Qui-Gon sensed the visitors coming before they reached the door and went out to meet them, preventing a ringing of the chime. Obi-Wan had been exhausted after breakfast, but had been unable to settle down for the necessary nap for some time, his thoughts too chaotic and confused. Qui-Gon had not been able to help calm him at all, his own mind similarly disquieted. Finally the boy had found rest, after much tossing and turning and twitching, and Qui-Gon wanted nothing to disturb him.
It was Heim Shilbey and Nira. They started a bit at his sudden appearance at the door, his finger to his lips. For a moment the three just looked at each other. Then Qui-Gon motioned for them to come inside.
"Obi-Wan is asleep," he murmured. "Follow me to the kitchen. We'll talk there."
They treaded softly through the common room. Qui-Gon noticed the cautious glances his visitors turned toward the sleeping boy, their eyes full of relief and concern, and some of the dark doubts he had been harboring began to ease. But he still had many questions.
The two Agri-Corps workers sat at the small table, a bit cramped in the limited space. Qui-Gon moved quietly about the kitchen, playing host. "Tea? Sugar tarts? I believe we have some poli fruit and sweetberries, too."
Shilbey nodded slowly. "That would be a kindness. Thank you, Mr. Jinn."
"It's Qui-Gon. Please. We should have been on a first-name basis since our first meeting, and I see no need to change my mind on that." At least not yet. It all depended on what sort of answers the Agri-Corps supervisor would give him.
Again the slow nod. "Very well, Qui-Gon. I appreciate your generosity."
Before long they sat at the table looking at each other, an untouched plate of tarts and fruit between them. Qui-Gon wrapped his hands around the warm porcelain of his cup and inhaled deeply of rich herbal fumes. He liked his tea brewed strong and dark. His visitors could like it or not as they chose—he was only making one pot.
Nira glanced between the two men nervously as silence stretched and they continued staring at each other. "So . . . how is young Kenobi, then?" she asked. "You said he was ill?"
Qui-Gon sat back slightly in his chair. "He had a bad fever last night. It has broken, but he's still very weak. He'll need time to recover. And I must say that I am disturbed by the causes behind his illness."
"Oh, you're disturbed?" Shilbey's eyes narrowed. "What right do you—"
"What causes do you speak of?" Nira interrupted, leaning forward to snag a tart and popping it quickly into her mouth. "Mmmm. These are exquisite. Who's the chef?"
Qui-Gon frowned. He took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea. Tea-drinking could be soothing, he'd read somewhere. "The bakery down the street. I'm speaking of Obi-Wan's utter exhaustion and that he apparently hasn't eaten at all since he came to Bandomeer, and no one in the Agri-Corps noticed. I'm speaking of the bruises all over his face and upper body, some of which have the distinctive shape of human fingers.. I'm speaking of the fact that he somehow managed to get a full day's walk away from the Enrichment Zone in a condition that seemed more conducive to crawling than walking. These little quirks are what I find disturbing. Don't tell me that they're normal in new Agri-Corps workers?"
Nira froze in mid-chew, and Heim Shilbey bristled for a moment, straightening his shoulders as if bracing himself for a fight. Then he deflated with a long sigh, like a smashball with a sudden leak, his head sinking toward his still-full teacup. "No. And yes."
Qui-Gon took another deliberate sip. "What do you mean?"
Heim scrubbed a hand over his face and lifted his head to look the other man in eye. "I mean that some of that is normal, yes. Youngsters who come to us from the Jedi Temple are often very homesick and depressed for the first few weeks. We knew that this boy was taking it particularly hard, that he was having trouble sleeping and had lost his interest in just about everything, including meals."
"But he was always very dutiful and obedient," Nira supplied. "I thought it was starting to pass. Never expected him to run away like this. It must have been worse than we thought."
Her superior shook his head thoughtfully. "No, something else must have happened. You said he has bruises? And he was a full day's walk from the zone?"
Qui-Gon nodded. Some of the tension that had been building in his chest since these two first arrived at his home was slowly beginning to uncoil. "I don't think he ran away. He couldn't have made it that far on his own. Were any of your vehicles missing last night?"
"No. Which means . . . an outsider must have taken him away."
"Forcibly, judging by his bruises. Unless someone within the Agri-Corps was bullying him."
"Unlikely." Heim's shoulders straightened again, his eyes steady and forthright. He lifted the teacup and sniffed it suspiciously, then set it back down. "We would have known. Anger is often an issue with new recruits—we work very hard to overcome that on an individual basis, and no one currently on staff is struggling with violence or aggressive tendencies. And certainly no one would dare to harm a young boy. We would have crushed such intolerable activities immediately, and the perpetrator would probably be sent away." He risked a small sip of the tea, his lips pursing tightly for moment, then drank more deeply. "I don't understand. Didn't you ask the boy what happened? He would be able to answer your questions better than I."
"He doesn't remember. At that point I think he was nearly delirious from fever." Qui-Gon took another long, slow sip. One more question, and he might be satisfied that the Agri-Corps hadn't been criminally negligent—just unobservant. But they'd better have a very good answer. "That's another thing that bothers me. Obi-Wan said that the last thing he remembers clearly was working, spreading fertilizer on Grain Field 4. This while he was so ill, so 'hot and dizzy,' as he put it, that he was having trouble walking. Do you usually send your recruits out to work in the fields when they're feeling poorly?"
