See chapter one for all info.

Here's chapter five, hope you enjoy! Thanx to all who reviewed, luv ya all!



* * *



Qui-Gon arched his back, attempting to work out the last of the kinks left from yesterday's sparing session as he walked down the hallway. He reached his padawan's room, but paused before he knocked. For the last week, with the exception of the small tardiness infraction, Obi-Wan had been the model padawan; perhaps he could be allowed to sleep in?

No, Qui-Gon thought. As much as he would love to reward his padawan's diligence, the master had another in a long stream of meetings to attend. A warring faction on the planet Xaron, the Melites, had sent a rather overzealous ambassador in hopes of receiving a solution to their planet's issues. Stipulating, however, that the solution to be favorable to the Melites. Qui-Gon, renowned as on of the most successful negotiators within the Jedi ranks, had been specifically requested – ordered – to attend, but even Qui-Gon's cultivated skills could not make any progress with a being who insisted on discussing peace, but refused to make any concessions.

Letting Obi-Wan sleep would not be an option – that is, if Qui-Gon wanted to be sure his padawan ate. Though Obi-Wan's skills, with few exceptions, have not been lacking, the boy was still not eating as he did a few months ago. Qui-Gon used to have to hide food so his padawan would not get into it; now, he found himself throwing away what seemed like more than the two Jedi ate.

Yesterday, Qui-Gon had directly approached the problem only to have Obi-Wan brush it off with a laugh, "It's a silent protest to your culinary abilities, Master."

Qui-Gon shook his head, bring himself back to the present and, knocking on the boy's door, he called, "Padawan, time to get up."

He had to wait a moment before a slurred voice responded, "'Kay, Master. Be there in a sec'."

"Hurry Obi-Wan; wouldn't want your breakfast to get cold."

Qui-Gon listened at the door for a little longer until the noise of a half- asleep apprentice groping for the first available tunic floated out from within. Smiling, he then returned to the table and was joined soon afterwards by a bleary eyed, but dressed apprentice.

Obi-Wan dropped himself into his usual chair, across from Qui-Gon, and greeted the other, "Good morning, Master."

"Good morning, Obi-Wan. Sleep well?"

The padawan took a small bite of a piece of toast before placing it back down on his plate. "Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon glanced at the toast, "Not hungry…again?"

Obi-Wan started at the question, quickly shook his head, and promptly turned his attention to the holovision – seemingly out of place, for it was never on, but a welcome distraction nonetheless.

"…Both mother and child are resting comfortably at Coruscant Memorial. And in other news, we have an update on the case of local politician, Recorn Willoc. As you may remember, Willoc was found dead last month in the back seat of a taxi. Authorities were initially baffled at the sudden death the forty-two year old senate candidate, but results of a recent autopsy have revealed –"

Obi-Wan literally flew across the room, quickly breeching the ten foot distance to the holovision, slapping at the control panel, and effectively removing the offensive image from the eyes of his master.

"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon stood up, pushing his chair back, and staring at his now sheepish padawan. "What are you doing?"

"Ummm, well, master…I figured since, you know, we never watch the holo at mealtime…why start now?" Obi-Wan gave an unsure smile and a small laugh which ended in sigh.

Qui-Gon threw an incredulous look at his padawan before stalking over to the holovision and turning it back on.

"…one was injured, but the fire did cause two million credits in damage. The family is expected to receive aid from the state to help them rebuild. Now, as we are out of time, I'm Hicara Tiliquit with holo five news. Have a good day!"

Switching the holo off again, Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan. "Why did you turn it off?"

"Umm," desperately looking for some escape, Obi-Wan's eyes fell on the chrono perched on top of the counter. "Master, aren't you late for your meeting?"

"What?" Qui-Gon turned and checked the chrono, affirming that, while he was not late, he had two minutes to travel up seven floor levels. "Sith!"

The Jedi master turned to leave, but stayed himself a moment, returning his attention to his apprentice.

"We'll talk later."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Obi-Wan responded, "Yes, Master."



* * *



"So, if you take the relative velocity and square it…no, that's not right…cube it? Force! I'm so confused!"

Bant sighed melodramatically and dropped her head to the table, banging it a few times for effect.

"Bant, it's not that bad."

