Julune met him at the door, barely blinking at the sight of the limp child in his arms. "Dearheart, you've always had a penchant for bringing home strays, but this takes the cheese-tart."
"I know, darling. I'm sorry. How ever do you put up with me?"
She chuckled gently, already moving to fetch a sheet from the basket in the corner. "It's a daily struggle. And don't apologize when you don't have to—save it for when you really need it." She laid the sheet over the couch and plumped a cushion to pillow the boy's head, sparing a moment to toss her husband a smile, dark eyes warm and glowing. "You know I love you for your smushy big heart. I take it that this is Obi-Wan Kenobi?"
Qui-Gon nodded as he knelt to lay the boy on the improvised bed. "He's very ill, and he's obviously been through some sort of ordeal. I don't know what happened to him, and he can't remember."
He sat back on his heels, and Julune gasped faintly at her first full sight of the boy. Qui-Gon didn't blame her; his own heart clenched painfully at the view. The flushed, grimy youngster looked much, much worse in full light.
"Oh my. Those bruises—are they from fingers?"
Qui-Gon frowned, lightly running his fingertips over the long contusions on the slim jaw. "They certainly look like it, don't they? I'm beginning to think someone kidnapped the poor child from the Enrichment Zone. He certainly couldn't have run that far in this condition."
"Where was he?"
"Just northwest of Bandor. At least a day's walk on foot from the Southern Zone. He didn't do that on his own, unless he stole a vehicle, and somehow that strikes me as utterly impossible. He's an honest lad, brave and forthright."
"You know that, do you?" A hint of humor stole into Julune's rich voice.
Qui-Gon nodded solemnly. "Indeed I do."
Julune sighed, and fell easily into the medical training she had abandoned to pursue scientific research, her shoulders straightening perceptibly, eyes sharpening as she studied the ragged boy. "I'm going to fetch some water. You'd better comm Heim Shilbey."
He watched her walk down the short hall to the refresher, then crossed the common room to the wall-comm, his troubled gaze slipping back to the unconscious boy. Obi-Wan had not stirred since Qui-Gon had first laid him in the speeder. That couldn't be a good sign.
Qui-Gon entered the comm frequency for the Southern Zone, and was answered by the worried young face of Nira, his gossip companion from earlier in the day.
"Mr. Jinn! Do you have news? We haven't found anything, and Master Shilbey is very concerned . . ."
Qui-Gon raised a hand soothingly, his eyes straying back to the couch. Julune knelt there now with a bowl and a cloth, carefully washing the dirt from Obi-Wan's face and hands. "Yes, I have news. I found the boy—he's here right now. He's safe. But he's very ill, and I don't think it would be wise to move him."
"You . . . you took him to your house? But, Mr. Jinn . . ."
"It was closer. Please, Nira, don't worry. My wife is a trained nurse. We'll take care of Obi-Wan. It's no trouble, truly. The child seems to be in need of some attention, and we are glad to give it." She seemed about to protest again, and he continued firmly. "I know you have plenty to take care of in the zone, especially with nightfall. Call off the search and take care of your duties, and you and Heim are welcome to visit us tomorrow."
He strengthened his words with just the lightest touch of the Force, wondering if it even worked over a comm. He hadn't had much call to use this skill, either, and wasn't sure if he was doing it correctly. But Nira blinked slowly, then nodded.
"All right. Thank you, Mr. Jinn. Oh, Master Shilbey is not going to be happy . . ."
She signed off before Qui-Gon could reassure her, and he stared at the comm for a moment, sighing, then walked back over to the couch and stood there looking down at the child he felt such an inexplicable need to protect and care for. Julune had drawn back the cloak and removed the boy's stained and torn tunic, revealing a few more bruises scattered across his rib cage, larger one on his shoulder. It looked like someone had been poking him with something hard, like a blaster muzzle or some sort of prod.
