A/N: Hello there! Thank you all of you for reading and reviewing, it has made me feel so welcome! Without further ado, here comes the second chapter of that post-Hardeen angsty story. See you below with more comments, take care, Meysun.

Sacred Lantern, Guiding Dawn

(Aftermaths of Deception)

Chapter 2

Ripples.

.

"There you go", Vokara Che said, removing the syringe from the midline still inserted in Obi-Wan's elbow.

She fastened the tape back on his skin and then pulled his sleeve down, hiding the catheter from view, gently tapping his forearm, smiling at him as she felt his gratitude in the Force.

"This still has to stay for a couple of days. I want your throat cleared for good, Obi-Wan – you will have to come back in the evening."

"I will. Thank you."

His voice was not normal yet, but it was coming back, albeit slowly. Vokara had been very thorough with his hair, though, and in the four days he had spent in the Halls, it had grown almost back the way he had groomed it, before. Obi-Wan knew it was vain, but he was glad – he felt less exposed. Less naked. Even though it was tousled and somewhat limp, courtesy of the raging fever he had sported coming back from Naboo.

Obi-Wan barely remembered his way back to Coruscant. He recalled Padmé sitting with him, and Anakin yelling at him – he was fairly sure he had dreamt of it and had the awful feeling he might have even shed tears, at some point, and that someone had wiped them from his face. But perhaps it had been the pain – he had been truly unable to swallow, let alone to say a word.

The infection in his throat had been serious – he had only narrowly escaped surgery with a combination of strong second-line antibiotics still coursing through his bloodstream. Vokara had told him the infection in his throat had been caused by the modulator's removal, by a combination of germs he had taken with him from prison and Nal Hutta, and the fact that his immune system had still been weak from Kadavo. Frustration had welled up within him, in a tidal wave that had surprised him and left him exhausted, but Vokara had been her usual self, gently wrapping a lekku around his shoulders and holding him close.

"Don't fight it, Obi-Wan", she had told him, softly. "We will have you up and about in no time, I promise."

He had leant against her, wordlessly, the fever still sapping most of his energy. He had always felt so safe with her, her lekku shielding him from the world, from his very first day here. And Force, how he had wanted to hide, now that he had his face back, because he was a liar, a deceiver - he had fired blaster bolts and shared a coffin with a dead Rodian to escape prison and fought against Anakin and battled his Grandmaster and gone by two fake names, Ben and Hardeen ; he had befriended a ruthless killer and a bounty hunter until even his thoughts felt murky, and Force, was it true that Ahsoka had held him, had he truly been so heartless…?

"Shh… Rest, Obi-Wan. Do not think about this right now. Rest."

He was feeling better now. The bruises on his face had faded, he was able to swallow and to drink, even though he still had little appetite. He knew that he had to gain his strength back, and so Obi-Wan really tried to eat. He had lost several pounds in Kadavo, some more during and after Hardeen, and the man staring back at him in the mirror was pale under his growing stubble and unruly hair – but it was Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master and General, and he had to get better.

"Obi-Wan, are you sure you are up to this? You still have at least a week of medical leave ahead of you. And both Master Windu and Master Yoda assured me there was no true emergency with that debriefing."

Obi-Wan raised his eyes towards her and saw the gentle concern in her face, felt it brush his essence – and he didn't deserve that, but he still leant into it, because…

"I need to put this behind me."

The words had left his lips unchecked, and understanding softened Vokara's face even more. She nodded, brushing his forearm a second time.

"Very well, Master Kenobi. I still expect you here in six hours, though."

He had nodded, bowing in thanks, and she had left him getting dressed in the cream-and-brown clothes he favoured. It had felt strange, both familiar and completely foreign – and in the end Obi-Wan had pulled on his robe, limbs hiding in his many folds, and felt somewhat equipped to his task at last.

His meeting with the Shadows was on the other side of the Temple, but Obi-Wan was good at disappearing, always had been, and none of the Jedi he crossed even raised their eyes at him, because his Force-signature was hidden behind his shields and because he was cloaking the Force around him, muffling his steps and his very presence.

