After a good night's rest and a long, warm water shower, Anakin was feeling in an unusually pleasant mood. As much as he hated to admit it, he had decided this mission was better for him at the moment than another highly demanding physical mission would have been. He had been attempting to take Qohel's advice and enjoy himself. It was preferable not to think of it as a mission at all. "Mission" implied that eventually it would be accomplished and would end. Anakin didn't want it to end.

The young Jedi strolled down the stone staircase lazily, adjusting his stubborn leather tabards as he went. A few steps down, he could see into the lounging room where Dagan and Ohna were seated on a soft couch. Anakin stopped silently, looking on. The young couple spoke in affectionate, softened tones as they smiled at each other. A sharp pang shot through Anakin's throat. It was the same feeling he had experienced upon meeting Dagan's family the day before, and had not diminished since. If anything, it was more poignant this time.

As he looked on his happy friends, all he could think about was Padmé. More precisely, the life he wished he could have with her, the life that existed only in his private world. It was a world he wanted, needed to make real. The real one, the one he lived in now as a Jedi, was not nearly as enticing as the vision of love he saw before him in his young friend's blissful marriage.

A sweet but piercing cry interrupted the couple before Anakin had to. Standing, Ohna kissed her husband once more before disappearing into what Anakin assumed must be their daughter's room.

Dagan looked up, noticing the young Jedi's presence for the first time. Anakin flushed, embarrassed to be caught spying, but if Dagan noticed, he said nothing. Instead he stood and gave his customarily hearty greeting of "Ava!"

Descending the staircase, Anakin returned the greeting with a nervous smile, still feeling a little like a bantha caught staring at an oncoming starcruiser.

"Are you hungry? Ohna and I have made some food," Dagan said, leading the way into the small, warmly lit kitchen.

As much as Anakin had eaten the evening before, he could not deny the small beast that once again churned in his stomach. "That would be great, thank you," he said, taking a seat next to Dagan, who handed him some bread with a thick meat spread.

Anakin took a bite, chewing a little uncomfortably as Dagan sat in easy silence. "Aren't you going to eat something?" He felt rude. Both his mother and Obi-Wan had always taught him to follow the best table manners. Not that he had always followed them, but for some reason, he felt obligated to be especially gracious towards Dagan.

Dagan waved away Anakin's concern. "I ate much earlier. You should not feel bad for eating. You are an honoured guest. Please, feel welcome." Anakin ate in silence for a few moments before Dagan commented, "What you did last night, your," he searched for the new word, "your kata. It was impressive."

"We've worked on it a lot," Anakin replied. "Master Obi-Wan is never satisfied until it's perfect." Which, normally, was well after Anakin was more than ready to move on to something more challenging. That could get very aggravating.

"It looked perfect to me," Dagan said. "I did not know Jedi could do these things." He sounded genuinely marvelled. "You do this with the Force?"

Anakin nodded and couldn't help chuckling a little. "Oh, and we do a lot more. The Jedi can do many things with the Force."

Dagan pondered the comment for a moment, perhaps resizing up the Jedi who, though several years his junior, obviously had abilities Dagan had never comprehended before. "I have always had great respect for Il Ahom. For its wisdom and power to do great things. But you Jedi, you seem to know it even more."

"I know its power, but I still don't understand it," Anakin admitted. "The will of the Force and its guidance…they're hard to grasp. Master Obi-Wan seems to understand that better than I do." As at peace as Obi-Wan apparently was with the Unifying Force, however, he had never been able to help Anakin understand it. Were he here, he would no doubt have some words about meditation and finding one's centre, but all of that still made little sense to Anakin.

Suddenly, Anakin's thought switched directions. Where was Obi-Wan? He hadn't been in his guest room when Anakin had awoken. "Have you seen Master Obi-Wan today?" he asked Dagan.

"Yes. He is out there," Dagan motioned towards a window facing the sea. Anakin stood and took a few steps towards the window. He could see Obi-Wan kneeling on the pebbly beach, facing the ocean, deep in a quiet meditation. "He was up very early."