Kidnapping was looking like more and more of a possibility. But who would do such a thing, and why? A lowly Agri-Corps worker would have no value as a hostage, and someone so young could not possibly have enemies. It made no sense.
Qui-Gon knelt gracefully, leaning against the arm of the couch, and touched Obi-Wan's forehead with tentative fingers. He tried to direct the Force to flow through him, to take away the pain and soothe the fever. After a moment, the boy's eyelids began to flutter, and his entire body stiffened, fighting against invisible bonds. "Shhhh," Qui-Gon whispered. "It's all right. Don't be afraid."
Obi-Wan settled back with a tiny, muffled whimper. His face tightened in a mask of pain, deathly pale save the two hectic spots of fever-flush high on his cheeks, and the livid bruises on his jaw and forehead. Julune set aside her cloth and began to stroke his forearm with her slender fingers, moving in slow, gentle lines from elbow to wrist. "You're safe here, Obi-Wan. We're going to help you. Can you wake up, just a little? I need you to take some medicine."
The young eyes squeezed tightly shut in denial, a stubborn set appearing around the cracked lips. Qui-Gon felt a smile tugging at his own mouth—brave and forthright the lad might be, but already Qui-Gon could see the shadow of future defiance. A strong will to match the bright spirit. "It's all right, little one. Come now, open up."
With painful slowness, the boy's eyes opened to mere slits, and he peered up, craning his head to see as his forehead wrinkled in doubt. "Qui-Gon?" It was a dry, cracked whisper, tentative and wary, but with an edge of . . . hope?
"It's me. This is my wife, Julune Graffon-Jinn."
Obi-Wan slowly turned his head to stare at the woman who continued to stroke his forearm, smiling her greeting. "Oh." It was a bare whisper, faintly embarrassed.
Julune's smile broadened. "No shame, sweetie. You're ill and in a fair amount of shock. I'm not offended. How are you feeling?"
The boy shivered suddenly, shrinking back into the cushions. "C-cold."
Qui-Gon frowned. The skin under his fingers was still blazing hot.
Julune pulled the cloak back around him, briskly efficient. "Qui-Gon, find the extra quilt, will you? I'll get the medicine, and a glass. He needs fluids."
Qui-Gon hated to abandon the boy even for the brief moments needed to fetch the wedding quilt his mother had made, tucked into a trunk at the foot of their bed. He returned to the common room, hearing the rattling of dishes in the kitchen as Julune retrieved a plastiform cup. Obi-Wan had struggled into a slumped sitting position on the couch, clutching the cloak at his shoulders, and his blue-gray eyes were filmed with tears.
The man hesitated, then sat next to him, gently spreading the quilt over the shuddering child. "What's wrong, little one?" Besides the obvious, of course.
Obi-Wan's head lolled against the back of the couch as he turned painfully to look at his rescuer. "I . . . I don't understand. Why are you being so kind to me?"
"Because you need it," Julune said, approaching the couch with the necks of two medicine bottles clasped in one fist, the other holding a tall glass of muja juice. "Because you deserve it. And because we can."
Obi-Wan did not break eye contact with Qui-Gon. "But you don't even know me."
Qui-Gon had allowed Julune's words to wash over him, and he saw as clearly as the boy did that there was more to the question . . . and to the answer. "I know you," he murmured, and carefully laid his hand on the side of the boy's face. "And you know me. Don't you?"
The flesh around the boy's eyes twitched almost imperceptibly, but he did not draw away from Qui-Gon's touch, and his eyes remained steady. They even seemed to lighten, somewhat, clearing from a murky blue-gray to a more natural-looking blue-green. "Yes," he whispered. "I know you."
"Then you know why."
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and nodded slightly, wearily, his face shifting beneath Qui-Gon's hand.
Julune cleared her throat, vigorously shaking one of the medicine bottles. "Ready, sweetie? This stuff doesn't taste just the best, but I promise it will be over soon."
