They make it back to Shmi's house with relatively little incident, apart from Jar Jar getting his ears caught on somebody's washing line and bringing the whole lot down on top of them. While Obi-Wan and Shmi picked up the washing, Qui-Gon hastily placated the old woman who charges over brandishing a stick, telling her most emphatically that she didn't want to bludgeon them senseless, she wanted to go back inside and have a nice cup of tea. It seemed to work, because he escaped with nothing but a few cursory swats around the head for good measure.

'So, how's my son?' Shmi asks fondly as she pours them all coffee. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan share a dark look. Obviously mothers only want to hear good things about their children, but when it's Anakin Skywalker they're talking about...

'He's certainly very... lively,' Obi-Wan says carefully. Qui-Gon snorts.

'That would be one way to describe him. Your son has a penchant for, um, being in the wrong place at the wrong time, shall we say.'

'You don't need to tell me that! Is he progressing with his studies?'

'It's hard to say, considering how seldom he actually turns up for class. He has talent, certainly, but as the Naboo say, you can lead the nerf to water but you can't make it drunk.'

'Master, I believe you mean can't make it drink.'

'Oh, was that another of those translation errors? I wondered why that politician was looking at me funny. Actually, while we're on the subject of drunk, are there any decent bars around here that aren't going to get trashed as soon as we walk in? I'm sick of having my drink blown out of my hand by rogue blaster bolts, that kind of thing really puts a crimp on my day. Shmi? Any advice?'

'Could try the Pink Bantha, over by the aerodrome. It's Happy Hour from eight onwards.'

'Happy several hours, it sounds like. Master, we can't drink! We're supposed to be on a mission!'

Qui-Gon leans forward conspiratorially.

'Obi-Wan, listen carefully, because I'm only going to say this once. What happens on Tatooine, stays on Tatooine, is that clear?'

'But what about the Code – '

'I'm also only going to say this once: bollocks to the Code, we're on holiday.'

Obi-Wan heaves a sigh.

'You had no intention of actually going to Brentaal and sorting out the anarchists, did you? I reckon you deliberately fell asleep and missed the hyper-jump.'

'There may have been an element of that, yes – I mean, good heavens, what am I saying? Of course I intend to go and sort out those hotheads... eventually... but while we're here, we may as well take advantage of a few days' leave, right?'

'I thought we had leave next month to go to that retreat on Dagobah?'

'And that's your idea of fun, is it? A meditation camp in a muddy swamp? Come on, Obi, it's Tatooine! It's dirt cheap, there's enough going on already that no one will look twice at a couple of Jedi out on the piss... and most importantly, last orders don't exist in the Outer Rim.'

'Master, we should not be doing this!'

'Oh, would you relax! No wonder I need a holiday when I've got a worry-wart like you around all the time. Look, if it makes you feel any better, we'll go to Brentaal and kick some anarchist butt once the ship is fixed, alright?'

'I don't know... I've got a bad feeling about this...'

'Obi-Wan, you always say that. Your bad feelings are about as reliable as my sense of direction, so I'm sure you'll excuse me if I don't take any notice.'

'You Jedi are crazy, you know that? I can't believe my little Ani wanted to become one of you people! Coming to a flea-pit like Mos Eisley to let your hair down? Ridiculous.'

Obi-Wan shrugs.

'Don't look at me, it was his idea. By the way, where's Jar Jar got to?'

A crash and a panicked yelp from upstairs answers that one. Obi-Wan sighs and gets up.

'I'll sort him out. Expect breakages.'

'So, what really brought you here?' Shmi asks once Obi-Wan has disappeared upstairs and they can hear him yelling at Jar Jar. Qui-Gon rolls his eyes.

'The wine, women and song, obviously. Cheap thrills and all that. I'm on a mission to get Obi laid, because I honestly can't think of anything else that will make him pull his head out of his behind.'

'Charming. This is what Jedi get up to in their free time, is it?'

'Sadly, no. Most of them would actually get a kick out of going on a retreat in Dagobah. However, because I am not completely mental, you wouldn't catch me dead doing a meditation week in an overgrown sewage farm. Even if Yoda's cooking is amazing... which it isn't.'

