Yep, another one-shot.

A warning: This is a little something that is, in reality, pretty much nothing at all. It serves no grand purpose and has no solid point. And, most importantly (or not) it's simply the result of me missing Qui-Gon, and my belief that our two heros' relationship was, at its core, solid and good - and that Anakin's fall was the offspring of numerous things none of them could have changed (and, of course, some things they could have - but then again, all the interesting stuff wouldn't have happened had Anakin sorted through his blasted hardheadedness and realized Obi-Wan would understand the business with the Tusken Raiders better than almost anyone else, now would it?).

As always, a lack of purpose notwithstanding, I really hope someone enjoys this (:

Disclaimer: Still don't own any of it. All credit belongs to George Lucas and his brilliant team of geniuses.

"How often do you think about him?"

Obi-Wan Kenobi, Master of the Jedi Order and Councilor of its High Council, started. His head rolled imperceptibly to the side - not enough to be noticed by the still figure lying beside him, but enough to unpleasantly scrape the back of his head. He was not on the most comfortable of… mattresses.

"Whom?"

On his right, the until-then unmoving figure stirred. "Qui-Gon."

It was no longer as difficult to hold back the inherent flinch as it'd been eleven years ago - hell, five years ago. He had learned since then, had succeeded in accepting the unimaginable fact that his master was dead - that he was one with the Force - and that it was, at least partially, his own fault.

After all, there was no death. There was only the Force.

Nonetheless, acceptance or not, the pain was still there. He doubted it would ever truly go away. Constantly at the back of his mind, at that impregnable corner he saved specifically for people like Qui-Gon Jinn, Tahl, and even Siri and Satine, it never went away. Never dimmed. Became more manageable, true. More prone to co-exist with the rest of what defined him, granted. He didn't griev e- hadn't done so in a long time; acceptance, at the very least, helped with that - but he still hurt.

Deep down - probably less than he'd like to admit, he grudgingly acknowledged - he still ached for the man that had been master, teacher, and even a parent of sorts. Family.

And for the fact that the man next to him - and he was a man, as hard as it still was to let that fact in - was as much family as his own master had been, he owed him a truthful answer.

At the very least, as heartfelt a reply as he could manage.

"More often than I should."

That hadn't been enough. He could sense it. Even if he couldn't, he knew the younger man well enough to do so without the Force. Eleven years of constant companionship - save a few… obstacles here and there - would do that.

The silence that crept back then was welcome, and not only by him, Obi-Wan guessed. Literally on the ground, gazing at the clean, dark-blue sky of night and the tiny points of glowing light which decorated it in a beautiful pattern that was as part of the Force - Living and Unifying alike - as the rest of life-forms scattered through the galaxy, they could allow themselves to relax.

Somewhat.

The rigid ground beneath his back was not comfortable. It was knitted with stones that varied in size and pointedness, and Obi-Wan found himself pulling both hands to a different position, so that both his wrists were under the back of his head, one set of fingers grasping the wrist of the opposite hand, and wondering why he'd previously decided to simply rest his head on the rather hostile ground.

A mental dry smirk made itself known. He'd never truly comprehended - never internalized - Qui-Gon's love of the Living Force. The Force simply spoke to him in different ways, and for Stars' sake, he did not care for the numerous microscopic life-forms which had declared the soil and dust on which he reclined their home.

Force, he missed Qui-Gon.

Banishing the memories that evoked, he fixed his eyes upon a particular glowing point of light and set his mind on guessing which it could possibly be.

This time, it was he who spoke. After all, he could multitask.

"Why do you ask?"

The other man shrugged. "We never really talked about it. I'm curious."

He raised a wry eyebrow. The tiny point of light did not make a reply of any kind. "Curious."

"Yep."

Of course he was. "Anakin, you know me well enough to know I know you well enough to believe that."

"Sure I do."

"Well, then?"

"Well what?"

He rolled his eyes, for Anakin could not see the gesture. "You cannot possibly have lost the train of our… eh, conversation, in the last ten seconds."

"Twenty."

"You counted?" A gentle snort. "A miracle."

"I can count, Master!"

Obi-Wan smiled. The tiny point of light did not smile back.

Content to stay quiet, he shifted a bit so that a particularly irritating stone did not poke rather insistently at a sensitive spot in his lower back. Anakin would speak up. He obviously regretted having asked the initial question, but it was out in the open, and his young friend was not one who found it easy to bury feelings - even when he actually tried.

True enough, the silence did not last. "I just… wondered."

Narrowing his eyes at the unfamiliar undercurrents of Anakin's tone, his thinned his lips - and said nothing.

The other man carried on, his voice firm and yet oddly hesitant. "I dream about him sometimes, you know."

"Really." He wasn't surprised.

"Yep. Not nightmares, mostly. Just dreams. Sometimes it's that moment when I first saw him in Watto's shop-" his voice still changed whenever he spoke of the Toydarian slave owner, filled with resentment and… something more, something that should not be there- "with Padme and Jar-Jar at his heels." He stopped for a second, and the sound of air being inhaled and exhaled reached Obi-Wan's ears. "I didn't give him much thought at the moment, ironically enough. Just another customer, buying another part or machine I fixed. At least, not until I saw the lightsaber."

