**
My master is crying.
Not openly, of course. On the surface, he appears only to be deep in meditation on the floor of the living quarters we share. His face is serene, and the only movement in him is the gentle in and out of his breathing.
Inside, however, he is ranting. I can hear his shaking sobs, and his regret, and his guilt. It has been a perpetual noise since leaving Naboo three days ago, after the child's funeral.
My master blames himself for Anakin Skywalker's death.
He couldn't be more wrong to do so. In the first stages of our siege of the palace, Anakin had taken shelter in a flightcraft, wherein he was discovered by a droid and summarily executed. My master and I had been far away, chasing the Sith; there was nothing either one of us could have done. We'd both felt the tremble in the Force, the death of the would-be Jedi. It was then that my master's noise started; it was with that noise, that fury and grief, that he faced and defeated the Sith.
And since then that same fury and grief has lessened only slightly.
I listen to the rhythmic sound of his breathing as I lay on my bed, and I wonder how long it will take for my master's spirit to heal. I wonder what it will take, and what price will be demanded when the time comes.
***
When I awaken, I am cold. I reach for the extra blanket at the foot of my bed, but with that movement I realize that my chill is not physical. And then I know.
My master is gone.
The pulsing of my master's Living Force is a constant presence with me, regardless of our physical proximity. Even when my master sleeps, as I have watched him do, I can feel reassurance and wisdom and patience, like a warm cloak wrapped around the soul of me.
And now there is only cold.
I reach out with the Force, searching for him, knowing I will find nothing. I sense instead some consternation, some discord among the other Jedi. The Jedi Council, specifically. I jump up. If anyone will know where my master is to be found, the Council will know. I rise, dress, and head out to find some answers. The Jedi Council messangers meet me halfway with a summons, and I eagerly obey.
For the most part, the Council confirms what I already know.
"Disappeared, your master has, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Cut himself off from the Force, he has."
I nod. So cold.
Master Windu steeples his hands. "This was not completely unexpected. The Council has sensed Master Jinn's turmoil sense the death of the boy. There was some concern of the Dark Side becoming a problem."
Never. I open my mouth to protest, but Master Windu cuts me off.
"Apparently, Master Jinn shared our concerns. He has decided to withdraw from Jedi life, instead of putting himself at the risk of Falling. The Council sees this as a wise decision."
I'm sure the Council senses my shock. "So . . you're not going to *do* anything?"
Master Windu smiles a small, sympathetic smile. Master Yoda leans forward in his seat.
"Unnecessary. A good choice, Qui-Gon has made." He pauses. "Hard to let go of a master, it is. Necessary, it is."
Master Windu picks up. "Yes. Master Jinn has recommended to the Council that you face your trials, to become a Jedi Knight. The Council agrees."
My world is spinning. My master has abandoned me. The Council wants me to take my trials. I'm cold.
Just answer.
"Um, yes, Master Windu. I will . . face the Trials. I am ready."
Bullshit. I want my master.
"You will, then. Tomorrow you will be summoned. You may go now, and prepare."
Prepare? How could I?
I bow deeply to the Council and take my leave.
***
I torture myself with the notion that the meditation mat on which I rest still holds my master's warmth from where he sat there only hours ago.
I do not meditate. I sit, tense and ill-focused, in what I see as a cruel mockery of my master. I would that I could get up, go out, find some sort of oblivion . . but preparation before the Trials demands hours of meditation. As I said, I do not meditate, I cannot. Still, I go through the motions.
I think about my master. I think . . I think I will never see him again. My breath quickens and my stomach clenches in a sob. I push that pointless train of thought out of my mind.
I will be a Jedi Knight.
There was a time when that thought would cause my heart to skip a beat. I would be filled with pride and gratitude and dreams of the future. I would look at my master and laugh for joy, and laugh more when he had no need to question why I was laughing, because he knew and he would always know, and he would be with me always . . .
I stop myself in my thoughts and wonder. Is that then what would cause me to laugh; is that the happiness that would fill me at the mention of my Trials? That my master and I would have completed a journey together when I became a Jedi Knight? That that would be an unshakeable bond between us?
Is that why I can feel no joy in the prospect now? Is that the warmth that's missing?
My eyes fly open. I realize. I cannot face the Trials without my master. Not because I need him to withstand whatever the Council will throw at me; but because that, and any other victory, would be nothing but hollow and obscene without my master to share in it. He is a part of everything I do. I cannot live the Force with only half of me.
I need him.
I will find him.
