The mist dissipated as they walked up the path. Qui-Gon glanced over at his former Padawan. Something in his chest tightened.

This was not a good idea.

The Council was always chiding him for his lack of common sense, his insistence on a superior connection to the Living Force. Where the esteemed board saw blatant flouting of their sacred rules, he saw the truth: the will of the Force. He followed that current, instead of swimming against it.

But in this, in asking Obi-Wan to stay with him, Qui-Gon knew he was not trying to satisfy any mystic demands. He had simply looked at the younger man, seeing him closer than he had in years, and his heart overruled all inner objections. He was making things exceptionally more difficult for himself, and it would have been better if some other Knight had come, someone with whom Qui-Gon did not share years of history, years more of wordless distance.

He did not know if Obi-Wan would demand an explanation for the void in their friendship, because, he realized, he did not know Obi-Wan at all anymore. How had the demands of Knighthood and the war changed the kind and mild man he had taught?

"You are...feeling well these days, Obi-Wan?" He cringed inwardly. Being alone on a mountaintop did not help improve social grace.

Obi-Wan just smiled at him. "Yes, thanks. You?"

Qui-Gon held aside an overgrown bush so they could pass. "On forced sabbatical but other than that, fine."

A gentle laugh. "I take it you and the Council have not warmed to each other since I was Knighted?"

"We remain cold and distant, as I prefer." Qui-Gon quipped.

Obi-Wan misstepped and nearly slid on the rocks beneath them.

Shavit. He had not meant—-

"Whatever gets the job done, I suppose." Obi-Wan responded after a moment, composure unruffled. "So you must have impressed the locals. Or are they the sort of beings who confuse Jedi with gods?"

Qui-Gon smirked. "Somewhere in between. They know I'm human but maintain that I am magic."

"I remember being thirteen years old and thinking the same thing."

Qui-Gon knew it was meant in kindness. It still hurt in a way he could not afford to examine. "And then you got to know me better and came to your senses."

"Ahhh," Obi-Wan shook his head, smiling, "According to Master Windu following my mission to Kashyyyk, I am utterly without sense."

Qui-Gon stopped to wipe the gathering sweat from his brow. He wondered if it was possible to finish his hike without breathing at all. "If that is the case," he responded softly, "there is little hope for the rest of us."

"And how is Anakin faring under your tutelage? I admit I was surprised when the Council did not send him to retrieve you."

No, this was not a good idea. "Anakin is fulfilling his potential. He has made me very proud."

Obi-Wan nodded, smiling again with his mouth closed. "I'm glad to hear it."

"Have you given any thought to taking a Padawan of your own? I imagine any initiate would clamor at the chance to be apprenticed by The Negotiator."

His companion groaned. "I do not encourage that damnable sobriquet. And I'm not on Coruscant often enough to visit the Initiate's Wing. I'm lucky to visit my own bed."

"You're lucky to still have your head. We weren't meant to be soldiers. We are peacekeepers, even if the Council doesn't quite remember." Qui-Gon was always on the verge of defection now, as the Order became less and less recognizable. He had stayed for Anakin. For Obi-Wan, even if they were strangers. "But I know you don't exactly have a choice in the matter."

Obi-Wan stiffened. "We always have a choice, Master. We aren't slaves."

"Or clones." Qui-Gon countered. "Here, turn here."

They wove through heavy brush and climbed a steep hill, the momentary tension eased by the shared exertion.

When the humble shelter appeared, Qui-Gon chanced to speak again. "It is good to hear you call me Master." The air was cooler up here.

Obi-Wan wore an imperceptible expression. He had learned to do that long before, back when he was still an apprentice, as Qui-Gon recalled. Anakin could never quite hide his emotions behind the Jedi mask like that.

"What else would I call you?" Obi-Wan asked.

Qui-Gon did not know how to answer that question, and so he didn't. The years of separation had made him clumsy, where once there had been an ease of closeness, of anticipating the other's next word. For that, he could blame no one but himself. "I must warn you, the accommodations are rather...cozy."

"Ah yes, the universal euphemism for small and run-down." Obi-Wan surveyed the little hovel, with its crumbling wall, roof half-eaten by rain and time.

"It's not as bad as it looks." Qui-Gon assured him. Certainly they had made do with much worse, back when they were Master and Padawan. "For example, there are no bladder-bug infestations."

Obi-Wan dried his forehead with his sleeve. "Are you sure about that?"

"After the mission to Akiva, how could I forget?"

But of course it would seem to anyone Qui-Gon had forgotten many things, or chosen to forget them. Obi-Wan was too polite to remark on that. He was gazing out at the view, tree tops and silent mountains, all dappled in the fresh sun. "Perhaps I should get the Council to send me on sabbatical."

Qui-Gon laughed. "Just irritate them for a good half a century, and they will."

In the morning light, Obi-Wan's eyes were blue like clear water, or a cloudless sky, and Qui-Gon could see beneath the necessary veneer of Knighthood, to the still-young man beneath it. He remembered now that sunshine made auburn hair glow red and blonde at the tips. "Come to think of it, I'm surprised it's taken them this long to send you away." Obi-Wan drawled, "Except, I think Master Yoda is secretly in your corner. At least, that's how it always seemed to me."

Obi-Wan standing beside him while he received his rebukes and punishments before the Council, his proper and obedient apprentice routinely mortified by Qui-Gon's defiance. "It must have been a relief to strike out on your own, and follow the rules for once." Qui-Gon smiled, leading them up to the cabin's door.