The young woman shook her head, eyes wide with horror. "Of course not! What kind of monsters do you think we are? We had no idea the boy was feeling so badly—he never said. He would have been put to bed at once if he had mentioned such symptoms to anyone."
"But we did know that he was isolating himself." Heim sighed and covered his eyes with one hand. "We should have noticed—should have kept a closer eye on him. We try to put our new recruits to work at once, it's true, even when they're homesick and depressed. We want them to find something of interest in the Agri-Corps, something to give them purpose, and letting them mope and brood accomplishes nothing. But we should have realized that it wasn't working in this case."
Heim pushed his hand up his sun-browned forehead, revealing his eyes, and incidentally forcing his white-streaked hair up in a messy-looking puff. It did much to make him look human in Qui-Gon's eyes, with the same inherent foibles and idiosyncrasies and flaws as any other man. "We have fallen down on the job, and the boy suffered for our failure. It is inexcusable, and I don't blame you for distrusting us. Your interest in the youngster—your defense of him—speaks highly of your character. I apologize for thinking badly of you earlier."
Qui-Gon nodded gravely, accepting the apology. "I ask your forgiveness, as well. You must understand how it appeared to me. I assumed that it was neglect and lack of care that led to Obi-Wan's condition, but I see now that you meant him well. And I understand why you would be suspicious of my motives in taking a young stranger into my home. Please understand that everything I've done has only been out of concern for the child's welfare. I've grown very fond of him, as has my wife."
"You have a large heart, Mr. Jinn . . . Qui-Gon."
The two men smiled at each other, a genuine expression of companionship and shared understanding. Nira's smile was more of the species of relief, though. She ate another tart, much more slowly than the first.
Qui-Gon sighed, looking sadly at the dregs in his cup. Perhaps he should have brewed another pot, after all. "There's still the question of how Obi-Wan got so far out in the first place. I suspect kidnapping, but I can't imagine a motive."
Heim frowned thoughtfully, sucking down another long draught of his tea. "We'll probably never know."
"But if it was kidnappers, young Kenobi managed to escape them," Nira put in. "And that while he was feeling far from his best. They don't sound very dangerous to me."
Qui-Gon's brow wrinkled, but Heim nodded slowly. "Or at least, such a gross failure should put them off trying again. I don't sense any danger from the Force." Still, turmoil remained in his expression, the look of a man perturbed by memory or instinct, but without the proof to lend credence to his fears.
Qui-Gon opened his mouth, then shut it. He did feel a warning, but it was faint and unclear, as much had been since the day he first met this beleaguered child. It might not have to do with the kidnappers at all. And he wasn't sure that he should reveal his Force-sensitivity just yet, though it was possible that he was more attuned—and, perhaps, more powerful—than these former Jedi initiates.
There were many more questions, including what it meant when two strangers became bonded, what should be done about it. He also wanted to know what he could do to strengthen the connection, which was still dimmed and silent, though the dark blotches were beginning to dissipate. But he doubted that Heim knew the answers. And again, the Force told him to wait.
Heim finished his tea and set the cup down with a long exhale, both satisfied and saddened. "In any case, I can see that we need to make some changes back at the zone. And not only in our security measures." He offered Qui-Gon a small smile. "I guess there's only one thing left to discuss."
Qui-Gon just looked at him, some of the wariness returning. "Whether you should take Obi-Wan back to the zone now, or let him stay here for his recovery."
"I was going to say when we should take the boy back, but that works, yes."
Nira frowned. "Why don't we ask the boy? He's had a lot of decisions taken out of his hands recently—maybe he'd like to make this one for himself."
"Why do you think that?" Heim asked.
"Because he's been standing in the doorway for quite some time now, and he doesn't look particularly happy."
Qui-Gon turned sharply toward the door between the kitchen and the common room, taking in the sight of the weary, pale-faced youngster, his pinched expression and creased forehead. The man started to get up to go to him, but made himself sit still, only rocking forward in his chair a little. Obi-Wan was standing on his own two feet, though leaning heavily against the door jamb, and Qui-Gon knew that he wanted to stay there.
Instead he simply gestured for the boy to join them. "Come have some fruit. There's plenty."
Fortunately, it took only two steps to cross the small space, and Obi-Wan plopped down in the last chair at the tiny table. Nira immediately offered him her untouched tea, but Qui-Gon suspected that it would remain un-drunk. A shame. Obi-Wan gingerly accepted a slice of poli and took a small bite, then set it down next to his cooling teacup.
Heim looked at his young recruit for a moment, then seemed to come to some sort of decision. "Do you have any thoughts, Kenobi?" he asked gently.
The boy drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment, then released it. "I'd like to stay here, sir." He looked quickly to Qui-Gon. "If, if that's all right . . ."
"You are always welcome here, Obi-Wan. Julune and I would be glad to have you for as long as you can stay."
"I—I'd like that." Obi-Wan looked cautiously at his supervisor.
Heim pursed his lips for a moment, then nodded. "It looks like you need a break. When you're feeling better, we'll try again, all right? You should at least give the Agri-Corps a chance. And if you're truly unhappy with us, there are always other options."
"Th-thank you, sir. I'll do my best."
Qui-Gon was not entirely satisfied. But he knew that this was the best he could expect, at least for now. He said nothing, simply nodded in approval of this plan. Obi-Wan would need at least a week to recover fully, considering how weak and run-down he was. A lot could happen in that time.