***
It takes me no time at all to pack.
It takes me quite a while to realize I don't know where I'm going.
I have resolved to find my master, but how can I do that when I don't even know where to start? I plop gracelessly down onto the bed, and I think. Alright. I know my master very well. Perhaps I can discern where he's gone. I'll just . . put myself in his shoes.
Okay. I'm, um, I'm Qui-Gon. I'm a Jedi Master with a dashingly charming padawan. I have a beard. I'm large and serene. I'm beautiful. Okay.
I found a boy, I think he's the Chosen One. I make a token request to the Council to train him, but I intend to, whatever they say. I'm like that. Except, the boy dies. I feel responsible. I'm also like that, self-effacing and self-sacrificing. I try to deal with these overwhelming feelings of guilt, regret, shame . . Force knows why I refuse to talk to my padawan about it. Meditation doesn't work, the negative feelings don't go away. I feel that a Jedi cannot remain in those ways for long without risking succumbing to the Dark Side, which would endanger myself and those I . . those I love. So I leave them. Alone. Cold.
To go where?
Well. If I am worried about the Council coming after me, I go where they won't look for me. Am I worried about the Council coming after me? Not really. I've made a very Jedi decision; they will respect that.
No, I'm not hiding. I just, just want to start a new life. Or, maybe not so much a *new* life, as-
"Oh."
My eyes fly open. I know where my master has gone.
He's gone home.
If I were to ever give up the Force, I would return to being who I was before I entered the life of a Jedi. I would become, again, simply Ben Kenobi. My master has done just that. He's returned to wherever he was what he was before he became a Jedi, before he was Qui-Gon.
Now I only need to find where that is.
When entering the life of a Jedi, one closes the past. We are given new names, new roles, new duties, new clothes; new lives. One is expected neither to discuss one's past, nor to inquire about another's. Hence, I know as little about my master's past as he knows about mine.
That complicates things.
My master comes from a humanoid planet, and that narrows it down, but not enough. Beige, relatively hairless humanoid planet narrows it further, but again, it could still be thousands of planets, within this sector alone. It's not one of any of the planets that we visited together, but that's only- what, twenty? And then, it couldn't be-
//"Eidhlenn."//
What? A voice in my mind. Who-?
//"Eidhlenn, your master's home is."//
"Master Yo-"
//"Go now. Eidhlenn."//
"Eidhlenn? But-"
I recieve the mental equivalent to a kick in the pants, cutting off my doubts. The voice withdraws, and I consider. Eidhlenn is a small, rural planet on the outskirts of this galaxy. It makes sense, I guess. I just never thought-
Well. My master is on Eidhlenn. That is all I need to know.
I pick up the bag stuffed with my meager keepings, and head out the door.
***
"You sure you want me to drop you off here?"
It is the ninth time the pilot has asked that question, which explains why I might answer a bit testily. "Yes. I understand your confusion. Nevertheless, I want to be dropped off. Now, please see to that."
"It's just that, well, you don't look like no trader . ." I've replaced my Jedi robes and gerkin with more relaxed civilian clothes. " . . and they're the only ones what ever want to mess with this dinky planet."
I don't answer, and he looses his passion for conversation as we search for a suitable dock. We find one, at last, and I bid him a goodbye with a sizable portion of my credits.
I exit the flightcraft, into an ocean of green. Actually, it is a valley of breathtaking beauty; but the vibrant color of it overwhelms me. No wonder my master is so in tune with the Living Force; it is very strong here.
I smile at that train of thought, imagining my master growing up here. A little boy, running through the field. With a kite. A red kite.
My brow creases, and I realize that it is not my imagination which places a young boy with a red kite in this valley. He is running towards me. He stops just few short feet away from me, unafraid.
"Hallo."
I nod my head and smile. "Hello."
"I saw yuir craft land. Who are yeh?" The boy speaks with a definite accent, strange and lilting.
"My name is Ob-" I hesitate. That seems wrong, somehow, on this planet, on this journey. Besides, I'm not wearing the threads.
"My name is Ben. I'm here looking for a friend of mine."
"Oh. My name's Duncan. If ye're lookin' fer someone, yeh should talk wi' my aunt. She knows everyone."
I smile at his enthusiasm. "Does she now? Well, I would very much like to meet your aunt. Could you take me to her?"
He says nothing, but takes off running toward the tree line. It takes me a moment to realize that I'm expected to follow.
***
The boy, Duncan, leads me to a small town.
