A/N: Hello dear ones, I am back with a new fic in the Still Green Universe :-)!
First of all, I hope you are well and I thank you for still sticking with me and my stories.
This one is about seventeen year-old Obi-Wan, and I found it interesting to mix both post-Mandalore mission and Pijal feels. This is a rather short, introductive chapter, but things will get serious very soon (and we'll meet some well-known characters before we head to Pijal, I promise).
Thank you for reading and enjoy I hope! Much love, Meysun.

Storms on Pijal (Stars of the Darkest Night)

A Star Wars Fanfiction by Meysun

Chapter One: Coming Back

Coruscant, 38 BBY.

.

"I am flying away, my own true love

I am flying away in the morning

Is there something I can send you from across the sky

From the place that I'll be landing?"

.

Obi-Wan could still hear her - her pointed, very articulated voice as she argued, the way she managed to convey her irritation at him as she hissed. The rare softness, as well, when he had been injured, or that one time he had fallen ill and was too weak and confused to keep on walking – and yet she had made him. She – and Qui-Gon of course.

"Obi-Wan?"

His Master's voice rose behind him, and Obi-Wan turned from the windowsill, where he had been busy watering their plants. They had fared surprisingly well in the year-and-some-more of their absence from the Temple, yet to Obi-Wan they seemed puny compared to the wild spaces they had roamed.

With her.

"A little bit more and you will drown them, Padawan", Qui-Gon said softly.

And yet there was caution in his last word – a lingering something Obi-Wan wished he was not responsible for, and yet he was. He carefully tightened his shields, and then he turned to face his Master.

Because Qui-Gon deserved it. Because he was still Obi-Wan's Master, and Obi-Wan his Padawan, despite… her. And the fact that she had nearly made him let go of all this – of the Temple, of the Jedi life, and of his Master.

And it hurt. Everything hurt.

"Padawan", Qui-Gon said once more, and this time there was no caution, just warmth, along with a gentle wave of concern radiating from their bond.

And Obi-Wan looked up, grey eyes awash in a too-thin, tired face. He met Qui-Gon's blue, calm gaze, and then he breathed in, carefully, just like he would have done had he cracked his ribs.

It certainly felt like it.

"Obi-Wan… This mission has been a trial, I am well aware of that. And for what it is worth, I am really proud of you.

- Thank you, Master", Obi-Wan managed to croak.

"But, Padawan mine… I do not want you to feel obliged to hide your hurts. We live a hard life, little one…

- It is nothing, Master", Obi-Wan whispered. "I… really need to clean up – plants are not the only ones yearning for water."

He smiled at Qui-Gon, a small smile that did not reach his eyes, and then he walked past him, towards his room where he pulled clean clothes out of his wardrobe, and into their shared fresher.

He let his clothes fall to the ground and breathed in deeply. These clothes were on him as they had said goodbye. They were the ones her fingers had touched, for the last time, when she had placed a hand on his forearm without kissing him. Simply letting go of him.

Let go of her as well. Just like you shed these clothes, may you release your longing into the Force.

Obi-Wan stepped into the shower, biting his lip, and let the water rain upon his head and body. It was loud enough to cover any sound – but he did not make any as he finally wept, quietly, for what was never meant to be.

.

...

.

Qui-Gon eyed his Padawan worriedly as he watched him disappear into the fresher. That fourteen-month mission had taken a toll on them both, and Obi-Wan had lost weight during that time – being on the run with rationed food and falling ill on top of it clearly had not helped. And he had been pale and silent, almost listless, ever since they had finally left Mandalore.

I am going to make sure to feed you and make you rest, little one. Force knows you need it.

The thing was, his Padawan was no little one anymore, not really. At almost seventeen years old, Obi-Wan still had somewhat childish features, but his body was toned and lean, and his Padawan had a strength and maturity rarely found in Jedi his age. It showed in his eyes, and in the way he held himself. Freckles were still dusting his face, but his features had sharpened as his Padawan braid grew, and right now his hair was much longer than it should, falling on his forehead in unruly waves. They remained Qui-Gon of the little robin he had once been, but they also helped to guess how he would look like as a Knight, when he would finally be able to shed the Padawan-cut.

The girl had made such fun of it – had not hidden her glee at seeing his hair grow. And yet she had been the one cutting it, carefully, every once in a while, on the rare occasions they had found the time.

Carefully, and lovingly.

Qui-Gon sighed. He was not blind, and he knew his little one. Knew that Obi-Wan's heart could be won in a few seconds, but that when it came to love, truly, his Padawan was more of a Jedi than himself.

It had been even more preoccupying, and oddly moving, to see him fall in love for the very first time in his young life – because it was so quiet, and so slow. And Qui-Gon still chided himself for not seeing that what he had viewed as a beginning crush, a way for his Padawan to get acquainted with some facts and feelings no Jedi could ever truly avoid, had actually been the growing roots of something very close to attachment.

Because his Padawan was way too subtle to fall in love with a mere body. No, what he had loved in the girl was her intelligence, her courage and fiery spirit, the way she stood her ground and never seemed to need him, the way she could soften – just as he could. The way she had shared her memories with them – acknowledging the hurt of losing parts of her family, yet showing them she was able to let go.

And his young Padawan – that Stewjoni boy who had also been forced to part from his brother at three years old, and whose honour dictated he would have to renounce so many things – his young Padawan had offered her his friendship first. His trust next. A door to his mind. And finally, though never voiced to Qui-Gon's knowledge, always implicitly – his very heart.

No wonder the boy looked like it had been ripped out of his chest. And yet Qui-Gon was unspeakably grateful for the firm way the girl – Duchess Satine now – had managed to not make the move prying Obi-Wan away from the Jedi.

