(A/N) Been way to long since I've worked on this, I apologize. I hope you enjoy this chapter with hopefully more to come.

She sat, watching Qui-Gon be totally enthralled with the green duri-plasti spoon that he could levitate to his mouth before dropping it with a splash into his milk. He laughed, a high-pitched tinkling sound, looking at her with her own pale blue eyes where she had to smile back at him, even though she was worried. Obi-Wan was late; and Obi-Wan was never late. He had contacted her hours before, saying he was leaving from Coruscant, but generally the trip took only slightly over a single hour, and the trip through security thirty extra minutes for him.

Qui-Gon had seemed a bit quieter; she thought maybe he was comprehending more of what she said now, the way he would blink at her, as if he knew what she was saying always seemed so aware. Perhaps he knew his father was late, although she had to say that he was distracting himself quite well with his cereal. He had taken to trying to feed himself; after he had started crawling the month before during Obi-Wan's two weeks of leave, he had started gaining independence perhaps the best way that a baby could. She could hardly believe those two weeks, blissful, perfect weeks, had been a month ago.

Since then, she had only seen him over comlink; and a rare letter written on flimsi that he had sent to her on a freighter of clones that were being sent all over the galaxy to aid in the humanitarian effort of the Republic. It had been strange, she thought, seeing them in casual clothing, weaponless, their only markers of war being that each of them looked veritably identical. It was no surprise to her that Obi-Wan's old unit had come to Mandalore, and the man who delivered the letter to her had called himself Cody.

"I worked for your husband, Your Highness. I have a lot of respect for him." Though it wasn't common for her to communicate with soldiers, this man was kind, and she could see the scar behind his ear where they had extracted his tumor from him. "Hello there, little guy. You look a lot like your dad." He had run a grizzled hand through Qui-Gon's auburn hair that was starting to curl and fluff. "Lot cuter though, I must say."

She had laughed at that, and at the easy smile that the former Commander had given her. She had to condone them as well, they had rebuilt so much of the city in such a short period. They worked as a solid unit, erecting shelters for those displaced, a new hospital, repairing the city markets and gardens in only a matter of weeks as opposed to what had been years of projected building. When the time had come, she had thanked them profusely; Cody especially, who had led the men in their efforts and brought her the letter from Obi-Wan that was now in a box on her dresser.

It was not a long letter, nothing mushy and clichéd. It was a simple story of him and Anakin, working in the youngling center with a group of initiates. Not Luke and Leia, who were advancing quite quickly, but younger students; hardly toddlers who Obi-Wan had talked about tugging on his robes, asking about his lightsaber, one small Togruta asking him what it was like to have hair (especially on his face). And then, at the end, not to elaborate and spelled out in his somewhat uneven scrawl had been his gentle thoughts that these small children reminded him so much of his own son. Of her as well. How he was looking forward to his return to them and the coming time when they could move to Coruscant. She kept it now in a box of memories that she held; beautiful trinkets and rocks from him, a picture of her sister, a lock of little Qui-Gon's hair, the ring he had gotten her to wear when her wedding band no longer fit during pregnancy, a copy of their wedding invitation. Small things that could mean the world.

But now, those words were sticking with her. He couldn't wait to be back, to come back to her; but he was incredibly late. He wouldn't be this way if something hadn't happened. She tried to quell her panic, she knew that Qui-Gon could feel it; feed off of it, and she didn't want to upset him. The door pushed open slowly, she half expected it was guard, come to tell her of a crash or pirate take over or sudden illness. But it was none of those things.

It was him, looking more bedraggled than usual. She stood, looking at his eyes where they stared back with a gentle look that said he would explain later, and a smile that matched her relief. She stood, and moved to speak, but before she had the chance, little Qui-Gon turned, a little dot of milk on his cheek, spoon clattering down, an arm reaching for his father.

"Dada." He cooed. She froze. He froze. Qui-Gon pursed his lips, reaching again where he was trapped in his high chair. "Dada." He repeated, and Obi-Wan took the step forward to sweep him up into his arms at Qui-Gon's happy laugh.

"Has he—"

"No." She whispered, coming to stand behind him. His smiled turned into a grin, meeting her eyes again.

"Well," he said, as they watched Qui-Gon, who was patting Obi-Wan's beard and squirming to be let down. His father obliged him, letting the little baby out to crawl around him on the floor. "He must be quite glad I'm back." He brushed a now empty hand across her cheek, tracing her jaw with gentle fingers before they both leaned into a kiss; their first in a month. "Almost as glad as I am."

"Yes," She laughed softly as he pulled her into an embrace, her head on his chest. "Up until now he was speechless." And they both watched their son giggle up at them chasing some happy thought around the room; not realizing how important his first word had been.