It had taken nearly the entire week, innumerable apologies, and even a fruit basket, but Bant had finally forgiven Obi-Wan. He half suspected the speedy – for her – acceptance of his apology was due to her failing grade on their most recent astrophysics' test and not to a desire to end his pathetic groveling.

"No, Obi-Wan. You don't understand! No, well, I guess you do understand and I don't and that's my problem! I don't see why I have to learn this if I want to be a healer."

Bant sat back in her chair, pushed the textbook away, and crossed her arms. She looked around the now empty classroom and sighed.

Obi-Wan smiled at his friend and commented "Well, what if you're dealing with a substance that can only be administered under certain physical conditions…a decimal point flaw or formula inaccuracy could mean death for your patient."

"Shut up, Obi – and will you stop doing that?"

Obi-Wan jerked his head up, "What?"

"Checking your chrono. You've been doing it the entire time. Do you have somewhere to be or is my stupidity just too much for you to handle."

Obi-Wan's stomach turned. His appointment was in a half an hour. He'd have to leave soon to be there on time.

He took a deep breath, successfully attempting to quell the nausea which – for the umpteenth time that day – rose quickly within him, and responded, "Yes, actually, I do have somewhere to be. I'll check my messages and then be on my way."

Obi-Wan gave Bant a forced smile before rising and walking over the public com built into the wall of the classroom. He typed in his password and window flashed up on the screen.

One new message.

Obi-Wan pressed the play button and waited.

"Padawan, there has been a change in plans. I know that we were supposed to have our sparing session after evening meal, but the meeting schedule was rearranged and it appears as if I will be negotiating – if that's what one calls it when there has been no progress in a standard week – all night. I still would like to fit in our 'saber practice though. Meet me at training room seven at the sixteenth hour."

The voice faded and Obi-Wan was left staring at the flashing message screen, a window asking if he wanted to reply occupying the monitor.

After a minute, Obi-Wan turned to Bant, "Hey, would you do me a favor?"

The Calimarian looked at him skeptically, "Depends."

"Can you tell Qui-Gon that I can't make the sparring session today?"

"Obi-Wan…"

Obi-Wan's voice was touched with desperation, "Bant, please, he never checks his messages. I don't want him waiting for me."

"What do you want me to say?"

He checked his chrono again, "I don't care, make something up. Tell him I'm studying – whatever – I've really got to go."

"I don't kn-"

Obi-Wan walked over and kissed her cheek – effectively cutting her off – grabbed his bag, and ran towards the door, "Thanks, Bant, you're the best!"

Bant brushed a piece of her hair from her face as she listened to her friends fading footsteps. "Yeah. I'm the best, alright."



* * *



"Obilec Karas! Is there an Obilec Karas here?"

The receptionist shrugged and went to cross the name off her list, but was distracted by the slam of the entrance door.

"Obilec Karas? I'm here."

Obi-Wan tugged at the grey poncho he had hastily pulled over his Jedi tunic, struggling to control his breath. Next week, he thought, I'm leaving an hour early.

"Well, Mr. Karas, if you'll follow me."

The woman walked through waiting area, passing a few well known – and apparently frequent as she did not spare them but a glance – faces, and entering a small chamber off of the waiting room. The inside of the smaller room was just as rundown as that of the waiting area. The once cream colored paint was smudged and peeling and the metal chair with a light blue cushioned was soiled and had small tufts of synthcotton poking out of multiple holes.

Obi-Wan sat down in the chair, mentally pushing away thoughts of what type of filth he could be sitting on.

"The nurse will be here soon." The receptionist pulled the creaking door open and left, closing it behind her.

She uses the term 'nurse' rather loosely, Obi-Wan mused. The padawan tried to get his mind off of what he was there for by counting the spots on the wall, mentally reciting Jedi mantras, thinking about the punishment he was going to receive when he returned – anything – but with little success.

Before long, a man carrying a metal tray entered and set it down on a small table. Obi-Wan glanced at the array of needles carefully positioned on the carrier and turned back to the 'nurse.'

"Pull up your sleeve."

Obi-Wan inhaled, pulled up the poncho sleeve, and offered his arm.



Well, what do you think? Be a good lil Jedi and review as always!