She raises an eyebrow at him and he slides his hand up her arm.

'That wasn't the only reason I came here, though,' he says reflectively. 'It's good to see you again.'

She shifts closer to him and lays her head on his shoulder.

'Oh yes? Prove it,' she teases. He shrugs.

'I came back again, didn't I? How much more proof do you need?'

'Ooh, you arrogant git!'

She grabs his head and kisses him soundly. It's several minutes before they break apart, both panting slightly.

'Sheesh, Tatooine women, I don't know... randy as all hell, the lot of you,' he grumbles, then yelps as she tugs on his beard.

Some rather involved minutes later, they hear a very embarrassed cough from behind them, the kind of cough that wants to be heard but is trying to be quiet at the same time. Qui-Gon raises his head reluctantly, groaning as he spies his po-faced Padawan leaning in the doorway, and suddenly realises what a compromising position he's in – with the mother of one of his students, no less. Shmi laughs awkwardly. Damn right she feels awkward, no Jedi should be able to do that and still get caught by his apprentice.

'Master, I do not believe that is appropriate behaviour for a Jedi,' Obi-Wan says sanctimoniously. Qui-Gon shrugs, removing his hands from somewhere in the voluminous folds of Shmi's kaftan.

'Just as well I'm not a very good Jedi, otherwise I'd be in real trouble.'

'Attachments of this nature are forbidden to us! Surely you know that?'

'Of course I know that, so don't you start lecturing me, you pompous little shit! I also know that the Council throws a few red herrings into the Code. It's a kind of test. Anyone who falls for a rule like that is a gullible sap who obviously isn't fit to wield a lightsabre.'

'Really?'

'No. That was a gullible sap test as well, and you just failed it. Nice one. Like I said, what happens on Tatooine – '

'Stays on Tatooine, yes, I know. I still don't like it.'

'Well don't bloody watch then!'

'What I actually came in to say,' Obi-Wan announces after a strained pause, visibly attempting to forget what he's just walked in on, 'is that Jar Jar seems to have broken Threepio. His speech circuits are... severely malfunctioning, to put it lightly.'

Shmi snorts with laughter and the two Jedi shoot her questioning looks.

'Oh yes, I'd been meaning to tell you about that. Threepio's speech circuits have been acting up for quite a while now. I've had to keep him deactivated because it's rather embarrassing.'

'Embarrassing? How do you mean?'

'Well... he isn't very polite these days. And there's this awful poem he keeps reciting when I have guests over: There was a young woman from Venus, whose body was shaped like a – '

'You mean you've got an obscene protocol droid? I have to see this,' Qui-Gon sniggers.

'Can you fix him, Qui-Gon? It's really getting awkward when people come round.'

'Do I look like a droid repairman to you? I might not want to fix him, purely for the comedy value.'

'Master, please, can you act like a proper Jedi for once? Proper Jedi are not amused by things like potty-mouthed droids!' Obi-Wan complains. Qui-Gon sighs.

'Come on, Obi. I have to have something to laugh at in Council meetings besides Yoda's ill-advised attempt to grow a moustache, and an endless supply of dirty limericks will do the job just fine.'

'Well tough luck, because I deactivated him again. Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to sit on an uncomfortable rock and meditate on the nature of the Force like a proper Jedi.'

'You do that. And keep an eye on Jar Jar, please. Unless you're having prophetic visions or something, in which case I admit it's a little difficult to keep your eye on anything.'

'You have prophetic visions?' Shmi asks incredulously. Qui-Gon grins sheepishly.

'I think they're more like alcohol-induced stupors, actually, but I've got to keep up appearances.'

Obi-Wan stalks off with his nose in the air. Shmi sighs.

'I see what you mean about your, um, other mission. That boy needs a good shag like Jabba the Hutt needs liposuction. Still, I can't believe you didn't tell him about us.'

'To be honest, I thought he'd already figured it out and was actually being extremely tactful, or maybe very embarrassed. So much for Jedi second sight. Anyway, where were we...?'