"He showed you his lightsaber?" Obi-Wan asked, surprised.

Odd, how they had never spoken of this before. By all rights, they should have. But things had always gotten in the way… and it just never happened.

"Not exactly showed me," Anakin chuckled darkly. "He sort of… raised his hand, exposing his utility belt."

Obi-Wan laughed softly. Sadly. "Sloppy of him."

You should be mindful of your surroundings, Master.

"You can say so. On the other hand, Master, I was pretty short back then."

"That's one way to put it."

"I'm not even going to comment on that."

"Well, well. Another miracle."

They laughed together then, nothing more than a quiet mutual chuckling, but it felt - good. "Carry on," Obi-Wan said. Even though it rattled that corner in his mind. Even though a small part of him didn't want Anakin to.

The younger man did. "Any way you look at it, I had no idea the man I'd just glimpsed before Watto ordered me to do this thing or the other was the man who would save me."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "He didn't save you, Anakin. You saved yourself." He knew enough about that podrace - about the Force, and about Anakin himself - to be positive about that, at least.

"No, Master. You weren't there. You didn't see him during that dinner with Jar-Jar, Padme and my mom-" his voice wavered, hardened- "and you didn't see him just before the Boonta Eve podrace." He hesitated, then sighed, unwillingness dripping from him in waves. For someone so prone to wearing his heart on his sleeves, Obi-Wan had observed, his former padawan was at times so loathe to speak when it concerned it. "And then there was that moment after Kitster - he was my friend back then - first let slip that I never won a race before and said that this time I would. Qui-Gon - he just gripped my shoulders, squeezed, and said Of course you will." He let out a small, shuddering breath. "So simple. So seemingly unimportant, but…" his voice trailed off.

It wasn't been hard to guess what Anakin had wanted to say. "It was the first time someone believed in you utterly and unwaveringly," Obi-Wan finished for him, softly, eyes still fixed on that glowing point of light.

Neither of them mentioned the exception of Anakin's mother. Obi-Wan preferred not to raise the topic of her if he could help it, knowing it hurt his friend, hoping Anakin would initiate the conversation - would come to him willingly.

"Yeah."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly, then abruptly - before he could change his mind - rolled halfway around and propped his head on his open palm, elbow firm against the hard ground. He paid it no notice, simply considered his former padawan's face.

In the scarce light offered by the barely seeable moon and the stars above them, the lines of Anakin's face were still hard. Set. His head was rested on his open palms, fingers tangled in each other, and his eyes determinedly away from Obi-Wan's, fixed on some point above them.

"Anakin."

Neither muscle nor eye moved. "Obi-Wan."

If he had a credit for every time he fought against rolling his eyes in front of Anakin - even for every time he succeeded - he'd be as rich as the head of the banking clan.

Leave alone the fact that Jedi did not have possessions; that thought alone was revolting.

"I miss him every day."

That snapped Anakin's blue eyes over to Obi-Wan's. The younger man had obviously not expected that. A rueful smile spread on the Jedi Master's face as if on its own accord. "I may not think of him every day, but I do miss him." He breathed, realizing he was surprised at himself. This was not easy for him to think about, let alone utter aloud, but something in him urged him to do so - that Anakin needed to hear it.

And, perhaps, that he needed to hear it.

"Wonder how things would have been now had he lived," Anakin said, a familiar childish playfulness tugging at the corner of his mouth.

A little bird whispered in Obi-Wan's ears that said playfulness was more for his benefit, to somehow soften the ache and stab of guilt his young friend suspected that brought. Anakin was smart enough, and then some, to guess all on his own that this wasn't the first time Obi-Wan heard that sentence. That he wondered himself, from time to time.

And though he would never say so aloud, he was thankful.

"Oh, that is easy, former padawan of mine," Obi-Wan said, rolling to his back once again with a muffled groan. "You'd be in this exact position, only my former master would be lying in my stead."

"And where would you be, oh former master of mine?" Anakin asked smugly, curious.

"That is just as easy, unfortunately. I'd be lying dead in a pit somewhere."

Obi-Wan almost laughed at the comicality of the messily entwined alarm and self-satisfaction that brought, as if Anakin wasn't sure which he was feeling. Eventually he settled for something nearly as amusing: a grudging, "That's a bunch of bantha poodoo, Master."

"Language, Anakin," he chastised. "And really? What about all those five times you-" he brought up two fingers of each hand and did a little, mocking quotation mark in the air, then placed them back in their former position behind his head- "saved my life?"

"Six."

"Five."

Obi-Wan didn't need to look to know Anakin was rolling his eyes. "Sure, Master. Anyway, there would simply be two of us to save your sorry arse. Imagine the positive outcome."

He winched. "Oh, I am." More visits to the healers. The horror.

They kept on in the exact same position, each lost in his own thoughts and united in the other's, until they were called by Cody, coming to let them know the Republic cruiser was mere standard minutes from arriving.

And somehow, despite another horribly familiar and nauseating day on the front lines, they found their hearts had eased… a little.

For now, it was enough.