The boy nodded again and turned to face her, and Qui-Gon let his hand fall from the flushed cheek to rest on a blanketed shoulder. Julune frowned, reading the directions on the bottle.
"Hmm. This says it shouldn't be taken on an empty stomach. When was the last time you ate?"
More color flooded into Obi-Wan's cheeks, looking just as unhealthy as that already there. "I . . . I don't remember."
The woman gaped at him. "Don't remember? I don't think I've ever met a teenage boy who doesn't gulp everything in sight."
"I just haven't been hungry lately. And I'm still twelve years old . . . won't be thirteen for two weeks yet."
Qui-Gon was surprised by the defensiveness in the boy's tone. Most youngsters were pleased to be mistaken for older than they were. Maybe there was something significant about this thirteenth nameday. "How long is 'lately'?" he asked mildly. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you've lost weight even since the last time I saw you, little more than a week ago."
Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably, unable to look at either of them. "I just . . . haven't felt like eating. No one seemed to notice until now. Why does it matter?" Why do you care? Qui-Gon could feel the unspoken question, bewildered and hurt. Why didn't anyone else? I don't matter. I've never mattered to anyone. Why start now
Julune's frown deepened. "It matters. Here, start with the juice." She held out the glass, jerking it insistently when the boy hesitated to take it. "I'll go get something a little more substantial."
The boy slowly slid his hand through a gap between the cloak and quilt and accepted the glass. His hand shook, and Qui-Gon quickly wrapped his own around the glass as well, holding the smaller fingers in place. Julune spoke to her husband with her large, dark eyes for a moment, then stalked back into the kitchen.
Still Obi-Wan made no move to drink, just holding the glass, shaking softly with fever and confusion. Qui-Gon waited for a moment, then wrapped his free arm around the slight shoulders and gently began to lift the juice to the trembling lips. "We care about you, Obi-Wan," he said. "Do you really need a reason? Can't you just accept it?"
"Doesn't make sense," the boy mumbled. But he drank the juice in tiny, tentative sips, grimacing as nausea gripped him, pausing now and then to rest from the strenuous task of taking nourishment. He seemed too weary to fight any longer—he accepted Qui-Gon's answers because he no longer had the strength to question them.
He obeyed Julune with the same listless acceptance when she returned with thin soup and soft bread, spouting medical wisdom about protein and carbohydrates. Still, he ate barely a third of what she'd brought, earning more prodigious frowns. The same with the medicine, antipyretic and pain-reliever alike—he cooperated sluggishly, leaning more and more heavily against Qui-Gon as exhaustion accumulated in his too-slender body, his expression twisting only momentarily at the less-than-pleasant taste. And then he fell into a heavy, loose-limbed sleep, still burning with fever, still tense with a nervous anxiety that their startlingly novel care could not ease.
Qui-Gon laid the boy gently on the couch, tucking the covers tightly around him, then stood next to his wife. Both Jinns looked down at the child who had suddenly come into their keeping, so burdened and worn. Obi-Wan seemed to shudder under their gaze, turning his face toward the back of the couch, shoulders hunching under the thick quilt.
"I'm sorry, dearheart," Qui-Gon said. And he meant it. "This is turning out to be a lot more than just another one of my projects. I'm sorry you have to deal with it."
Julune turned to face him, her eyes fierce, and reached up to tangle her fingers in his beard, holding his face in both hands. "Darling, we are one. Your burdens are my burdens—your cares are my cares. This poor, suffering child has made a claim on you somehow, through the Force or through something more simple. And as your heart belongs to me, so does the claim. I wouldn't have it any other way." She glanced at the boy, her eyes softening. "Besides, I think he's made a claim on me, too. Didn't take long," she added musingly.
Qui-Gon laughed and swept her into his embrace. "Oh, my precious Julune. We are too much alike."
She grinned mischievously, standing on tiptoe to kiss his lips. "Or just enough."