You're safe now. We're back on Courasant."

The boy nodded, closing his eyes.

"Master Jinn," said the Medical Droid, sounding thunderstruck. "Although by a very small margin, for the first time of its own accord, his temperature has started to drop."

Qui Gon smiled, placing the frail hand of his once again slumbering apprentice atop the bed.

"So I was talking in my sleep?" Obi Wan asked incredulously. "I've never done that before, have I?"

"No," Qui Gon replied, opening the door to his apprentice's room. "Never that I know of."

"Strange."

"Very." The older Jedi helped Obi Wan to his bed, where the boy closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, breathing deeply.

"Such a short walk shouldn't have taken so much out of me," said Obi Wan.

"Despair not, young one." Qui Gon brushed his student's cheek. "You've been injured and very, very ill. Even a Jedi needs time to recover."

Obi Wan looked uncomfortable. "I'm…I'm sorry for running off back on the mining colony, Master. I really thought I could handle them alone. Thank you…for saving my life."

"Learning your limits is a difficult lesson, Obi Wan. But every Padawan does it. I know I did, and someday, yours will too."

Obi Wan smiled. There was a silence.

"What was I saying?"

"Broken sentences, phrases. You were speaking to someone, someone who had caused you grief. Whatever you were seeing carried a lot of pain with it."

"So my future will be painful and full of grief," said Obi Wan dryly. "That's encouraging."

"A Jedi's life is hard, my young apprentice. You knew that."

"I did. I do. I just wish I could remember more."

"What you remember?"

Obi Wan thought for a moment. "Barely anything at all. I remember waking up...a feeling that seemed strange. Like big had just happened but I didn't remember what it was. I felt…" he paused. "I felt…" Obi Wan looked at his master, and said the last thing Qui Gon expected him to say.

"At peace."