He found Master Tholme waiting for him – the elder Jedi Master smiled at him when he saw him glancing at his chrono and sent a reassuring, warm ripple towards him.

"Do not worry, Master Kenobi. You are anything but late."

Obi-Wan bowed, and Quinlan's former Master took him by his good elbow, seemingly aware of his line and the way his short walk had drained him.

"Come. Let us have a seat."

Obi-Wan followed him inside the room, gaze instantly caught towards the window, because the view over Coruscant was breath-taking – facing the outer lines of the never-ending city, promising horizon, if not nature.

The room was spacious, though lined with shelves full of files and data-pads. There was a big couch with several meditation pillows on one side, and Obi-Wan froze when he saw who was seated cross-legged on the furthest cushion.

"Howdy", Quinlan said, voice low, dark eyes unfathomable, golden tattoo underlying his sharp cheekbones – dark hair, dark skin and a somewhat spicy scent that was so very him, had always been, and was so familiar it hurt.

His friend was not dressed in his usual, rather light attire, but was wearing beige tunics and leggings, and a robe a tad darker than him. Meaning Quin was not on a mission, but here as a Jedi Master and Shadow – fully intending to debrief him about the very operation he had been fuming about non-stop ever since Obi-Wan had written to him.

He had written to all of them. Quin, Nara, Kit, Dex, Hermione, Bail, Madame Nu, Kira – and Satine. And the worst had been the silence, until Satine had answered, and Obi-Wan was still reeling from that holo-call and could not think of that, not now and not ever, not in the Temple, perhaps back on the Negotiator, but not here, not here…

"Hello."

His voice was just a whisper and he let Master Tholme guide him towards the couch, trying not to let himself sink on the cushions, feeling his heartbeats thump so hard in his chest that his ribs ached. Or perhaps it was that lingering expression in Quin's dark eyes – that distance that had never been there before.

"Obi-Wan, would you like some water?"

Tholme's voice was calm, guiding him back to present issues, and Obi-Wan took a small, centric breath and raised his face towards him.

"Yes, please. Thank you, Master Tholme."

He would face this. He had to.

"All right, Master Kenobi – Obi-Wan", Master Tholme said, sitting down next to him and placing a glass in front of him, smiling pleasantly. "To make things very clear – this is not an interrogation. It is not a test, nor some… condemnation of any kind. But you were sent by the Jedi Council in a very sensible area we have been monitoring for years, and you have helped capture some of the bounty hunters who gave us all a fair share of white hair."

"And turned Nal Hutta upside down", Quin muttered, resting his chin on his folded hands, face still impassive but dark eyes sharp.

"That is one way to put it", Master Tholme answered, lightly. "This is why we asked the Jedi Council if we could debrief you, Obi-Wan. You had a unique insight into the Coruscanti prison - and you spent weeks beside Cad Bane and Moralo Eval. We think your intel could help our future work as well as our research."

"Oh", Obi-Wan let out. "Of course."

"Because we do research, you know", Quin interjected, voice very low but eyes burning with an icy fire. "We do not barge into sensitive areas without an intensive study of the field we are entering. We train and research for months, sometimes years, to be able to blend in. So as to not make any blunders endangering us, and those around us. We know how to discard our very Jedi-ness like a cloak, to use a modulator for months if it takes it, and we never, ever, leave the Jedi Council in the dark about our findings. So, you see, we thought they – you – could at least return the favour."

"What Quinlan means…", Master Tholme began, sending appeasing waves through the Force towards him and Obi-Wan, but Quin cut him.

"What I mean is: you will tell us everything from the moment you decided it was a good idea to let a bounty hunter shoot you and fake your own death, to the moment you hauled Chancellor's sorry ass back into his ship to Coruscant. And then Master Tholme and I will assess just to what point your actions undid the work of several Shadows."

The silence afterwards was thick, and Obi-Wan realised he had crossed his arms, digging his nails deep into his robe, clinging to the fabric like a lifeline. He tried to swallow, but his throat felt dry and narrow and all he could do was focus on that glass of water between them – so as to not meet Quin's burning gaze.

