Chapter 9: More Than a Guest

The rest of the visit passed in meaningless chit-chat, pursued by more cups of tea, fruit and tarts. Obi-Wan ate very little, and left the tea alone after one cautious sip. Qui-Gon noticed this, and wordlessly fetched a glass of water and set it near the boy's hand, looking firmly into his eyes until the youngster sighed and nodded. He also removed a sugar-tart from the lad's hand and replaced it with a cluster of sweetberries. Dehydration and malnourishment were twin enemies that he was determined to vanquish as quickly as possible. Better if Obi-Wan chose to be his ally in this, but he would fight alone if he had to.

But Nira's observation proved itself true; Obi-Wan was very dutiful and obedient, even in these small matters. More—he was eager to please. Too eager. When Qui-Gon stood to walk their visitors to the door, Obi-Wan clambered to his wobbly feet as well, offering to clean up.

Qui-Gon looked at the boy steadily for a moment, but he could see the pleading in his eyes. Let me do this little thing. Let me prove that I am not completely useless. The man nodded reluctantly, and refrained from asking the boy to be careful. It was just a few dishes. Surely he couldn't hurt himself doing that, even as weak as he was.

Once outside, Heim Shilbey headed down to the Agri-Corps speeder, parked hastily and crookedly along the street. Nira lingered for a moment by the door, fidgeting slightly with her hands.

"Mr. Jinn . . ." she began hesitantly.

He tried to look as open and unthreatening as possible. "Yes, Nira? He's waiting for you."

She nodded jerkily. "Yeah. I just wanted you to know . . . Master Shilbey isn't so bad. He takes his job really seriously, and maybe he isn't the softest pitten in the galaxy, but he means well. He hates to see one of his kids get hurt, and he truly believes that the Agri-Corps is the best place to be. A few years ago a recruit was seduced away . . . not by the dark side, but by a man. Two years later Heim found her living alone in a ghetto, trying desperately to feed herself and her two little children. Her . . . husband," Nira rolled her eyes most expressively, "had abandoned her.

"Heim set her up with a job and a home on Corellia, paid out of his own pocketbook to make sure she would be all right, or as all right as she could be. Ever since then he's taken great care to make sure that we feel at home and happy in the Agri-Corps. I know he didn't mean to ignore little Kenobi's problems—he was frantic when the boy went missing, and very worried to learn that he wasn't coming back immediately. So please don't think badly of him . . . he never meant any harm, far from it."

All of this said was said very quickly and quietly, and Qui-Gon listened intently. At last he smiled at the worried girl, and gently patted her shoulder. "You are a good peacemaker, Nira. I don't think badly of Heim Shilbey, nor of the Agri-Corps. I think Obi-Wan was meant to come here, and Julune and I were meant to help him. All is well. I am grateful for your good wishes."

Nira bobbed a relieved little nod and hurried down to the speeder, where Qui-Gon had no doubt she was saying something similar to her supervisor. Perhaps she was telling him about how Qui-Gon had subtly taken care of Obi-Wan, even while keeping up the conversation and being a gracious host—he had noticed her dark eyes taking in every movement, every gesture, every nuance of expression and body language.

Indeed, she was a good peacemaker. He didn't understand why no one at the Temple had seen that, and taken her as a Padawan while there was still time. She would have been a marvelous negotiator, with training and experience. A shame to waste such talent. But it was also clear that she loved her current mission, loved the green growing things under her care.

Qui-Gon heaved a silent sigh and went inside to make sure that Obi-Wan was managing the kitchen all right.

X

Julune came home quietly, poking her head in to look around a bit before entering and closing the door softly behind her. Qui-Gon grinned at this—usually his wife hurtled in the door with a joyous shout, alerting her husband to her arrival so he would be prepared if she chose to jump into his arms. Already they were making small, unconscious changes to accommodate their young guest, and it seemed perfectly natural to do so.

Her eyes caught Qui-Gon sitting on the couch with a datapad in his lap, Obi-Wan curled up against him fast asleep. She tiptoed across the common room and sat on Qui-Gon's other side, though she peered around his broad frame to peek at the sleeping boy for a moment. The couch was just big enough to hold the three of them in comfort—give Julune a few weeks to grow and it might not anymore. But by then they would be home on Thyferra, Qui-Gon hoped.

And where will Obi-Wan be then? he wondered suddenly, a slight crease appearing between his eyebrows. The Jinns were only scheduled to stop on Bandomeer for another two weeks. What would become of this lonely child when they had to leave him behind?

"How was Obi-Wan today?" Julune murmured close to his ear. "Did he eat anything?"

"He finished about half the porridge at breakfast, had two slices of poli and five sweetberries in the morning, managed a slice of bread with velinut butter for midday . . . um, I think he ate another slice of poli this afternoon . . . and that brings us up to date."

Julune sighed. "Not much. He'll need to eat lots of small meals for a time to get his body used to nourishment again, but I think he could handle a little more if he tried."

