It felt like the old days.

Obi-Wan breathed in the cool night air, the smell of Helia after it rained. Just off the trail, he noticed a cluster of blue-green mushrooms popping up under the brush, given away only by the faint glow of their bioluminescence. Curious, he thought. Such mushrooms only grew here in the spring. The summer months were too dry.

He made his final ascent up the trail to where it ended at the top of a ridge, one of his master's favorite spots to sit and think. Qui-Gon always did appreciate a good view. Obi-Wan was not surprised to see him there, looking out over the river, a picture of Jedi serenity. How Obi-Wan always remembered him.

"It's beautiful here, isn't it?" Qui-Gon remarked when he saw him. "Are you having a nice stay?"

"I'm trying to," Obi-Wan said. "And I thought it was summer."

"Well, you always did prefer it here in the spring. I did as well. It feels a little more alive here." Qui-Gon looked up at the sky and Obi-Wan's gaze followed his former master's. The stars seemed incredibly bright, densely packed together in the black sky.

"The galaxy looks so peaceful from this vantage point, doesn't it" Qui-Gon asked. He pointed up toward the middle of the sky. "There's Malastare."

Obi-Wan had often been impressed with Qui-Gon's ability to orient himself no matter where they were in the Galaxy; sometimes it seemed that he knew every star, at least every inhabited and named system, and whenever they were on Helia Obi-Wan had quizzed him when they had the chance, especially when he'd been much younger. Obi-Wan scanned the sky for something familiar. He'd never quite managed to reach Qui-Gon's level, but he knew a few. Qui-Gon had taught him about the constellations of the ancient peoples of Helia, and within those he could find familiar worlds.

"Isn't that Naboo?" He said, pointing to a bright star in the Eastern sky. That one was easy, because it formed the "eye" of the constellation called the Phoenix.

"Very good," Qui-Gon said. "You should show Anakin."

Obi-Wan lowered his hand, feeling a pang go through him. He knew what Qui-Gon was going to ask him next. The only reason he was probably here now was to ask the question.

"How is his training coming?"

Obi-Wan snorted. "Terribly. I am not sure what you expected me to do with him. He was too old to start training. You didn't listen to me. You never did listen to me."

"He's very advanced for his age," Qui-Gon pointed out. "You've taught him well."

Obi-Wan wondered why Qui-Gon had even bothered to ask him about Anakin's training; his mind seemed to be already made up that everything was fine. When the man got an idea in his head there was no trying to talk him out of it. He'd always been this way. Obi-Wan was silent, not about to try and change things now.

Qui-Gon sighed and looked back up toward the stars. "That one is Sullust."

"I don't care," Obi-Wan said. "I've tried my best, but I can't seem to train any self control into him. Now that you're finally here, tell me what to do about that. How can I train a child who can't seem to get through a week without a tantrum? How can I trust him on a mission?"

Qui-Gon looked at him, apparently waiting for him to continue.

"And don't say 'patience,'" Obi-Wan said.

"You didn't ask me here for my counsel, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, turning his gaze toward the sky again. "Tell me what it is you want."

Obi-Wan had to take a moment to compose himself. "I would like...I would like you to release me from my promise," It had taken all of his strength to say it. "Please."

"I can't," Qui-Gon said. There was a finalness in his voice that wasn't unfamiliar. The last time Obi-Wan had heard it, he'd been arguing about his master about Anakin, practically begging him to let the matter go. But there was no moving Qui-Gon, once his mind was made up.

"Can't or won't?" Obi-Wan snapped.

"I can't," Qui-Gon said more softly, now moving toward Obi-Wan.

"Why not?"

"Because it's too late. Even if I were to release you, you'd never release yourself."

In his heart, Obi-Wan knew it was true. The truth of it sat on him like a weight.

He found himself suddenly pulled into an embrace.

"I can't do this, Master," he said, hugging Qui-Gon a bit tentatively. It had been so long. " I'm sorry, but I don't know how. I will fail."

A statement like that would never have been tolerated by Qui-Gon (or any master for that matter) during his apprenticeship. Obi-Wan had been so conditioned against negative self-talk that he had a hundred different rebukes at the ready for himself when such thoughts popped up, as they still did from time to time. If you look for failure then you will surely find it.

But Qui-Gon didn't say anything like that. He pulled him in tighter, and his voice was gentle. "There is hope, Obi-Wan. Please believe me."

"How? How is there hope?"

"You love him," Qui-Gon said, as if this were a simple and obvious thing.

A knot in him seemed to loosen at those words, and Obi-Wan couldn't hold back his tears. He was embarrassed and a part of him wanted to turn away, wriggle out of Qui-Gon's arms, yet he found he could not.

"Where have you been?" he whispered. "We needed you."

Qui-Gon didn't answer that, but stroked the back of Obi-Wan's head. "Remember the cave? I want you to take Anakin there."

Obi-Wan pulled away finally and looked his master in the face. "He's not ready."

"How do you know?" He brushed Obi-Wan's cheek with his hand. "He may surprise you."

Obi-Wan looked at him skeptically. Somewhere in one of the nearby trees, one of the Helian nightbirds gave a loud shriek.

"Don't be afraid to let him fail. He must learn how to. It may teach him more than success."

"I understand."

Qui-Gon smiled at him gently. "I must go, Obi-Wan. It will be a long time before we speak again. But the Force will be with you."

"You died," Obi-Wan said sadly, as if suddenly realizing.

The nightbird shrieked again, louder. With a start, Obi-Wan opened his eyes and found himself on the floor of his apartments, He had let himself drift off while meditating, a childish mistake and one he wasn't accustomed to making.

Anakin wasn't in the apartment - he could sense that, although he could also feel that the boy was close by. Though he still felt cross with Anakin running off like he had, he was glad his padawan wasn't around to have seen him face down, asleep on the floor. He would have found it either hilarious or concerning. Both, maybe.

Obi-Wan righted himself and took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. He thought something of Qui-Gon's presence still lingered around him. He had felt this before and it always made him uneasy. Though Jedi believed a person lost their conscious will upon death, they held also that nothing was ever truly lost in the Cosmic Force, that echoes of a person's life and being remained alive in some sense and could be felt. But to try and hold onto such echoes, to commune with them, he knew could be perilous for a Jedi. A path to darkness and delusion.

Such a strange dream, and a little disturbing. It was his own neediness and attachment coming through that disturbed him more than anything. The way he had clung to Qui-Gon. The way he'd begged to be released from his duties. Is that really who he was, at his core?

He'd been taught not to think much of dreams, not to hold onto them or to put too much faith in them. The promises of dreams were often false, misleading, another doorway to delusion for a Jedi. Yet, read correctly he knew they could provide some insight as well. He would have to meditate on it more deeply.

There would be no returning to sleep for him tonight.