The next day found Obi-Wan walking down the street, covered in the baggy cloak of a beggar. He didn't like the idea of posing as someone who was defenseless, lest a thug decide to take out his anger on him, but Kyra had insisted. He was told that he needed to get used to the streets of the city, and was also told the location of the thugs. Kyra had followed them to their hideout after the murder of her master, but had no way to get inside to retrieve his body. She also had the threat of the same fate hanging over her head.

He stopped near a vendor, pretending to be interested in the dry fruit he was selling. He was really staring at the door of a house, which had a guard stationed at the front. He would growl and threaten anyone who got too close to the door. That was the location of the secret hideout, and Obi-Wan was sure that there were going to be more safeguards than that inside. He was sure that the first part of the hideout at least were bugged with traps that only gang members would be able to get past.

He turned away from the building and paid the vendor for the fruit he was being accused of stealing. He stuck it in his pocket and headed to the pub that was adjacent to the hideout. He stepped inside and was almost immediately surrounded by the smoke of a dozen different pipes. He waved his hand in front of his face, then called upon the Force to help keep his face clear of the intoxicating junk. He sank into a seat at the bar and threw back the hood of his cloak.

The bartender, who had been watching him carefully when he stepped in, made his way over to the young man. "What can I get you?" he asked gruffly.

"Berakas," Obi-Wan said, ordering a drink he often got when in cantinas. It was alcoholic enough to feed the elusion that he was a regular customer, but enough so to get him drunk quickly. He alien nodded and turned away to fix the drink, setting the vivid blue liquid in front of the Jedi afterwards. "Four credits," he said.

Obi-Wan nodded and dug the money out of a pocket. Then he leaned to the side and watched the comings and goings of customers as he sipped on his drink. The Berakas seemed to warm his stomach, and it took a small edge off of the constant grief that plagued his heart.

A man stepped into the cantina, and for a split-second, Obi-Wan thought it was Qui-Gon. But it was just another tall guy with long hair. Obi-Wan shook his head and downed the rest of his drink, immediately ordering another.

Thirty minutes and five Berakas' later, Obi-Wan was singing along with the band and chatting with everyone. He began to lose all coordination, so the other patrons helped him with his drinks. They all like this guy; he was a funny drunk.

Obi-Wan had just finished telling a horrible joke that was laughed at anyway when a woman appeared in the doorway of the cantina. She wore rough-spun clothes, and her hair was pulled up tightly. She looked around for a moment, then saw the familiar form of Obi-Wan Kenobi sitting at the bar, eyes glassy and a stupid grin on his face. Her heart sunk and she rushed over to him.

"Alright now, Mickael," she said, using the alias he had given Shmi earlier. "I think you've had enough."

The men around her protested, not wanting to lose their new drinking buddy. "C'mon, girly. You ain't his mother. He's a big boy, let him make his own decisions," one man said.

Kyra fixed him with a hard stare. "He's my pilot, and I can't get off the ground tonight with a drunk or hung over pilot." She turned away from them and pried a cup out of Obi-Wan's hands. His goofy smiled had faded, turning into one of loneliness and sorrow. The rapid change startled Kyra, but still she pulled him to the door. He leaned on her the whole way back to his hotel room, where he collapsed on the floor, suddenly sobbing uncontrollably and uncharacteristically. This scared Kyra, and she kneeled down to be closer to his face.

"Obi-Wan? What's wrong?"

He calmed for a moment and looked up at her. "I saw him, I saw him there." He turned away. "I see him everyday. He blames me for what happened to him, he thinks I wasn't good enough to save him."

"Who?" Kyra asked.

"Qui-Gon. He blames me for the Sith." Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands. "But I tried. I tried as hard as I could, did everything I could. It was those damned energy things..." He stopped suddenly, turning to look at her, smiling softly. "He was like a father to me, you know. I only wish I could be the same to Anakin. But I don't know how..."

Kyra suddenly felt her heart go out to the young Knight in front of her, as intoxicated as he may be. She was able to read between the lines and figure out what he grieved about. This Qui-Gon, obviously was his Master, who had just recently been killed by a Sith. And Obi-Wan was blaming himself. He had probably seen someone reminding him of his deceased Master and began to drink, trying to drown out the memories and the guilt. He's just like me, Kyra thought to herself.

She helped Obi-Wan to his feet. "Alright, I think you've done enough for today. Sleep it off, we'll talk about what we're going to do when you're awake and sober."

Obi-Wan smiled goofily. "And what are we going to do when I wake up?"

Kyra shook her head, perturbed. "We're going to figure out how to get into the gang house!" She pulled Obi-Wan over to his sleep-couch and pushed him down onto it. She pulled his boots off roughly, then stood back. "I'll see you later. Don't leave this room!" She stared at the Jedi for a moment as he lay on his back with his hands over his eyes, then silently left the room.