Glancing at the sky, Anakin realised that it was well past morning and slipping into the planet's midday already. His stomach dropped. "Oh no. I can't believe I slept in so late." Perhaps he had become a little too relaxed. "Obi-Wan is going to be furious," he groaned, attempting to think of something to say to his master when the inevitable confrontation came.

Dagan saved him the trouble. "No, no. He told me this morning that I should let you sleep," he insisted.

The automatic excuse-generating wheels in Anakin's mind were jarred to a halt. "He did?" he asked, genuinely surprised. This sort of gesture from his master was rare, but that made it all the more meaningful to Anakin. The young man looked out at his mentor with filial appreciation.

"He has been your teacher for how many years?" Dagan asked, obviously curious about what was to him a foreign kind of relationship. Truthfully, the idea of a non-loving yet deeply committed and personal relationship between master and padawan was still entirely alien to Anakin, too.

"Eight years," Anakin replied.

"This is almost half your life, yes?" Dagan asked.

Anakin had never thought of it that way. Indeed, in a few more years, he would have spent more of his life as Obi-Wan's padawan than he had spent on Tatooine with his mother. He wasn't sure how that made him feel. He replied, absently, "Almost."

"He is like family to you." It was not a question.

And it was no question to Anakin, either. It hadn't been for years. He nodded slowly. "I grew up without a father. Becoming a Jedi has been…" Well, it certainly hadn't been what he had expected as a boy. Qui-Gon had offered him a life he hadn't really understood, but he still felt it should be more than it was. "It's been hard. But I'm grateful to be Obi-Wan's apprentice."

It was the great unexpected yet certainly welcomed 'but' in his life as a Jedi. The Jedi could be cold and almost unfeeling from Anakin's perspective, and had certainly been suspicious of him. That was the Jedi, but then there was Obi-Wan. He was different somehow. He was the only one who really knew Anakin at all, even if he could sometimes seem completely clueless.

"He seems like a wise, serious Jedi," Dagan commented. "I mean in a good way. He also seems nice."

Anakin chuckled. So Dagan had noticed, too. "I've learned that he's not wound quite as tightly as he sometimes seems to be." Obi-Wan had a sense of humour, all right. It was just drier than Tatooine at midday.

"But it is easy to see why he takes his work seriously," Dagan acknowledged.

"Being a Jedi can be very serious work," Anakin agreed. "Obi-Wan's very committed to his duty."

"But also to you," Dagan pointed out. "You are like his son. And it is a hard job to be a father. When I am his age, my daughter will be your age." The young man shook his head and pressed his knuckles together. "I thought I would be ready. But I look at my Nusa and I am terrified. What will happen to her? Will I be a good father? I do not know. I only want what is best."

Anakin sensed the depth of Dagan's sincerity, the depth of his love for his small daughter, and was overwhelmed with guilt. Here Dagan had opened his home to the Jedi, had shared his family with them, and had no idea of the motives for the mission. Of course, the Jedi weren't going to simply whisk away Bayir children in the night. But Anakin couldn't help feeling the Bayir might be deceived about how much one really had to give up in order to be a Jedi.

Anakin hadn't really realised what he was giving up when he forfeited his possessions to the Hall of Memory, symbols of what Jedi gave up in order to bring peace to others. For how long had he given up his mother, or Padmé, or any hope of having peace of his own? Forever? Every fibre in his being shuddered. He couldn't accept that.

Swallowing back tears, Anakin managed to speak. "From what I've seen, you're going to be a great father. You have a lovely family." He paused, knowing he shouldn't say what he wanted to say, knowing it would be a betrayal to the mission Obi-Wan felt was so important. But Anakin couldn't hold back. "Don't ever give that up," he added firmly. "No matter what you do, don't give up your family."

It felt great to get it out, and he hadn't broken their promise to Qohel and Qohelya not to tell the purpose of their mission. And as for Obi-Wan… well, surely his master would not want to persuade such a loving family to break apart, not even for the Jedi. What was a good cause if you had to give up so much?

Obi-Wan would understand. He wasn't another heartless Jedi. He was different. Anakin wanted to believe Obi-Wan was different.