I never meant to discard your work. I never meant to endanger you, and to make things worse. I do not think my work is above yours. I never meant…

"Master Kenobi, you do know how much Quin enjoys dramatics, don't you?"

Master Tholme's voice was gentle. So was his hand on his arm. His dark eyes were warm, and there was no malice in it, merely concern.

"Your mission was daring, reckless, and a complete surprise to us – and yes, we will have to assess the outcomes. But Obi-Wan… it was also a striking success."

Something in Obi-Wan's chest unravelled, and his fingers lost their death-grip around his sleeves, but Master Tholme left his hand where it was, still assessing him.

"Obi-Wan? Hey – starling… Starling, breathe. It's fine. You're fine. Everything is fine."

It was the name that undid him. That name from a past long gone, a past where Qui-Gon was still there and he just a little boy, a small Padawan so eager to prove himself. He had been his Master's robin from the very first day – but Tholme, who often shook his head at their antics, occasionally even at Qui-Gon, had called him starling. Bird and silver alike, refraining Quinlan from smothering him too much, just like now.

Quiet tears fell like droplets on his sleeve, freeing some of the thickness in his throat, and Obi-Wan felt air reach his lungs again, and feeling return to his fingertips and lips. And all along he stayed silent and unmoving, like a statue, simply breathing, just like Tholme asked, because he had to.

"I don't remember being dead", he finally let out, seconds or minutes after – he would not know, they felt the same to him. "I took the vital suppressor, as instructed, and then I let him shoot me in the chest and fell. I diffused the impact with the Force, cushioned my fall and then I was… gone."

He was still looking at the glass, at the crystal-like water, but his fingers were loose now, almost warm, and so he wiped his cheek and finally let go of his robe, letting his hands rest into his lap.

"Several members of the Council were against me going undercover, and so was I. But you had sent us intel about Moralo Eval, and the Chancellor was still determined to go to Naboo while wanting him out of his way. He made it very clear to Mace – to Master Windu - and Master Yoda that he trusted us to keep him safe. Which meant we had to find a way. And he pointed out I had been to Naboo before and knew my way there. So… it had to be me."

Obi-Wan took a shaky breath, and released it, and the Force around him sent gentle tendrils of comfort towards him, causing him to shiver. Or perhaps it was the reminder of what he had done.

"I did not want to lie to Anakin. Not to anyone. I had hoped to stage my death on the battlefield, with Cody. Anakin – he has no acting skills, it is not in his nature, he cannot hide things well. But there was no time left. So…"

He fell silent, and Tholme's hand was back on his arm, gently coaxing the glass into his hand. And Obi-Wan took a sip, and then another, and when he had drained the glass, some colour must have returned to his cheeks, because Tholme's concern had backed down a notch in the Force.

"Can you tell us what happened in prison?"

So had Quin's anger, it would seem, because his friend's voice was calm in the Force. Focused and steady – causing Obi-Wan to blink and look up, at last. Quin was still seated on the cushion, was still looking at him – but his gaze was no longer scorching. It was… Obi-Wan did not know.

He told them about prison. About the way he stabbed that Karkarodon in the hand, threatening to eat him, pretending to be bored to impress Eval and the other prisoners. He told them about the way Eval seemed to have his ways with the guards, able to make them transfer prisoners from cell to cell as it pleased him. And he told them how Eval managed to stage a diversion thanks to the help of young Boba Fett, whom he remembered as a tiny child and who had turned truly feral. It had felt terrible, to see such young features already etched with such sorrow and hate, thinking it was also Cody's face, Rex's face, Boil's and Waxer's and every trooper he had come to love – but it was not the place or time for him to comfort the boy.

Instead, he told them how Eval and Bane had ruthlessly killed prisoners and guards alike, how he helped them crack the code of the control room levelling the coffins into the morgue, and how he had narrowly avoided killing a Clone himself.

"You told him your blaster jammed?", Quin asked, bending towards him, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Are you…"

"He did not like it. Bane. He slapped me in the face. But…"

"You know he could have killed you, right? You know that Hardeen would never hesitate to kill a guard? When you are undercover, you are undercover. You play by their rules. And they are not pretty."

