"My wise padawan," I said gently, and smiled at him. What a gift of the Force he was – not perfect, never perfect, and therefore the more precious. A gentle yet mischievous soul, wise for his years, compassionate despite suffering.

My hand reached out to touch his braid, that poor thing spiky with untamed hair bristling along its length. He had washed it as best he could, but it still held hidden pieces of grit and grime within its coils, and I remembered what had been poured so gently into my palm back at the Temple.

It was time to present my padawan with his gift from Yoda and the Council, to restore him to his position in all ways possible. All those beads he had lost symbolized all of Obi-Wan's hard work and dedication, and I wanted him to know deep in his heart that we, the Jedi, his family, continued to respect and honor him. We were welcoming him home.

Shaking just a little, I told Obi-Wan to undo his braid and nerf tail, and to wash every strand of hair on his head. I saw the sudden tension in him; every muscle of his froze.

"What's wrong?" I asked, alarmed. I had sensed nothing in the Force to arouse such a response.

He turned his head and looked at me with an abject plea in his eyes; then the emotion quickly drained away and he looked away from me, trying to still the tremors shaking him.

"What is it?" I asked gently, laying the back of my hand against his cheek in a soft caress, feeling the harsh pitted scales of too dry skin under the surface dampness from his recent shower

"I….I," he tried to say, swallowing hard. "All those years….I refused to let anyone touch it…it was important to me, for some reason I didn't…didn't remember."

I leaned closer to him and looked him in the eyes, eyes now suddenly confused and yet somehow ashamed of his reaction. I understood, now. He had clung to it without knowing why, somehow knowing it connected him to something. To protect it was an instinct now ingrained within him. To undo his braid was to undo him.

"Perfectly natural, padawan," I whispered, taking hold of the braid and holding it in my hand, in front of him. His eyes left my face to stare at it and I made my voice as soothing as I could.

"It was something to hold onto, and you held onto it – I can tell by the pitiful state it's in. But it's me, Obi-Wan, the one who put it there. I'm going to put it back again, okay? It's a symbol only, really, and we used to regularly reweave it. Remember, padawan? You won't lose who you are by my undoing it. You're not even losing it; you're getting it back all clean and neat and tidy once you've washed all that sand and grit out of it. I'm here, to reweave it for you. You aren't losing it, padawan, you're getting it back. A proper braid."

He blinked at me, and nodded once. I carefully unfastened it and held the ends in my hand, looking for any sign of distress. He gave me a shaky smile, and caught my hands within his, callused and hard, and ever so gentle as they enfolded mine. I held my breath, not sure what the gesture meant, until he squeezed them, hard, then released my hands.

"Is it okay, padawan? I need you to wash it clean. A new beginning, to your old life."

I could see he didn't understand my need that he do this, nor was he yet comfortable with the idea, not really. He trusted me however; even after five years he trusted me implicitly. His hands worked with me as we uncoiled the braid. I knew one day soon it would be resting in my hand as I faced Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi for the first time. I could hardly wait for that day.

The strands finally hung, limp and grimy in my hand, and I clucked sadly at it.

"You used to be so tidy," I mock-admonished him, and a small grin split his face. "Now wash it clean, so you can start fresh."

I threatened to pull his towel off and throw him back into the shower if he didn't obey. He merely grinned at me, which was a surprise in itself, and before I could blink, he had done so for himself and jumped back in the shower to get his head scrubbed clean this time.

Well, the past five years had certainly taken his modesty away. While that was good, for a Jedi had no need of modesty or other false emotions, it was one more thing my padawan had lost, and I was a bit sad.

It did give me a chance to study anew the bruises and contusions and scars, and see that it was not limited to just his chest. His shoulders and back, especially, showed the scars of repeated beatings, as if the skin had been shredded and had healed several times. Not even his legs were immune, though they seemed in better shape.

The water droplets blurred and softened the marks as they slid down his body; I'm sure they looked worse than what my eyes saw. I brushed my hand across my face; some of the blurriness was within me – more tears, again.

The cleansing water was washing the marks away, I told myself, but such marks were not so easily removed. Sometimes, the scars stayed forever.

