Author's Notes at bottom.


See Chapter One for disclaimer

Enjoy!

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Epilogue

"I really wish there was something more we could do for you."

Garen Muln, sitting in the pilot's seat of the moderately sized Corellian freighter that was transporting him and his fellow Jedi back to Coruscant, looked up from the control panel.  His attention latched onto the hazel eyes of their captain and he silently commanded himself not to fidget.

"I'll admit—it's not everyday I just tell something to anyone, because you never know how they may manipulate it to use it against you, but I honestly feel I had a brush with death back there and I just wanted to—well—"

"S'okay, Kid," the captain said smiling, "no thanks necessary.  Anyway, I should be thanking you."

"Me?" Garen asked confused.

"Yeah, you and your other three crazy Jedi friends.  I was never one for hokey religions, but seeing what the four of you went through—the pain and danger…and the fact that you're still alive to talk about it—makes me wonder if perhaps I've been telling my son—and myself—a lie all these years.  Maybe, just maybe, there is something or someone out there watching over us.  And whether it's your Force or something else, we may never know, but I believe now that there is something in this universe greater than any of us can imagine."

Garen's eyes drifted lazily back to the controls of the ship.  He felt himself itching with the desire to fly again, but his injured left shoulder and burnt right hand, which was bound from wrist to finger tip in soft, bacta soaked bandages, would prevent him from doing so for a little while longer.  Finally, out of curiosity and politeness, he questioned the man.  "You have a son?"

"Yep," their captain replied, pride showing on his weathered features.  "He's not much younger than you—15—and just as good a pilot as myself.  Got mad when I told him he couldn't accompany me on my last run, but I received a message from him the day I picked your two female friends up.  He told me, 'Dad, I may still be mad at you, but I won't ever forget my promise'."

"If you don't mind me asking, what was the promise?" Garen ventured, his curiosity piqued.

Their captain's smile took on a sad underlining.  "His younger brother died not long after his fifth birthday in a speeder bike crash back on Corellia.  His promise is to give me a grandson named after his brother that died.  My youngest son's name was Han."

Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn walked in as the pilot's cheerful grin returned, and settled himself wearily into a nearby chair.  The wounds on his face were all nearly healed by now, as well as the bruises on his arms and the blaster burns.  Addressing the younger Jedi, he informed him that Master Rhara would like an update on how his healing was progressing.  After thanking Qui-Gon and bowing to the cockpit's two occupants, Garen left to find his master.

Qui-Gon watched the young man go, then turned to the captain.  "Please forgive me," he began, "but I'm afraid we were never properly introduced.  Our departure was rather—"

"Rushed?"

"Yes," the Jedi chuckled, extending his hand.  "I am Qui-Gon Jinn.  And you are Captain—"

The other man took the proffered hand firmly in a handshake.  "Solo.  Captain Jacen Solo.  The pleasure's all mine I can assure you.  Glad I could have been of help."

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Garen didn't have to stop to think about where he would find his master as he exited the cockpit.  Sure enough, when he stopped and leaned against the doorway to the ship's small galley, he found Clee Rhara busily preparing a steaming pitcher of hot tea.

"What took you?" she asked good-naturedly, knowing without having to look that he was there.

When no response came, she left the tea she was preparing and strode quickly to his side, worry etched onto her features.  "Garen?" was all the Jedi Master could get out before the apprentice—suddenly looking very young and vulnerable—turned away from her.

"I failed you, Master," came the soft spoken voice of the younger Jedi as he turned back to her, tears glistening in his eyes as he fought valiantly to keep them from falling.  Slipping gracefully to his knees, Garen hung his head, shaking it lethargically from side to side and placing his hands upon his knees.

"Oh, Garen, no," Clee tried gently, but the apprentice was only aware of what he felt was his egregious failure.

"The mission was ruined from the moment I left the Temple.  I thought I could do it by myself; I—I was wrong.  Forgive me, Master.  I will accept with humility whatever punishment you find suitable."

Pursing her lips, Clee placed her hands on her hips before wrapping them around the young man's waist and—with a bit of help from the Force—hauling him to his feet and steering him to a nearby bench.

"Now," she said, clasping his chin in one hand and wiping away one distressed, ashamed tear that managed to slip through his defenses.  "We will have no more of this nonsense.  Understand, Kid?"