Obi-Wan stayed silent, and Tholme and Quinlan shared a look.

"Let's take a break", Tholme suggested, gathering Obi-Wan's empty glass. "Is there anything I can bring you? Something to eat, more water?"

Obi-Wan shook his head and Tholme stood up, briefly placing his hand on his shoulder, tapping it gently.

"I will get some caf. Take a breather. Both of you."

"You know what I am going to take? A leak", Quin announced, stretching gracefully, and Obi-Wan watched him go, still seated on the couch, body heavy with almost unbearable weariness.

His shoulders relaxed slightly once he found himself alone, and he allowed his back to meet the couch, sinking into the soft leathery comfort. He was so tired - it was such an effort to keep a grip on his shields while trying to remember everything, and the Force around him seemed far away, gentle but almost out of his reach.

"There you go. You don't want to send Master Che after us, do you?"

Tholme's voice was both warm and amused, but Obi-Wan felt the concern behind it and blinked, sitting up, realising with shame he had been about to fall asleep. The elder Jedi had brough him a steaming mug and a small plate laden with ginger shortbread.

"Did I remember right?", he asked, smiling at him. "I still make them myself. One has to stay prepared, you know."

And Obi-Wan felt something within him, transcending weariness and shame, warming him as the Force swirled closer.

"Thank you", he said, earnestly, taking a piece of shortbread, and Tholme winked.

"Go ahead. Don't be shy. Into the cup with it."

And Obi-Wan felt a smile tug at his lips, despite himself, because those were childish moves and the Force knew his childhood was gone, never to return – but he still dipped the biscuit deep into the mug before taking a bit. It was everything he remembered and more, ginger and bergamot melting in his mouth – and suddenly it felt like Qui-Gon was there as well, placing his large hand on his neck.

Telling him the Force would provide – and Obi-Wan blinked, feeling tears of grief spring to his eyes, like twelve years ago, because nothing was ever learnt forever.

"Ripples", Tholme said, sitting down next to him, taking a piece of shortbread and dipping it into his caf. "That is the problem, with that memory of ours. We think we are fine, that everything is carefully stored away, and then something comes and awakens it all, and we find ourselves back to where we were."

Obi-Wan took a sip of tea, letting the steam rise into eyes that kept leaking against his will. It was hot. It was good. It was more than he could hope for.

"We aren't, though. Whatever path we threaded is ours. We just need to welcome those ripples, Obi-Wan, and see them for what we are."

The elder Jedi was sending gentle waves of comfort and understanding towards him, and gradually, almost painfully, Obi-Wan let them in, allowing them to touch and steady him.

"This mission was cruel to you", Master Tholme said, softly, earnest dark eyes meeting his when he finally looked up. "We all feel it."

Quinlan's return prevented him from answering. His friend looked at them, and two pieces of shortbread promptly lifted the plate, swirling towards his outstretched palm.

"You could have asked", Tholme told him, mildly.

"The Force provides", Quin answered. "Caf would be good, though."

"Mhm. We all have wishes."

"Oh, come on. You brought him tea, you could – what are you doing?"

Obi-Wan paused mid-gesture, and then he finished pouring a cup for Quin. By that time his friend was already there, snatching the cup from his hand, narrowing catlike eyes at him.

"Don't", Quin simply hissed, and then he sat back on his cushion. "Just tell us about Nal Hutta. And don't let your tea go cold."

Obi-Wan just stared at him, and then he rubbed his forehead, tiredly.

"We crashed the ship", he explained. "On purpose. It was too recognizable. And then we went to buy clothes and weapons."

It had been his second mistake, in Pablo's pawnshop. He had been horrified to see Bane's cruelty towards the owner and the poor Twi'lek woman, and had tried to give them credits – Quin shook his head at that, and finished his caf straight away, disgust and incredulity fighting for dominion on his features.

