1: Homecoming

"Thank you for your time and effort, Master Jedi. Senator Fue will be safely transported to her home planet." A silvery-blue Jedi starfighter sped towards the Inner Rim. The pilot, a beautiful young woman with sea-green hair, smiled graciously at the holo-trasmission broadcasting on her dashboard.

"It's no problem, administrator," she replied in a calm voice to the holo-version of a middle-aged, pale-skinned human male. "I consider it an honor to rescue any self-respecting lady from the clutches of the Hutts." the man bowed in gratitude, then ended the transmission, his image fading away.

The young Jedi, whose name was Rowan, yawned shamelessly while she stretched her arms outward. As soon as she arrived at her father's apartment she planned on having a nice, hot sanisteam and a very, very extended nap. Her delicately sloped nose was in a permanent wrinkle of disgust; after freeing a senator from captivity on the Outer Rim, she was still reeking of slimy Hutt funk. Her R2 unit announced with a bleep that Coruscant was up ahead, at which Rowan gave a tired sigh.

"Well, looks like home sweet home at last, Rookie." Although she had used the green R2 unit for a while, she could never remember it's identification, so the poor droid was called a number of names, although "Rookie" was the most common. "Blip beep, boop boop beep!" The droid replied in high-pitched binary. "I know, I know," she replied, rolling her eyes upward. "But the Council asked me to rescue her last-minute!

As she cruised into the atmosphere of the bustling city-planet, she felt a familiar presence through the Force; a presence she had been anticipating for over a week.

"Papa!"

she cried, turning into a giddy little girl. Flying at maximum speed, Rowan zoomed around the heavy traffic, earning many a honk and alien curse.

Eventually, she came upon the magnificent Jedi Temple. Parking her Starfighter in the hangar, she leaped out of the cockpit, not bothering to take off her helmet. Reaching out with the Force, Rowan felt the connection between her and her father pulling taut like a rope, and she allowed it to guide her as she ran. Soon, a small party exiting a speeder came into view. Panting breathlessly with excitement, she came upon an older Jedi, what seemed to be his padawan, and a young boy. The young woman beamed, feeling a warm sensation bubbling up inside of her as she speedily approached them. "Papa! you're home!" Rowan cried, flinging her arms around the middle-aged jedi.

The two bonked heads, which hurt more for the father than the daughter.

"Why don't you take off your helmet first, Rowan, before you smother me to death?" he suggested with amusement.

"Oh," she replied, slipping it off of her head, "I didn't even think of it." The weary warrior, happy to see his daughter, smiled, his tired features breaking into a thousand pleasant wrinkles. His daughter grew more graceful and beautiful by the day, and he couldn't have been more proud of her accomplishments. It seemed only yesterday that he carried her in his arms, barely a month old, as she gargled and cooed with innocent joy and latched her arms around one large hand of her father's. Now, at eighteen, she was a full-fledged Jedi Ace, second in command only to the Admiral, and there was even talk of her joining the council in a long-term spot in a year or so. "Glad to see me in one piece?" she teased, her silver eyes sparkling with amusement. "I would certainly think so," he replied jokingly, tucking a stray piece of sea-green hair behind her ear. Rowan embraced the padawan warmly as well, then pulling away to examine him.

"No major damage, Obi?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"I am a bit hungry," he replied, "if that counts for anything. But how did the mission go? I heard they sprung it upon you last minute."

"Well, I had already been notified of the growing tensions between the Madam Senator and the Hutt Cartel, but she was kidnapped once I was already on my way to her home. After slicing up the remaining guard droids left behind, I had to turn around, play 'Chief Investigator' all around the system, and finally confront the Hutt in question."

"Did you negotiate first or simply attack?"

"I tried to negotiate with them; I sent them a holovid explaining myself for Void's sake, but no, they had to greet me with an assortment of bulky palace droids and frightening desert creatures."

"Wow," a wonder-struck voice said, "Are you a pilot?" At that moment, she finally noticed the little boy standing near her father, looking up at her in awe.

"Why, yes I am," she said kindly, squatting down to the child's height, "and a Jedi to boot." She stuck her hand out for him to shake. "My name is Rowan Jinn. I'm Master Qui-gon's daughter. And what might your name be, flyboy?"

"Anakin," the boy replied, "Anakin Skywalker. Master Qui-gon said that I'm gonna be a Jedi too! Maybe I'll even be a pilot like you!" Rowan, seeming not to hear, held his hand, her bright silver eyes staring deeply into his. Her sea-green eyebrows raised slowly, her muscles rapidly tightening, then relaxing, then becoming tight again in a constant cycle. Finally coming to herself, she looked pale and shaken, and her voice came out as breathless.

"V-very," she stuttered, "V-very nice to meet you, Anakin."

"We should get going," Qui-gon said, breaking the heavy silence. "The Council will be meeting soon. Good to see you, Rowan dear," And with that, the Jedi knight and Anakin walked off.

Staring after the boy, Rowan became lost in thought, and was surprised when someone gently tucked her hair behind her ear. She whirled around.

"Oh, Obi," she gasped, "It's just you." "Who were you expecting?" he asked playfully, gently tugging her long hair. His face then darkened. "Ro, you felt it too," Obi-wan said. "I could see it in your eyes." "What was his midi-chlorian count?" she mused, turning to clean off her dusty fighter. "We couldn't tell," The padawan replied. "It was off the charts, higher than even Master Yoda's."

"How intriguing," she murmured, finger-combing her ratty sea-green hair. Obi-wan cringed.

"Your hair needs a good brushing, Ro." Rowan sighed. Here we go again, she thought. "It has been a week since I've gotten to brush your hair," Obi-wan said.

"Don't you think we're getting a little too old for this?" she asked cautiously. "I mean, I can brush my hair on my own now."

Obi-wan shrugged. "I like it," he said simply. "Ever since we were younglings, you hated to brush your hair, and Master Qui-gon insisted that you did. So, I proposed that in exchange for you helping me pass hyper algebra, I would brush your hair once daily." Rowan chuckled gently.

"Well, you passed your hyper algebra a good long while ago, so technically the deal has expired."

"But," and Obi-wan put on his poor-destitute-padawan-boy face that worked on everyone except for her, "Maybe you could help me with my form II cadences? I stink at them, and hardly anyone studies that form anymore, except for you." Rowan pinched the skin between her eyebrows in frustration.

"Oh... Fine, big baby," she grumbled, "I'll help you with your lightsaber cadences. But I'm not doing anything else until I get that sanisteam." She put her hands on her hips stubbornly. Obi-wan sniffed the air, then pretended to dry-heave.

"Make that a hot sanisteam," he fake-gagged. "With lots of cleanser."