When no response came, Clee changed her voice to the no-nonsense tone she used when the situation was serious.  "Look at me when I'm talking to you, Garen Muln!  Good…"  She smiled when his liquid brown eyes found her face and her voice automatically softened to a more motherly tone.  "Listen to me, Kid—I don't know who you've been listening to, but it was obviously the wrong person.  I couldn't be more proud of you than I am right now.  Your mission was a success, and you impressed even Mace, the ol' blockhead…And the way you handled yourself all those months, especially the last few days, tell me you'll make a fine Jedi Knight someday.

"Remember, doubt is your first enemy.  Never doubt yourself, Kid. Besides, that young Marie Kenobi said you were quite brave throughout the entire ordeal and that you remained the picture perfect Jedi even as your own weapon was raised against you."

Clee paused momentarily in her praise and reassurance as Garen's cheeks flushed a soft pink.  Before she could question him, however, he thrust his tightly clenched, left fist towards her.

"Happy birthday, Master," he said quietly, opening his hand to reveal a beautiful necklace made of smooth, polished seashells.  Their hard exterior reflected soft pinks and silvers, giving the necklace an appearance that almost seemed to glow.

Clee took the gift appreciatively, love shining clearly in her eyes when she looked at her apprentice.  The Jedi Master had been born on a planet covered by magnificent beaches and cherished anything related to the sea, but not nearly as much as when it was given to her by the fine young man she so often referred to as simply "Kid".

"It's absolutely wonderful," she breathed, just before her brow etched in confusion.  "But where did you hide it all those months so it would not be taken or become lost?"

Garen laughed nervously.  "That, Master, would be better left unsaid."

Clee smiled and raised one thin, fiery orange eyebrow.  "Oh, really?  Better left unsaid, huh?" she teased, snatching her student into a hug.

Garen rolled his eyes at the intimate gesture.  "Yes, really," came the slightly embarrassed response.  The student began to awkwardly return his master's embrace when he suddenly thought of something and went limp in her grip.  "Uh, Master?"

"Yes, Padawan?"

"How—How do you know when you're really in love with someone and it's not just childish infatuation?"

As Garen finally returned the embrace, Clee Rhara found herself grateful that the young man could not see the gray hairs that suddenly seemed to emerge among her thick, orange curls.

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"…Eventually, the sheer number of soldiers that we were forced to face individually, plus our earlier fatigue and injuries sustained during the days before, allowed us to be captured.  Both Master Jinn and myself tried to retaliate, but both efforts proved to be futile.

"Just as Antiyo Ganfor prepared to behead Padawan Muln—with his own lightsaber—the ship that I am currently aboard appeared and we boarded amongst the flurry of fights that broke out suddenly on the planet.  An indigenous tribe, or rather group of women who have secluded themselves from civilization and are commonly referred to as the 'Mountain Women', arrived and began to do battle with Antiyo Ganfor's men.  It is my belief that part of their reason for coming was to help the Jedi."

Depa Billaba drummed her elegant fingers rhythmically on the armrest of her chair and studied the shimmering holo image standing in the center of the Council chamber.  "And why do you believe this?" she asked, speaking up for the first time since the debriefing of the mission had begun.

The shimmering figure turned in the direction it knew the master was in.  Marie Kenobi took a deep breath and organized her thoughts, knowing that only a few of the masters present would know her well enough to take her word.

"I sensed it," the young woman said defiantly, trying to overcome the uncertainty she felt when coming before the Jedi High Council and remembering the woman who had looked up at her as she rocketed away from the planet.  Marie was almost certain it had been Yuko's mother.

"Well, then, what do you believe happened to Antiyo Ganfor?" Mace Windu asked.

"He was killed."

The senior Council member raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers.  Marie knew the gesture well—it meant he was surprised by some new revelation.

"So sure are you?"

Marie turned to nod in Master Yoda's direction.  "Yes Master, I saw one of the woman warriors…run him through."

"Deceive you, your eyes can."

"I felt it," Marie replied quickly, knowing the little green troll would not be satisfied until then.

As Yoda nodded in acceptance, Marie returned her focus to Mace.

"Congratulations on a successful, first mission, Padawan Kenobi.  The Council, however, would like a more detailed report of the mission by the day after your return," he informed calmly.

"Thank you, Master.  The report will be ready upon my return.  I can transfer the data I have collected now, if you would like?"

The two senior Council members nodded and Marie retrieved her datapad, connecting it to the comm system in Captain Solo's private quarters.  When the Padawan looked up again, she was surprised to find some of the highly revered Jedi Masters smiling at her.