Obi-Wan answered their questions about the Hutts, the prison, the way he tracked Eval and Bane back to Nal Hutta, and the way they escaped again – this was easy. When his story reached Orondia though, when he came to the part where Anakin and Ahsoka had found them, and recalled the way he was trying to fly the ship, protect them, and still keep his cover intact, his voice was wavering and he had to stop for a while, taking deep breaths.

"I'm sorry", he whispered, forcing his clenched fists to relax, trying to control the anguish that had come to hit him now that all was over. "It's fine, I just… I didn't expect them to be there. The whole point of this deception was to keep them away. I just… I just… I crashed Ahsoka's ship, and then I hit Anakin, I beat him up, I…"

"You saved their lives."

Quin's voice was earnest. Firm. And it silenced Obi-Wan, who just blinked, somewhat stunned.

"What?", he whispered, and his friend caught his gaze, sitting upright and graceful, cross-legged on the ground.

"You saved their lives. And yours. Anakin was feral. He could have killed you. And get his Padawan killed by Bane or Eval. Why was he even there, did he explain?"

"The Chancellor told him about Nal Hutta."

"Well damn the Chancellor!"

Quin's eyes had turned darker than storm clouds, and he had slammed his fist down on the ground for good measure.

"First he wants the Jedi Council to come up with a half-assed plan, and then he decides to send Anakin on his own?!"

"I… I was undercover for several days."

"And?! If you are implying you didn't work fast enough, Force help me…"

"Quin. Not helpful", Master Tholme interrupted. "The Jedi Council told Anakin the truth, after that. They told him to be patient, and to let you work. And to our knowledge, he did not interfere anymore. What about Dooku?"

"He tested us on Serenno. Along with several other bounty hunters, in a device designed by Moralo Eval. Bulduga was killed by Bane before he could even begin the challenge. For his hat."

The absurdity of it still chilled him to the bone, and Obi-Wan shook his head.

"His brother Onca died in the Box. Along with Kiera Swan, Jakoli, Mant, Sinrich and Sixtat. Derrown, Embo, Twazzi, Bane and Hardeen survived."

Silence stretched for a few seconds.

"You mean you did", Quin corrected, softly. "Obi-Wan, what happened in that Box?"

I couldn't save them all. I tried.

Obi-Wan shook his head, again, trying to snap out of the fear, the adrenaline, that strange bonding with Bane who had been his lifeline there, as he had been his – and all along Dooku had been watching, seeing through him all along.

"I can't talk about it", he finally let out, voice small. "It wouldn't make any sense. I can show you, though."

And so it was that they ended all up on the floor, cross-legged and fingers linked together, eyes closed, slipping into a light joined meditation. Quin's fingers were warm against his, and Tholme's were solid, both grounding him as Obi-Wan finally allowed his mind to enter the Box once more.

He showed them everything – the dioxis gas, the laser spikes, the ray-shields, the blasters, the flame-throwers, and the deaths. The fight against Eval, and Dooku, always Dooku, one step ahead of them.

He did not notice how Quin's hand moved, fingers entwining themselves with his, Obi-Wan just forced himself to remember – and he did, he remembered everything, every little detail with the precision coming from hyper-alertness and utter fear.

And in the end, because it was easier, because he was bone-weary, he simply projected all the rest: Naboo, and the kidnapping of the Chancellor using shadow-holograms, the rescue… and the ultimate fight against Dooku, who had played with them all along.

He was shaking when he finally opened his eyes, and realised the sun was setting. The room was darker now, and it was a relief, because he wasn't sure how he looked – hair sticking to his forehead, feeling cold and empty.

"That's it", he whispered, and his voice felt foreign, as well as his lips – there was a strange tingling around his mouth and in his hands and feet. "Unless you… still wanted something?"

"I think we will stop here", Tholme told him, voice gentle but far away.

"Oh."

His voice was so very small.

"Okay. Good. That's good."

.

.

.

Obi-Wan blinked, and then, because the Force provided indeed, he silently passed out, body sinking into Quin's chest.

One moment Quin was staring at Obi's pale, ghost-like face, the other he had his arms full of his too-thin, stubborn and oh-so-weary friend. Obi-Wan's face had dropped against his neck and Quinlan could feel the tickle of his soft auburn hair, the warmth of his breath that stood in such contrast to his icy skin.

