Obi-Wan slept well that night. His dreams were not troubled with nightmares.  His sense of calm was so great even Anakin slept well, and both of them woke the next morning with a contentment they had begun to think they would never feel again. As had become their custom, they dressed in silence, went through the morning kata, or as much of it as Anakin had learned, then settled down for a half-hour meditation before heading down for breakfast.  They did not speak a word.  It was the one time of day when Anakin held his tongue, and he did so not because Obi-Wan expected him to, but because he liked it.  To wake up each morning to a fresh day, a day not of drudgery and fear but of learning and excitement, was an exquisite luxury Anakin had never before known.  It was like waking up only to find yourself in a wonderful dream where the sunlight was bright but not harsh, where you could eat until your belly was full, and no one ever beat you, where your master's sole purpose was to give you your heart's desire.  The mornings were sacred, and Anakin didn't want to break their spell by talking.

That morning held a special grace.  If Anakin hadn't known better, he might have said Obi-Wan seemed genuinely happy.  As they walked down to breakfast, he didn't just smile at Anakin, he actually grinned, ruffling Anakin's hair.  The boy hardly knew what to make of it.

At the breakfast table, Anakin warmly greeted the Organas, giving Mimi a kiss.  On Tatooine he had begun to think he was too old to kiss his mother, but now that he was no longer with her, he thought it hadn't been such a babyish thing after all, so he made up for it by kissing Mimi.

"What's on the agenda for today?" Bail asked.  Anakin knew he could count on his big brother to get away with the things he himself could not.  Between the two of them they could pretty much have their way with Obi-Wan.

"Actually, Anakin has been working so hard, I thought we might make today a little holiday."  Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow at Bail.  "I don't suppose you could take the day off?"  Anakin beamed expectantly at the Prince.

"Well," Bail hastily thought through his schedule for the day.  It wasn't often that Obi-Wan asked him to be naughty.  This must be his reward for the previous night.  "When a Jedi Knight asks me to play hooky, how can I refuse?"

"Wizard!" Anakin crowed.  "So what are we gonna do?"
"What would you like to do?" Obi-Wan returned.

"Let's go swimming!"
"We do that every day.  Can't you think of something special?"

Anakin thought for a minute.  He really had no idea what people did with free time, having never had any himself.  He could only think of one thing, and while he was sure Obi-Wan would refuse, after all he had asked.  "I don't suppose there are any pod races on Alderaan?"

Bail shook his head, grinning.  "I'm afraid not.  But how about the amusement park?"
"What's that?"

"It has all kinds of rides.  It's hardly podracing, but it's a lot of fun."

That might not be too bad.  "Can I pilot?"

"They aren't that kind of ride," Obi-Wan explained.  "No one pilots.  You just…ride."

Anakin frowned in confusion.  What kind of vehicle had no pilot?"

"How about the botanical gardens?" Obi-Wan suggested.

"Honestly, Ben," Bail scoffed.  "Nine-year-olds don't want to go to the botanical gardens."

Vilnis interjected, "You loved the gardens when you were young."

"That's because Veena taught me which flowers were edible."

Anakin's ears perked up at that.  Edible flowers?  What exactly were these gardens all about, and why couldn't these grown-ups let him decide for himself?  "What's a – patonical garden?"

"Botanical," Obi-Wan corrected.  "It means plants.  A zoological garden displays many different kinds of animals, and a botanical garden does the same with plants."

"Then why don't they call it a platonical garden?"

Bail chortled.  "That means something else entirely."

"What?"

"Platonic, it means…."  It means what Obi-Wan and I are now, Bail thought ruefully.  "It means friendship."  And maybe that wasn't really such a bad thing.

Softly, Obi-Wan added, "Qui-Gon loved Alderaan's botanical gardens.  He always visited them whenever he came here."

Anakin absorbed this revelation in silence, studying Obi-Wan almost wistfully.  At last he decided, "I'd like to go there.  To the…."  He licked his lips.  He would get it right this time.  "The blatonic…"

"Botanical," Obi-Wan offered.

"Yeah, that."

With the matter decided, they were soon off to the gardens.  It turned out Bail had been quite mistaken.  Anakin loved the gardens, and was equally enamored of trees, shrubs, flowers, and even grass.  He wanted to dive right into the water pond to look for fish amid the lily pads.  He wanted to climb each new tree.  He begged to feed flies to the carnivorous plants, but to no avail.  He stuck his nose into each flower, savoring their fragrances and stroking their silky petals, fingering the serrated leaves, carefully poking thorns.  Obi-Wan managed to turn the visit into a lesson, explaining the basics of botany and plant reproduction to Anakin, who found it fascinating that many plants came in boy and girl varieties.  Bail proved to be educational as well, surreptitiously plucking off blossoms and feeding them to Anakin behind Obi-Wan's back.  Eventually Obi-Wan caught them munching on some peppery flowers.