As we pass on the road, people stare curiously, and I return their gaze. These are a foreign people. I see no hovercrafts anywhere, or buildings higher than two storeys, or any sign of advanced technology at all. They are simple.
We come to a small house, made of wood and stone, and Duncan takes us inside.
"'Ey, Aunt Molly! Ye've a guest!"
I hear a noise far towards the back of the house, and a plump woman bustles out into the main room. "'Ey now, Duncan. What's this?"
I step foward and offer my hand. "Hello, ma'am. My name is Ben Kenobi." I find it midly suprising how easy it is to use that name again, after so many years. "I told your nephew I was looking for a friend of mine, and he advised me to come to you."
She grins broadly, I notice the lack of several teeth. "Oh, did he, now? Because Aunt Molly knows everyone an' everything, inn't that right, lad?" The boy nods vigorously and smiles adoringly up at his aunt.
She gestures for me to sit in one of the wooden chairs she has situated around the table. "Well, Ben Kenobi, ye may just ha' fallen prey to a piece a' good advice. Who is it ye're lookin' fer?"
"I'm . . looking for a man, originally from here. He would've just arrived after a long absence. His name is-" what? He wouldn't be using Qui-Gon. "His name is Jinn."
She nods sagely. "Aye, I know the Jinns. Sarah Jinn is a fair friend a' mine. Her brother just returned home, after bein' gone since he was a wee lad."
My heart quickens. "Yes, I believe that is the man I'm looking for. Can you tell me how to find him?"
"Sarah lives at the edge a' the village. Duncan can take ye there."
"Thank you, ma'am, very much." I bow slightly as I rise, and she chuckles.
"Not at all, sir. But, Ben Kenobi, listen," she adds as her face sobers, "Sarah tells me tha' her brother is here . . escapin' ghosts. Ye should always take care when ye're lookin' to raise the dead."
She holds my eyes for a long moment and then I nod. Duncan takes off in that way he has, and I'm forced to follow.
***
I swallow nervously as I stand in front of the wooden door, trying to convince myself to knock on it.
What will I do if my master answers the door? What will I say?
Hello, Master, I just, y'know, got cold . . and I thought I could use . . a warmer climate, and I just happened to end up on your homeworld and thought I'd look you up. Good to see you. Thanks for leaving me. Don't even know what to call you now.
Dammit. It's not like I'm just going to turn around now that I'm here. Just knock on the stupid door.
I take a shaky breath, and knock.
It is a moment before I hear the door creaking of the floorboards, and the door opens. When I see the face that peers out at me, I gasp. It is not my master, but the resemblance is incredible. The same color hair, long and pulled back in a way reminiscent of how my master wore his, similar facial structure . . the eyes are a different color, but they hold that same intelligence, that same keen understanding.
"--Hello. My name is Ben Kenobi. Are you . . Sarah Jinn?"
She nods, once. Her open face displays curiosity bordering on suspicion.
"I see. I am . . looking for a friend of mine. Your brother."
Her face shuts down into an expression of hostility. "Go away, Jedi. Leave my brother alone."
"Jedi? No. I mean, yes, but-"
"Look, Ben Kenobi, my brother has nae interest in seein' you nor any a' yuir ilk. Go, an' leave him in peace."
She moves to shut the door, but I wedge my foot in. I duck my head apologetically.
"I can understand why you feel that way, but, please, let me explain. I- I am a Jedi, or I was, or- well, actually, I don't really know anymore, but-" She shakes her head impatiently, and I'm afraid she's going to slam the door with my foot in it. I match her gaze and say levelly, "Yes, I was your brother's padawan . . his apprentice, on Coruscant, as a Jedi. But I'm not coming to him as a Jedi now. I just want to talk to him. As a friend." I fix my eyes as beseeching as I possibly can, and let my words sink in. "Just talk . . "
She hesitates for a long moment, and then she sighs resignedly. "Very well. Thomas is in the fields, behind the house. Ye'll find him there. But if yeh upset him or if yeh stay for longer than he welcomes you, expect to have t'deal with me." I withdraw my foot and she shuts the door.
Thomas?
I make my way around the house, to the fields which lie beyond. The name my master's sister used rolls over and over in my mind., and I realize that I am not going to find my master Qui-Gon here. I am here to meet someone wholly different. Or someone differently whole. I shiver in the heat, and trod up the hill.
When I reach the top, I look down, into the fields, seeing Thomas Jinn for the first time.
He stands amidst rows of harvest with a tool of some kind. The sun beats down on his bare back. He's cut his hair. Still, I recognize him.