"Uh…"

He looked up at his former Master, who was assessing Obi-Wan through the Force.

"Any intel?"

Tholme just sighed.

"He's exhausted."

Shocked beyond his mind, bordering on dissociation. And touch starved.

"Touch starved?!", Quin repeated, hand unconsciously rising to the back of Obi-Wan's head, stroking his hair, his other arm tightening his grip around his friend. "That's a thing?"

"Well, not for you", Tholme replied, dryly, and Quin just scoffed, before focusing on Obi-Wan, still out cold against him.

Quinlan sent a tentative Force-tendril towards him and felt it sink into exhaustion as thick as quicksand. His hand moved, gently tilting Obi-Wan's face. His friend's cheek was sunken and pale under his growing stubble, and his lashes did not even quiver, soft paintbrushes guarding the way to his very soul.

Quin's hands trailed down Obi's back, rubbing it gently, trying to keep him warm, trailing down his arms. His fingers met something solid under the fabric and Obi-Wan's lips moved, slightly, but otherwise he did not stir.

"Kriff, there's a line in his arm?"

Quin's arms were wrapped protectively around Obi-Wan again and Tholme sighed.

"He's due to see Che. Now, I think. She commed me, before. Told him to make him eat something. She's worried about him."

"Who isn't?", Quin muttered.

Tholme's eyebrows shoot up, and Quin unwillingly asked: "What now?"

"Well, you certainly have a unique way to show it, former Padawan-mine."

"And what was I supposed to do? Providing cheers and belly-dances? They sent him undercover without proper training, without intel, and it nearly got him killed! He's not even a Shadow, Master, he's that pure-hearted poster-boy who's so ridiculously kind he's beating himself up on Sixtat's death!"

"So, if I read you correctly, you were yelling at him and berating him because he's kind-hearted and did the best he could on a mission he was not trained for - but survived and completed nonetheless - without losing his sense of compassion?"

Quin shook his head, wishing he could throw his hands up in the air – said hands, however, were still busy cradling his friend against him, and Quin was very determined not to let go of him. Not now, not now he had him back.

"That's not it at all, and you know it. It should never have been him. It should have been one of us. Obi's amazing – he's unbelievable, he's a kriffing menace and I can't believe what he just did, but he should never have had to endure all this. Not after Kadavo – and not ever."

"Does Obi-Wan know this?"

Tholme's earnest question threw Quinan aback.

"Does he know what?"

"How highly you think of him. How you love him. How glad you are he is back."

"Of course he knows! He's Obi! We have known each other since the crèche!"

Quin's own fire surprised him, and he realised his eyes were burning, because losing Obi-Wan had hurt something fierce. He had never abandoned hope, something in his death sounding fishy to him, but when he had realised just what they had made him do, Quin had withdrawn into fury. Because it was not fair. Because he had known, from the very beginning, that he loved Obi-Wan more than Obi loved him.

"This is Krayt spit, and you know it", his former Master chided him firmly. "What you say and think, Quinlan. Look at him."

Quinlan lowered his gaze once more, and realised Obi-Wan's face was resting against his shoulder, lips half-parted and features lax. He looked… unburdened. Like Aayla, whenever she had fallen asleep against him. Obi-Wan's hands were curled up, and Quin remembered the way his fingers had felt against his, slim, long and so cold he had felt the need to cradle them between his own.

Something opened within him, like a ray of sunshine finally breaching mountains, warming him up. Allowing him to bestow, instead of spitting fire. Filling him with the goodness his friend had never failed to see in him, and to embody.

"Hey", Quin whispered, gently carding his fingers through Obi-Wan's hair, sending love and strength and care towards him. "Hey, Obi. Come on. Rise and shine."

His friend made a small sound and Quin smiled, blowing a breath against Obi-Wan's hair, laughing softly when he saw him frown.

"Mmh."

"Well, don't pass out on me next time."

"'kin?"

"Nope, guess again."