"There is one last matter at hand that needs to be taken care of."

Confusion flitted briefly across Marie's haggard face, still too tired from what had happened during the past week to figure out the "last matter" by herself.

"The Aktins wish to extend a heartfelt thank you.  They would like to take you, and the other three Jedi that became involved in the mission, out to eat the week after your return—if you are all up to it."

Out to eat?  As in at a fancy restaurant? she thought, panic-stricken as she recalled that the Aktins were never stingy with their money.

So that meant she would have to wear a dress again, right?

No, no, Marie thought stubbornly.  You're a Jedi again until your next mission deems otherwise.  No more evil dresses, at least not until the job description calls for it.  Just simple, comfortable tunics and pants.

With this calming thought in mind, the young woman mentally sighed and let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.  Tuning back into the Jedi Master whom was speaking, she was just able to pick up the last thing he said.

"…Marri would like to thank you as well."

"Marri?" Marie asked confused.

Jedi Master Jance Rees suddenly stepped into the line of the holoprojector, a tiny, squirming figure latched firmly to her boot and hidden behind the woman's legs.  Marie clearly saw the symbol of a crèche master on her sleeve and realized the older woman had found a new calling in life.  From around one of her boots, a head and one small, slightly chubby arm appeared.  The young child smiled and giggled softly at the shimmering image of Marie, whom grinned back in return.

Jance smiled and stepped closer to the transparent figure as Marri stretched her arm out further to wave it through the image, awed when it passed unharmed through the gray matter.

"Marie, meet Marri Aktins.  Marri, meet Marie Kenobi, the special Jedi from whom your name was derived."

Temporarily stunned, it took Marie a moment to find her voice.  "The Aktins named her after me?"

"Speak the obvious, you do," Yoda said, mischief lighting his eyes up.  "Thank the Aktins, you should.  But take care of yourself first, you must," the small master admonished, noticing the large cut above the young woman's left eye that still marred her features.

"Of course, Master.  I will do so soon."

"Stubborn like your cousin and his master, you are.  Permanent reminders of mistakes, not all battle wounds should be.  May the Force be with you."

Feeling admonished, but unable to keep the pleased grin from her face any longer, Marie bowed and moved to disconnect the connection.  "May the Force be with you…"

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"So I see you finally got your hot tea, Master."

Obi-Wan Kenobi smiled softly up at his master, his face stiff from the many scabs forming over the many scratches he had acquired.  Nodding, the Jedi Master collapsed good-naturedly into the chair beside his apprentice's sleep couch with a grunt and sipped lightly at his tea, scrutinizing the younger man as he did so.  The Padawan had been correct when telling his master he would heal faster once off that Force-forsaken planet.  Already some improvement could be seen in the healing of his broken ankle, although because the bone had been broken in two places and Captain Solo only carried one working bone-knitter, it would take awhile for it to heal completely.  The bone-knitter that did work was currently surrounding his right arm, which had been broken when the soldiers had so brutally kicked him.

The asphalt burn on his stomach that had been aggravated during the fight was healing again, this time protected by a thick, padded bandage that wound up to cover his chest and protect two ribs that had been bruised.  Nearly all of his scratches and bruises were healed, as Qui-Gon had given him extra energy while he performed his healing trances.  His concussion would be gone soon, as would his master's.

Qui-Gon pulled out of his stupor with a grin.  "Clee told me earlier that she was going to report me for child abuse."

Obi-Wan laughed softly, wary of stressing his ribs.  "And what did you say?"

"I said I was going to report the three of you to the Council for master abuse," Qui-Gon replied, referring to the three Padawans he had been in charge of during the past few weeks.  His eyes were alight with silent laughter, causing pure joy to rush through Obi-Wan's very soul until suddenly—and quite unexpectedly—a distant look appeared in the apprentice's eyes and the mood in the room tangibly darkened.

Reaching up carefully with his left hand, Obi-Wan brushed his fingers along the length of Qui-Gon's graying beard, before moving to gently caress a small lock of long, brownish-gray hair.  Slowly he let his hand fall to his Padawan braid where some of the very same hair was entwined with his own.

"Obi-Wan?" the Jedi Master asked concerned, abruptly pulling the warm cup away from his lips.  "Obi-Wan? Padawan mine, what is it?"