"He is trying though. And look at this." Qui-Gon tipped his head toward the small reddish-sandy head that rested on his shoulder. "He let me read to him for a while, and quite calmly fell asleep on me. I'd say that's progress, compared to how he was last night."

Julune smiled tenderly. "Yes. He likes you." She tipped her chin up to look into his face, her eyes soft and warm. "Though I don't see how anyone could help liking you, my sweet big papa."

He lowered his head to rub his nose against hers, then pressed their foreheads together. "You see only the good in people."

"Only when there's plenty of good to see."

Qui-Gon was tempted to continue this gooey dialogue, and perhaps take it a little further, but the weight on his other arm prevented him from wrapping it around his wife. He pulled back with a small, regretful sigh. Maybe later. "What were we talking about, again?"

Julune brought her eyes back into focus, not without difficulty. "Mmm, I think it was Obi-Wan. Did he do anything besides eat and sleep? Though those two activities are best for him, come to think of it."

"Yes, he did." Qui-Gon felt the small frown return. "After we had tea with the Agri-Corps, he wanted to clean up the kitchen. I let him—it was only a few dishes, and I knew that he wanted to make himself useful even if in only the smallest ways. But then he wanted to clean up after midday, too, and fold the laundry, and any number of other little household tasks. I don't know, Julune—it's difficult. I want him to feel at home here, to feel that he isn't only a burden on our generosity. But there's no way we can let him turn himself into a domestic servant out of pure gratitude. And I really don't think he ought even to be walking much at this point."

"Well, it sounds like you're balancing it well so far. After all, most children do have chores. Perhaps if we let him do little things here and there that won't do him any harm, he'll feel that he is more than a guest, and start to shed some of this bewilderment. It just breaks my heart to see such confusion in the poor child whenever we show him the smallest scraps of kindness. Though, as you said, it mustn't interfere with his recovery. You had him sit down to fold the laundry, didn't you?"

"But is he?" Qui-Gon asked, very softly. His mind had caught on one of her casually-voiced phrases, barely registering the rest. "Is he more than a guest?"

"Yes." Julune looked him squarely in the eye. "He is more than a guest, my heart. We knew that from the beginning. Now we just need to prove it to the boy."

He kissed her hair, pressing her close. "That's my Julune. I should have known you would see it that way. Yes, I had him sit on the couch to fold the laundry. And I didn't let him clean up after midday, just after tea."

"Oh, that. Did you say something about the Agri-Corps? They didn't come to take him back, did they? I hope you told them no, and perhaps a few more things."

Qui-Gon almost laughed at the fierce, protective glint in her eyes. His chest vibrated with silent chuckles, but he kept his voice quiet, mindful of the youngster who still slept against his opposite shoulder. "Yes, they came. And they weren't quite as horrible as we assumed." He gazed away thoughtfully. "Though come to think of it, they never did call Obi-Wan by his name. It was always 'young Kenobi' or 'the boy.'"

"Typical," she muttered. "Blasted Jedi rules, always have to be so calm and cool and detached from everything . . ." She stared away for a moment, then carefully unfolded herself from the couch, slipping out of his grasp. "I'll start supper. You stay here and let our Obi-Wan sleep awhile longer."

He watched her walk away into the kitchen, still grumbling under her breath, then looked down at the boy who slept so soundly and easily against him. Our Obi-Wan. He mouthed the phrase silently, and found that he liked it. Qui-Gon glanced at the datapad in his hand, then marked his place and shut it off. His casual wish of more than a week ago was coming true. Reading together was becoming a part of the evening routine.

Obi-Wan stirred slightly against his shoulder, and Qui-Gon stilled, looking down at the lad. "S'm'n's comin'," the boy mumbled.

"What did you say, little one?"

The pale eyelids slowly opened, half-aware blue-green gaze aimed away, out the bay window and down the street. "Something's coming," Obi-Wan repeated more clearly, though his voice was still muffled with the remnants of sleep. "No, not something. Someone."

"Who?"

"Someone important." Obi-Wan hid a yawn behind a thin hand, then lifted his head from Qui-Gon's shoulder and sat back against the couch. "You should prob'ly get the door."

Qui-Gon stared at the boy in blank confusion, and Obi-Wan gestured impatiently at the door, yawning enormously. "He—" At last the yawn ended, and Obi-Wan blinked sleepily up at his tall caretaker. "—e's coming."

Qui-Gon looked at the door, and then he felt it too. He got to his feet and crossed the room, opening the door just as the chime began to ring. Scant seconds of foreknowledge hadn't given him much time to prepare, but he instantly recognized the elegant figure and white, well-trimmed beard, the intense eyes beneath their bushy black awnings. "Knight Dooku! So good to see you again."

The new visitor nodded calmly. "Actually, it's Master Dooku, now. How have you been, Qui-Gon? Anything new happening?"