Obi-Wan turned his face towards his neck, eyes still firmly closed but hand rising, finding Quin's shoulder and staying there in a loose, childlike grip.

"Quin."

His friend's voice was low, but the feeling of utter safety that flooded the Force left him speechless, for a while. And then his hand found Obi's hair again, stroking it gently, feeling his friend unravel, melting even more against him in his semi-conscious, dazed state.

He ended up half carrying, half dragging him back to the Halls, thankful for Tholme's help and strange lack of teasing.

"Quinlan Vos", Vokara Che commented, lightly, shaking her head, but she was smiling as she was taking off Obi-Wan's robe, allowing Quin to sit on the bed, still cradling him against him.

"Mmh."

"I know, I know. Just let me bother you a tiny bit, and then you can go back to cuddling with your friend."

"Hey!"

"Mmh."

Obi-Wan did not even stir as Che injected the antibiotic, nor when she checked him through the Force, seemingly pleased by the state of his throat.

"They make him a bit foggy, in the evening. The antibiotics. He's usually a bit disoriented in the night – but I think he'll sleep, today."

"What? Hey, wait, I'm not…"

Vokara raised an eyebrow at him, and Quin relented – very carefully tucking joy deep behind his shields.

"Did you see how narrow that cot is?"

"As if that ever stopped you, Vos."

Damn straight – he thought, before thinking better, and Vokara's laughter echoed in the Halls long after she had closed the door behind her.

Quinlan lowered his gaze and found that Obi-Wan had already made himself comfortable against him, face resting against his shoulder and arm wrapped around his chest.

Completely foggy, indeed.

He scoffed, and Obi-Wan stirred against him, lifting his head. Bemused grey eyes found his under a mop of tousled, auburn hair, and Quin grinned.

"Howdy, Obi."

"'lo."

His friend blinked for a while, brow furrowing into what was almost a frown.

"But you were angry", Obi-Wan croaked, and Quin's heart melted. But just a tiny bit.

"Nope, Scrawny-Wan. I'm just Quin."

"Oh."

Obi-Wan nodded sagely, as if that explained everything, and then his brow furrowed again, anguish creeping back into his gaze.

"Still Green?", he asked, voice not above a whisper, and this time Quin's heart melted completely.

"Yeah, Obi", he answered, fingers finding his friend's hair, drawing soothing circles there, feeling him relax, anguish slowly withdrawing, its ripples fading in the Force as his friend fell asleep.

"Of course. Still Green."

A/N: Kriff the Chancellor, Quin, you're so kriffing right (inserts that smiley with swearing symbols especially for Palpatine). Dear readers, if you knew just how much research has gone into that chapter because of those crazy bounty Hunters in Moralo Eval's box, you'd laugh at me. That, and I had that wonderful excuse to re-watch those four episodes, taking notes of all the times where Obi-Wan was just so kriffing *kind* and almost slipped up (there's those two I mentionned, but you can also check just how many times he's shaking his head in silent disbelief). Research also made me discover that 1) Hardeen is initially from Concordia, which explains the helmet and 2) as I watched the movie I realised this helmet allows us to conjure part of Obi-Wan's beard and as such, to rely to him as Obi and not Hardeen. Or maybe it's just me and my fierce missing of Obi-Wan's *hair* in the first chapter of this fic.

More seriously (or maybe not), I just enjoyed writing Quin so, so much. And Tholme. They just - I don't know. But I was laughing almost as much as Vokara Che, despite my deep compassion and worry for Obi-Wan. It's not over for him, don't let the fluff fool you, but you know me now, no point writing angst without comfort. That, and they are Jedi, they are supposed to move past their frustrations.

One last thing : two headcanons of mine. 1) Obi-Wan isn't oblivious to his health, he is just unreliable when it comes to his limits. 2) Obi-Wan doesn't hate healers (because I'm a healer myself, hah) and doesn't flee from medical care (because he is a General and an adult and generally sensible) - he's just... unreliable when it comes to his limits :D.

Thank you for reading, both this chapter and my whims. It is wonderful to be back. Please take care, and see you soon, Meysun.