Slowly, like the last leaves of fall dropping from their haven on the tree, the blue-green eyes, forever engraved in Qui-Gon's heart, turned to face him.  For a moment the elder Jedi thought he saw horror written in the eyes that could say more than words ever could, but the emotion was gone as quickly as it had come.

"Never leave me, Master.  Please…"

Distressed and moved by the image of a hooded monster shrouded entirely in black, Obi-Wan reached almost desperately for his master's hand.  He didn't care if what he was feeling was un-Jedi-like; he needed his master, needed to know—whether through his normal five senses or the Force—that Qui-Gon was near.

"Padawan," the master began, but was cut off when Marie and Siri Tachi stepped into the room.

"Bad time?" the former ventured tentatively.

Qui-Gon turned to his apprentice as he felt his hand quickly released.

"No, no, it's OK.  What is it?"  {Master?}

{Yes, Padawan?}

{Thank you.}

{For what?}

{I'm not entirely sure.  Everything…nothing…Just—thank you.}

{Anytime, Padawan mine.  Anytime…}

"Hey Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan turned to Siri as she flopped into a chair.  "Yes?"

"I thought Master Gallia said that pretty little face of yours wasn't messed up.  What happened?"  Siri scrutinized the bruises and scabs on his face, sarcasm adding an edge to her voice.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.  "Oh, ha, ha.  Sheesh, you're becoming more and more like Master Gallia everyday."

At this Siri brightened and flashed a mischievous grin in his direction.  Obi-Wan merely groaned, imagining the two talking behind his back and trying to think of ways to torture and embarrass him.

Clee and Garen arrived at about that moment with the latter carrying a tray of hot tea, which he quickly distributed.  While Marie relinquished her chair for the Jedi Master, unconsciously sidling over to stand next to Garen, Clee passed a teasing glance to her apprentice under long, thick eyelashes.  Garen flushed brightly, crossing his arms over his chest and striking the same pose as the young woman beside him.

Obi-Wan chuckled as he pulled his cup away from his mouth.  "Well, Garen?"

"Well, what?" he asked confused.

"Now's the chance.  Are you going to kiss her or not?"

Garen turned to Marie…Marie turned to Garen…and both Padawans blanched before their cheeks turned ruby red.

Marie, first to overcome the initial shock of it all, dropped her arms to her sides, spilling some of her tea in the process.  "What did you say?" she demanded, her mouth still slightly ajar.

"I'm going to kill you, Kenobi!" Garen added, momentarily forgetting the masters in the room.

Unfazed, Obi-Wan flashed one of his famous, irresistible grins.  "Haven't you two learned anything?" he asked, while Siri turned bright red in her attempt to hold in her laughter.  "Take chances!  Make mistakes!  Don't you know?  You've got to live life to its fullest!"

"I'm gonna live life to its fullest as soon as I get my hands on you," Marie growled, taking a menacing step towards her cousin.  Garen reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her back.

"Allow me," he murmured.

Qui-Gon chose that exact moment to stand and unceremoniously stretch, blocking his Padawan from view of the other two.  Although he and Clee were amused by the two apprentices currently being lectured by one of their own kind, he decided that perhaps it was his protégé's turn to be questioned.  "And what have you learned from this, my very young apprentice?" Qui-Gon asked, purposely stressing 'very young'.

"Never trust a 17-year-old politician."

Qui-Gon's eyebrows rose slowly.  "And?"

"And…oh, yeah!  Of course!"  He laughed softly.  "No matter what the situation is, you have to remember that patience is key."

Marie, now sitting at a small table that Garen had stealthy followed her to, placed her chin in her hands and blew a stray lock of brown hair from in front of her eyes.  "You can say that again," she muttered sarcastically.

"No matter what the situation is—"

"Shut it, Kenobi!"

Obi-Wan just laughed harder…

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The End.

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Well there we go!  It's over!  (And it only took me how long to finish posting it??  LOL)  I want to send out a HUGE thanks to all of those who have reviewed and followed this story to its completion, especially Cerasi5 and Athena Leigh.  I hope everyone enjoyed the story and will find it in their hearts to review.  *Puppy dog eyes*  Puhwease? LOL  Anyway, I don't have any plans for another Star Wars story anytime soon, but I am working on a Lord of the Rings fic called Hope Immortal, so keep checking back with me to see if it's up.

Again, thank you so much everyone.  A story isn't a story unless it has people willing to read and comment on it.  ^_^

Tootles, adios, & ja ne until next time!

--Marie Kenobi