Sparks of Hope (A Star-Wars Advent Calendar)

By Meysun

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2. Serendipity (Qui-Gon)

45 BBY

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Qui-Gon was not sure what had woken him precisely. His first thought was rain, drumming against the windows and the Temple's roofs, and for a while he listened quietly. It was so rare for Nature to reclaim its rights on Coruscant, yet the downpour had not paused for two days now, dampening everything.

Cleansing the upper levels.

A soft, small sound sounding suspiciously like a muffled cough made him sit up, realising it came from the kitchen – he turned to his chrono, frowning when he saw the time. It was much too early even for Obi-Wan to be up and about, except… Except his little Padawan had a tendency to sleepwalk, every once in a while. It was becoming rarer, and Qui-Gon really tried to be attentive to signs of stress through their training bond – Obi-Wan had not seemed upset, rather quiet and even subdued the past evening, despite his obvious delight in kata-practice earlier.

His Padawan had felt so sparkling during that shared, teaching moment, so eager to meet him in the Force and to learn, after weeks and weeks spent off-planet in more or less shady transports…

Qui-Gon sighed, getting up, draping his robe around him, heading for the kitchen. He found his Padawan barefoot, hair mussed, trying to make sense of a package of children's Letynol's description, arm wrapped around his chest and shivering slightly.

"Obi-Wan…?"

His Padawan raised racoon-like eyes towards him and Qui-Gon instantly stepped up to him, testing his cheek and forehead with the back of his hand. He shook his head quietly, shrugged out of his robe and wrapped it around his little robin, then he lifted him, cradling him against his chest.

He could feel his Padawan's discomfort through their bond, the stuffed nose, headache and chills, the pain whenever he swallowed, and quietly grabbed the Letynol - he had water in his room.

Master, you don't need to…

The soft voice was faint in his head and Qui-Gon just placed a hand on Obi-Wan's nape, making a beeline for the bed.

"Come here. One pill should be enough for a little lightweight like you."

He pulled the covers back with the Force, gently easing his Padawan on the mattress. The robe was dwarfing him, making him seem even more childlike, but Qui-Gon resisted the urge to wrap his arms around him and simply handed him the pill and a glass of water.

"Obi-Wan, whenever you are feeling unwell, or hurt… You need to wake me, little one. There is no need for you to try to deal with it on your own, this is what I am here for. You are my Padawan, Obi-Wan."

I know.

The boy's words were even softer, almost bewildered, and this time Qui-Gon sat down next to him, pulling the covers back on them both, wrapping an arm around Obi-Wan's waist, leaning him against him.

His Padawan blew his nose, tucking the used handkerchief back into his sleeve with an expression that made him smile – sometimes the little one just looked so stern and dignified, it almost put Mace to shame.

Obi-Wan was still a child, though, and soon melted against him, resting a hot face against his neck, small hand moving to rest against his shoulder, so very trustingly. Qui-Gon carded his fingers through his hair, brushing damp strands away from his forehead, and watched Obi-Wan close his eyes. He soon felt the boy relax as he fell back to sleep, puffing small, congested breaths into his chest.

And Qui-Gon was invaded with a pure, warm and somewhat heart-breaking sensation, more cleansing than the rain still brushing windows and roofs, streets and homes.

He fell asleep arms drawn around the stubborn, quiet, wonderful child he was lucky enough to be entrusted with. And he smiled once he woke, finding Obi-Wan still wrapped in his robe, huddled against his side, hair damp with sweat but still slightly snoring, cheeks tinged with pink.

They had nowhere to be that day – and coming to think about it, it was probably why his Padawan's body had chosen to crash, what with them running from one errand to the next ever since Hosnian Prime…

So Qui-Gon quietly got up, gently placing the covers back around Obi-Wan, and brewed himself a pot of tea, taking a data-pad back with him.

He indulged into an hour of reading, then into an ever rarer pleasure, picking a game of crosswords, nibbling at his stylet as he tried to solve the grid, his Padawan a warm, soft weight against his right thigh and hip.

Qui-Gon was frowning at the words "chance defines my findings" – that was certainly not to be found in the Jedi code, but would give him eleven letters, undoubtedly helping him to move along… For now, however, he seemed to be stuck, and was about to console himself with tea when a hoarse voice next to him croaked:

"Serendipity."

He turned, bewildered, towards his Padawan who had not even bothered to open his eyes, but had moved closer, pressing a sleepy face into his side, coughing into his sleeve like the good boy he was.

"Try serendipity, Master."

Qui-Gon wrapped an arm around the boy and pulled him even closer, placing the data-pad on his raised knee so as to free a hand, drawing quiet patterns into Obi-Wan's hair, smiling when he heard him sigh contentedly.

Serendipity had no role into bringing them together - but it solved the riddle.

It solved the riddle beautifully.

A/N: Lytenol is an anagram of Tylenol, also known as Paracetamol. And serendipity is one of my favourite words - because I learned the word in medical history class (some discoveries were made that way) and also because of Andrew Bird's live song 'The Water Jet Cilice' whose lyrics could fit Obi and Satine in such a beautiful way - I so imagine Obi-Wan loving this artist on stolen moments, and I just loved imagining Qui-Gon having fun with crossword-riddles. That pair of Master/Padawan really owns my heart :).

Have a lovely December 2nd with tea, nice words and general goodness. Much love, stay safe, Meysun.