"It was awhile before I was deemed fit to be on my own. I didn't feel much relief when I finally was."

Force. Qui-Gon wondered if it would be inappropriate to fall to his knees now and beg for forgiveness, in exchange for no more honest answers. I should have been the one to help you when you weren't ready. I ran away. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. "Well, it would appear you have flourished in your role. Yoda may look the other way when it comes to my exploits, but you have always been one of his favorites."

"Yoda doesn't have favorites," Obi-Wan demurred. "Any more than a Master has a favorite Padawan."

"I can confidently say my own Master had a favorite. I can confidently say it wasn't me." Qui-Gon swung open the old wood door. "Here we are. Now that you're here, I believe the place has reached maximum capacity."

It was only a partial joke.

"The cabin was originally built by a hermit, the villagers say. He got tired of people and moved up here, only coming down to gather food and complain."

Obi-Wan surveyed the cramped space and looked at Qui-Gon. "Sounds...familiar."

"Now, now," Qui-Gon took a few steps into the kitchen, gathering supplies for tea, "If I lived here, I would have nothing to complain about. There's a chair."

One chair, the legs beginning to succumb to mildew. Obi-Wan stood. "Where is the 'fresher?"

Qui-Gon glanced up, holding in a smile. "Does it seem like there's room for a 'fresher in here? I like to think nature provides wherever we need it."

Obi-Wan grumbled something about "uncivilized" and walked out the door.

Qui-Gon returned to his task, ignoring the slight tremor in his hands

The needs of his body taken care of, Obi-Wan lingered outside the cabin. Bikko was undeniably beautiful, suffused with a simple calm, but he could borrow none of it to soothe his nerves. What had he gotten himself into? He was supposed to retrieve Qui-Gon and move on. That would have been the easier thing to do. Small talk on the ship, and then they would part ways on Coruscant, return to their separate lives. Now he would need to find days' worth of pleasantries to exchange with the man who had spent years completely avoiding him.

No, not completely. There had been a few notes in the early months, while he was still recovering, but even those had petered off as, Obi-Wan assumed, Qui-Gon grew busier with Anakin.

He asked me to stay. He didn't have to. He could have walked away.

A petty voice somewhere in his depths answered, He is good at walking away.

But he was not a child, far from it, and he would not entertain such thoughts. He would enjoy spending this rare time with the man who raised him, and leave the spirits of old hurt where they belonged.

He watched birds gather on a tree branch, marveling that their shared song sounded different from the songs of other birds, every bird on every world having their own unique music.

"Do you still take your tea plain?" Qui-Gon asked, handing his guest a chipped and discolored cup. There was no common area, so they sat cross-legged on his bedroll, dirt-dusted boots left by the door.

"Yes, thank you." Obi-Wan took a sip and made a satisfied sound in the back of his throat. "That's very good."

Qui-Gon lifted an eyebrow. "That is the strongest brew of mudleaf. I expected at least a shudder."

Obi-Wan drank deeply and smiled. "Mudleaf is on the more powerful end of mild. Lately I've been enjoying pepper tea, when I can find it."

"Your tastes have certainly changed." Qui-Gon said.

"I wouldn't say changed as much as evolved." Obi-Wan drained the cup and set it beside him. "I'm an old man now, after all."

"In that case, I'm ancient." Qui-Gon noticed the red veins streaking through the whites of the Knight's eyes, the subtle slump of his shoulders as he leaned against the wall. "It would not offend me whatsoever if you rested, Obi-Wan. I know the journey here is laborious. We can catch up after you've had some sleep."

"I haven't been sleeping much, as of late." Obi-Wan told him. "But I would take more tea, if you can spare it."

Qui-Gon started to rise, but Obi-Wan stilled him with a hand on his leg. "I didn't mean for you to get it, Master. But thank you."

He watched Obi-Wan stand at the sink, struck by the surreal quality of the moment, having his old Padawan here, where he had expected to be left alone. "Why aren't you sleeping? The rigors of war?"

Obi-Wan sat again, holding the steaming cup between his hands. "Self-training, I suppose. Exhaustion dulls the senses."

"That would appear to be an argument in favor of more sleep." Qui-Gon pointed out.

"If you train your body to become less reliant on physical comforts, you sharpen your connection to the Force. Or so, that is the theory." Obi-Wan explained. "So far I've only replaced some sleeping sessions with meditation."

"Even Yoda sleeps," Qui-Gon reminded him. "I admit to favoring the unorthodox, but this seems rather...extreme, Obi-Wan."

"War is defined by constant extremes. I simply want to be as prepared as I can be."

Qui-Gon detected an edge of irritation in Obi-Wan's tone. I will send him flying out of here before midday. "I can understand that. Though while you're here, you needn't be so...prepared. Bikko is a peaceful world. The people are generous, though they keep their distance."

"Just your type then." Obi-Wan said, and went to set his empty cup in the sink.

"Obi-Wan-

I am sorry I cannot be there. Healer Che says you are improving. I am glad.

Qui-Gon."

"Master,

I cannot hold a data pad or speak very well yet. I am writing you with the help of Healer Eerin. Thank you for contacting me. Yes, I am improving. The healers think I will make a full recovery, in time. I hope you are doing well, and Anakin also. I am sorry you are not here. Master Yoda said I have been Knighted and my braid is gone. Did you cut my braid? I wish I had been aware of it. I wanted to thank you for all you have done for me. I hope I can thank you in person soon.

Sincerely,

Obi-Wan."