He was not sure Obi-Wan would have had the same strength. And since it was the first time ever Qui-Gon had witnessed his Padawan being not strong enough to achieve something, his old heart swelled with unwanted compassion. Because there was so little comfort he could offer his boy right now – he could only watch out for him as he mended.

And make him tea.

Obi-Wan's eyes looked brighter than usual once he stepped out of the fresher, hair still damp, dressed in clean clothes – but his Padawan smiled as he spotted the freshly brewed pot on the kitchen table. Qui-Gon, however, was unimpressed by this – he had lived five years with the boy now and knew his deflective ways.

So he let his Padawan sit down in front of him, and poured him a cup, as every considerate Master would. And then, once Obi-Wan's hands were busy circling the cup to warm themselves up, Qui-Gon's sneaked up to his nape, resting on his forehead.

"Master…"

Obi-Wan's annoyed sigh made him smile, but Qui-Gon did not lose his focus, testing his brow carefully, because he did look pale.

"You feel warm, Obi-Wan…

- Perhaps because I just stepped out of the shower, Master?"

Grey eyes met his defiantly – but Obi-Wan did not raise his voice. It was not the boy's way, and Qui-Gon secretly loved him for that, because it allowed him to loom over him all the more, especially when his Padawan was too stubborn for his own good.

"And perhaps because you are still recovering from that nasty marsh fever. You heard the healers, on Mandalore. Relapses happen. Sometimes even months afterwards.

- Master, they treated me. I'm fine, I… I just want tea."

I just want tea.

The boy's admission was quiet, and sad. It was so rare for Obi-Wan to voice his needs and wants that Qui-Gon instantly dropped his hand along with the matter, and simply sat down in front of him.

"Fine, Padawan mine.

- Thank you, Master. I'm sorry to have snapped."

Qui-Gon just raised an eyebrow – because snapping was something else. But he did not reply, and simply sent a soothing nudge through their bond, watching Obi-Wan's shoulders slump slightly as he finally relaxed.

"What are your plans, for the next days, Padawan?", he asked, once they were sharing their second cup. "Besides getting your hair cut…"

Obi-Wan winced, grey eyes meeting his once more.

"I… I think I'll try to catch up. On lessons, and on what happened this past year, in the Senate."

Force, does that sound appealing.

This time, the smile on Obi-Wan's face was genuine.

"You know, Master, sometimes I just don't understand you.

- Oh little one, the feeling is mutual, believe me.

- I mean… We have to know what is going on, have we not? To keep informed, so that we know what we are talking about…

- Certainly, little one. But, as experience will teach you one day – you can either avidly read every available source, or you can talk to a few well-informed people and get the main facts from them.

- But that's biased, Master.

- Perhaps it is, Obi-Wan, but it's definitely more interesting and less time-consuming."

His Padawan just shook his head, braid brushing his thin, pale cheek. And Qui-Gon was once more reminded of how tired he looked.

"I think you should go to bed, Obi-Wan. With a holonovel, if you must. It is late, and that journey was exhausting."

It told a lot of his Padawan's state that he did not even argue. Qui-Gon quietly probed their bond, but Obi-Wan's shields were drawn, and he could only sense deep-bone weariness.

"Master, you need to shower as well. And don't… don't bother about the report, I wrote a draft on the journey back, I'll fill it in tomorrow.

- Sometimes, Padawan mine, you are downright scary", Qui-Gon said, watching a smile blossom on Obi-Wan's face once more. "Off you go, now, Obi-Wan. Get some rest."

His Padawan rose and made his way to the door. Once there, however, he turned back towards Qui-Gon, brow slightly furrowed.

"Master, are you really going to keep that plant?

- Obi-Wan, how many times do I have to tell you her name is Valentine?"

His Padawan's eyes turned stormy, reminding Qui-Gon of just how young he still was – despite his clever mind and his manners.

"Master, she almost bit my hand off. She's from Draboon. She might be full of venomites.

- Yes, Padawan mine. And her leaves also helped to alleviate your fever a great deal. What's more, she's a wonderful way to gauge the Living Force, and I think she took quite a liking to me.

- Everyone takes a liking to you, Master", Obi-Wan replied, one hand braced on the doorframe.

And Qui-Gon was truly surprised to sense that there was not an inch of sarcasm in his Padawan's words. Just truth, and love, and respect.

And a hint of his old playfulness, finally, as Obi-Wan added:

"For the record – I think you should call her Balentine. What with the teeth she displayed.

- Mhm. And I think you should go to bed, Padawan mine. Getting crossed-eyed and swaying. Very undignified."

Obi-Wan just huffed and left the kitchen for his room. But Qui-Gon still heard his soft voice through their bond as he left.

Goodnight, Master. And thank you.

Silence soon fell on their quarters – and Qui-Gon sighed quietly, closing his eyes and meeting the Force, feeling his whole body relax.

They were finally back.

A/N: So dear ones, for now we are still in the Temple, and we will stay there in the next chapter, that will feature our dear Green friends (Luminara, Kit and Quinlan) and a discussion about love (haha, can't wait to write Nara and Quin...), and also Jocasta Nu because honestly, it's about time we get to the Archives again.
Since I'm *finally* on holidays, I might update faster than usual, but if not, stay tuned for the next chapter on Friday!
Oh, and the text at the beginning is an adaptation of "Boots of Spanish Leather" by Bob Dylan, but you need to listen to the cover by Mandoline Orange : it's just lovely, especially the girl's voice and the violin... I keep listening to it and in the end I just decided to adapt the strophes at the beginning of each chapter, because it's sweet. Just like Obi.
Much love and... thanks! I just love writing fics for you 3. Till soon, Meysun.