I handed him more towels and as he dried off, I opened the medkit I had with me and laid some bacta patches over the worst of the scars. The bacta would help the scars to disappear. I wished there were bacta patches for the mind.

As he turned to face me, tying the towel back around his waist, I couldn't help saying dryly, "you've grown up a lot these last five years. Even have some hair on your chest."

He blinked at me, and grinned. Actually grinned. With each grin, each smile, my heart was healing and the lost years were dropping away. I handed him his underclothing and pants. I had my back to him, searching for the tool I needed, when his amused voice broke the silence.

"They're soft. Actually soft."

"What's soft?" I asked absently.

"The clothing. The underclothing especially. This didn't come from the Temple cleaners, unless they've improved in the last five years."

"For you, Obi-Wan, only the best. I went to the best, okay closest, shop on Coruscant for them. Several pair actually. I almost got you the rainbow pack; no one would have ever known."

"I would have," he said, and shuddered in mock horror.

"You might actually look rather fetching in, oh, say, Coruscant Coral, or how about Starlight Silver satin?"

"Force forbid it, no, no, and no," he protested shrilly. "I'd rather go without."

"Brat," I said kindly, and thrilled at being able to tease him so. So much had been missing from my life, I knew, things I hadn't even realized.

It wasn't just Obi-Wan – it was the banter, the teasing and the laughter. The exchanged grins. The sharing of a funny story – I remembered the times we had been bent over in laughter over some shared memories and laughed all the harder for knowing none of our colleagues would believe it of us. We kept our mirth and our silliness for ourselves, when we could relax and just be Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan at home.

"Here, before you put the tunic on," I said, turning around with the implement I had brought with me. "I want to get that slave chip out of you and I came prepared. You're leaving this planet a Jedi, my young padawan, and you're never going to look back, you hear?"

He nodded, suddenly somber, as I held the device to his shoulder and depressed the stud. It must have been at least a little painful, but after all that he had been through, he didn't blink. I pulled the chip from the tool and looked at it, and then with a soft curse, I dropped it on the floor and ground it into little pieces under my heel.

Obi-Wan watched; then turned his head to look at me, and his eyes were soft with tears, slowly trickling down his cheeks. They were only the second ones I'd seen from him in years.

"Thank you, Master." He was whispering, and I knew how much all this meant to him. I tousled his hair and grinned at him, as he finished dressing in silence. When he was ready, he turned to me with a quizzical look on his face, for he had caught sight of me in the looking glass with a huge grin on my face.

"Turn around," I said and positioned him in front of the glass. I first pulled his hair back into a neat nerf-tail and secured it, then started on his braid. As I rewove it, starting with the bonding bead, I made him hold his hand out and dropped the rest of the beads into it.

"Hold them for me," I said, grabbing one and weaving it in. "Hey," I closed my hand over his as it started to shake. He had just realized what he was holding. I peered into the glass to see that he was crying, and at the realization, I started crying, too. Force, I hadn't cried this much since – since I had lost Obi-Wan. Perhaps it was only fitting that I cry this much when I had him back.

"Don't do that," I said hoarsely, and his tears only came harder. I turned him around and pulled his face against my shoulder, patting him on the back.

"Okay, then, cry, but I want you to cry until you've cried all your tears out. You're going to leave your tears behind you on this forsaken planet, and you are going to remember to release all your emotions into the Force as a good Jedi does."

"Mmhhm," something muffled was said against my chest. I frowned. What?

Only if you remember to set a good example, Master. He was torn between laughter and tears, and I had to smile through my own. "We'll work on that exercise once we leave here. The tears stop here. They stay here. Okay, Obi-Wan?" His face nodded against me, and we both had to use a towel to dry off afterwards.

"Let's finish getting your braid back into shape. Those Naboo are going to be dazzled by you when I'm done with you."

This time, as I rewove the braid – I had to start again – Obi-Wan's eyes were shining in the looking glass, and I found myself stopping and smiling at his reflection. The past was behind us, we were leaving it behind.

We were walking into our future, together again.