"You should not be eating the plants," Obi-Wan scolded.

"Why not?" Bail countered.  "They're healthful and nutritious.  You should be pleased he's so eager to eat his vegetables."

"That's not the point."

"What if Anakin gets stranded on some jungle planet?  I'm teaching him which plants he can eat for survival."  Anakin nodded vigorously in agreement.

Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow at the Prince.  "If that were truly your purpose, you could merely point them out."

"But hands-on learning is so much more effective."

"And what if everyone who came to the gardens ate the plants?  There'd be nothing left."

"Well, not everyone does it.  They let me get away with it because I'm a prince of the royal house.  There have to be some perks with the title."

Obi-Wan failed to be convinced, regarding Bail with a disapproving eye.

Bail sighed, conceding defeat.  "Right.  Anakin, this is one of those times when you should listen to your Master and not to me."  Anakin snickered.

"Correction," Obi-Wan interjected, looking at his padawan.  "You should always listen to me."

"That's what I meant," Bail said.

"No more eating the plants," Obi-Wan ordered.

Anakin beamed up at him. "Yes, sir!"  But as Obi-Wan turned away, Bail gave the boy a conspiratorial wink.

With the matter settled, they continued their exploration of the gardens.  Each of them had a different favorite.  Bail liked ivy and vines, any kind of plant that could grow up over bowers or trellises.  He loved walking beneath, saying it make him feel like an ant.  Obi-Wan loved the flowers, the bigger and flashier the blossoms, the better.  His favorite was a plant that produced flowers the span of both his hands in brilliant shades of red and orange.

But Anakin liked the grass best.  On Tatooine, the ground was nothing but rock and sand.  What plants there were grew wild in small clumps, or else were cultivated in pots and containers.  The idea that grass could grow in such profusion as to cover the ground like a carpet amazed him.  He loved to run across it in his bare feet, to roll in it and cover himself with its sweet, green fragrance.  There was a low hill in the middle of the gardens, and the three of them amused themselves rolling down it, Anakin showing off his new gymnastic skills, Bail doing somersaults and cartwheels, and Obi-Wan, with not too much coaxing, indulging in handstands and acrobatic leaps.  They rolled and tumbled and ran until they were covered with green stains, their clothes messed, their hair laced with stray bits of grass.

They rolled finally all the way across the lawn until they came to a field of flowers, where they stopped lest they crush the blossoms.  As they lay panting in the grass, Obi-Wan reached out and gently fingered one, a tiny, bell-shaped blossom of pale violet.  "This was Qui-Gon's favorite," he said quietly.

Anakin immediately fell silent, his gaze riveted on Obi-Wan.  "What's it called?"

"Morning bell," Obi-Wan supplied.  He leaned forward, breathing in the flower's perfume.  "It has a very delicate scent."

Anakin and Bail mimicked him, sniffing the flowers.  "It's really nice," Anakin sighed.  He studied the flower, his brow furrowed in thought.  "I've seen this one before, in the Temple gardens."

Obi-Wan chuckled.  "Qui-Gon planted them, much to the dismay of the Garden Master."

"Doesn't the Garden Master like them?"

"They're wildflowers," Obi-Wan explained, "what some people would call weeds.  The Garden Master feared they would take over the gardens, but Qui-Gon kept planting them anyway, and finally the Garden Master permitted them to grow in one corner."  Obi-Wan's gaze returned to the flowers, his expression soft and tender. "Qui-Gon loved wildflowers best.  He said they were flowers the way nature intended them, and not perverted to suit the tastes of sentient beings."  He gently stroked the slender stem, his gaze far away. "Wildflowers suited his temperament.  Wild and untamed and independent.  He was just like them."

Anakin studied Obi-Wan closely, filled with longing.  He wanted to hear more about Qui-Gon, wanted Obi-Wan to keep talking, to tell stories about the man Anakin had known for far too brief a time.  Maybe he wouldn't have to forget Qui-Gon after all.  "I miss him," Anakin said plaintively.

Obi-Wan looked up at him, as if seeing the boy for the first time. "So do I."

It was the confession Anakin needed most to hear.  With a sob, he threw himself into Obi-Wan's arms, and as Obi-Wan embraced the trembling boy, he finally permitted himself the luxury of tears.  They wrapped themselves in each other, bound together in their common grief.

Bail sat to the side, his eyes dry.  He could mourn Qui-Gon's passing, but he didn't truly grieve the man.  He hadn't known him well enough.  He could empathize with Obi-Wan and Anakin in their loss, but he didn't share it.  He was glad the two of them had each other, glad they had come together.  Things were as they were meant to be.

His own grief was that their new bond seemed to have no room for him.