I approach noiselessly, towards the back of him, and he does not notice me. I briefly find it odd that he does not sense my presence, until I remember that that was a trait of Qui-Gon, that correspondence with the Force. Which is a power that Thomas is refusing.
I stand there for a moment, watching him toil. It is a pleasant sight, my master is. I consider standing there forever, but-- my reasons for being here are not wholly selfish. My master needs help, needs healing of the spirit. I don't know that I can do that for him, but I can try. And if I fail . . well, at least I will have all that time to just look at him.
I take one breath, then another. And then I say softly, "Master."
He straightens immediately and tenses. For a long moment, he stands there, breathing deeply. I can see the motion through his back. Then he turns slowly.
"Padawan. You should not have come."
Feeling that familiar warmth again, looking into that gaze is enough to me that even that un-welcome cannot hold back the smile I give him. "I disagree, Master."
After a few beats of my heart, he sighs. "I suppose I knew you would, eventually." He regards me for a long moment, then one side of his mouth tugs upward in a small, sad sort of smile. "It is good to see you, Obi-Wan."
"And you as well, Master."
He shakes his head at that. "No, You mustn't call me that here. I don't-"
"I understand. You don't have to explain . . Thomas," I offer with an unsure smile.
His eyebrows lift in surprise. "Yes, I suppose you do."
We settle in, then, looking at each other. Cataloguing the differences, perhaps, though he has me quite beat in that category. Just basking in the warmth of the other's too long-denied company.
Then, finally, Thomas shakes his head. "Come then. Let me introduce you to my family." And he leads me up the hill, back towards the house.
***
She watches us approach from where she stands in the doorway. When we are close enough to be heard, my mas-
Thomas, rather.
Thomas calls out to his sister. "'Ey, Sarah. We have a house guest."
She nods. "Aye, Tom, I know." She arches a brow at me. "We've met."
"Oh, have yeh?" he laughs mischeviously. Sarah stands back from the door and I follow Thomas in. The brother and sister banter back and forth about the field and harvest and the rains, and as I listen I can't help but marvel at the difference between my master and this man. This man, Thomas, is relaxed and jovial, and he speaks with a provincial accent which my master must have long lost. His gestures are looser. His cropped hair now falls into his face slightly above the jawline.
Sarah leads Thomas and I to the kitchen table, but shakes her head. "Dinner will nae be ready f'r another good hour . . . Tom, why don't ye show Ben ta Toola's room; there's a mat on the floor there he can sleep on."
Thomas shakes his head. "Toola's room is already overcrowded. He can-" He stops, and turns to look at me. "Ben?"
I smile and nod. He cocks his head, studying me; takes in my simple clothes and where my padawan braid is pulled back and pinned away, and something different in my eyes. He says it again, softly.
"Ben."
Then he nods once, approvingly, succinctly, and continues. "Anyway, Toola's room is already choked wi' children. Ben can stay in my room."
Sarah shrugs. "As yeh wish it."
Thomas turns and heads deeper into the house, and I follow.
***
I have little luggage, and it takes me no time to make myself at home in a corner of Thomas' room.
"I apologize for the dust," Thomas says as he rifles through the room, looking for extra blankets. "I myself have just begun to break the room in after a long absence."
A reference to my master, Qui-Gon. Both men notice it; both ignore it. Now is not the time for such things.
"Ah, it's no problem. I'm used to it." I hesitate, and then offer-- "I come from a dusty planet."
Thomas turns to look at me, eyes thoughtful, most likely realizing that he knows less about Ben Kenobi than I know about Thomas Jinn.
"Do you?" he inquires gently.
"Yes." I smile crookedly. "Thopordya. Eastern hemisphere."
Thomas settles on the edge of the bed. "I see. You're a long way from home."
Am I? I don't feel it. I shrug. "Home is where you make it." Thomas nods, "Well, hopefully you will make yourself at home here for as long as you choose to stay." I smile, brightly and genuinely. "Thank you."
We sit there, in silence, for a few moments until Sarah Jinn's loud voice resounds from the kitchen. "Tom! Surely yeh don't expect me tae prepare the food *and* set the table!"
Tom cringes, and yells back, "Not at all, ma'am! I'll be right there!" He turns to me, smiling apologetically. "Duty calls. There are blankets in there," gesturing at the trunk in the corner, "and drawers under there," at the bed, "if you need them. Dinner should be ready in a few minutes."
"Thank you, Tom," I say, smiling. He smiles in return.
"Of course, Ben."