Qui-Gon glanced aloofly at his apprentice. "Do you not like Citadel-class cruisers?"

"It's a luxury ship," Obi-Wan hissed as we walked together around great hulking ships scattered on the tarmac. "When the Council finds out how much it cost to buy passage for the three of us..."

"It was Master Yarael's direct instruction that I should book passage on a ship of my choosing, was it not, Obi-Wan?" his Master curtly reminded.

"Yes, but...a luxury cruiser?"

Qui-Gon merely shifted the bag strap on his shoulder as he kept walking. "I was concerned for the safety of my charges. This cruiser will not be attacked by pirates, its captain will not have enemies we could not anticipate hunting him down, and it will not need to travel through Trade Federation-controlled space. And it will arrive on Coruscant on time," he added with a little smirk.

The cruiser was one of several very large passenger transports docked in the hangar on an upper tier of Lahopa station, many of which had only just arrived, I could tell by the numbers of passengers milling about the tarmac looking for information consoles. I had been left to sleep while Obi-Wan dressed and went out looking for food, followed by his Master looking for information on transports leaving within hours. Both had been secured by the time either Jedi decided to roust me out of my bunk, but only now, as we headed through the hangar toward the giant cruiser, did we know which ship Qui-Gon had managed to buy tickets for. I felt odd passing through masses of simple-looking folk, among whom the Jedi really did blend in, and heading instead for the luxury ship at the far side. The feeling intensified at Obi-Wan's protests. "The Council will not let you hear the end of it when they get the expense report," he griped at his Master.

"Padawan," Qui-Gon said sharply, and I noted his failure to use his apprentice's proper name, "am I the sort of man who takes these ships on a regular basis and expects this level of comfort?"

Obi-Wan's lips pursed with either annoyance or amusement - or maybe a little of both. "No, Master. Quite the opposite."

"Then I expect no further objections to taking this cruiser back to Coruscant." He glanced down at Obi-Wan, and I saw him smirk brightly. "It helps that all the bulk transports were booked solid."

"I suppose so, Master," his Padawan agreed, and this time I knew the look was amusement.

I stayed out of it, content to walk at an easy pace due to the persistent twinge in my calf that made me limp, using my fighting stick for support. Obi-Wan had my painting wrapped in a corner of his robe for protection, and Qui-Gon carried the baggage. We must have certainly looked no better than refugees or outland settlers as we emerged from the crowds and came up to the edge of the landing circle in which the Citadel-class ship was parked. It was certainly a large and handsome ship, befitting the title given it, with broad outboard wings like a plane and fins on the top and underside of the hull. The charcoal finish with white accents made it look even sleeker, with its long, needle nose and small, high-set windows. A ramp at the near side rested on the tarmac, attended by a lone crewman in gray fatigues that matched the transport's hull color. He looked up from the datascreen in his hands as we approached, and I noticed the twitch of an eyebrow and curve of his lips that formed a disapproving frown. "Is there something I can help you with?" he asked curtly when Master Qui-Gon halted in front of him. "Perhaps direct you somewhere?"

"I am certain we are in the right place," Qui-Gon coolly replied, producing a card-sized metal chip from what looked like inside his sleeve. "This is the Oberon, is it not?"

"Yes..." the crewman snidely answered, taking the offered chip and running it through a slot on the side of his datascreen. He paused a moment to read whatever information the chip produced, and I let a smug grin cross my face when I saw his eyes widen over the top of the screen, and his head jerk toward us in surprise. "Yes, of course, Master Jedi," he hurriedly gasped. "I'm so sorry. Your passage aboard the Oberon is secured, please...let me show you to your quarters." He put one foot on the ramp, looking behind him to make sure we weren't glaring in offense at him. "You'll have to forgive me," he added just before we started to follow him up the docking ramp, "I've never seen a real Jedi before. I'm sure everything will be to your satisfaction. My name is Weis, I'm the co-pilot of the Oberon. Captain Brabham will be flying us to Coruscant, and DV-47 is our domestic droid in charge of seeing to your needs. Is there anything I can do for you right now?"

Weis's ingratiating prattle led us all the way up the ramp into the cool, shiny interior of the ship. "No, thank you," Qui-Gon solemnly said with a tiny bob of his head. "We are merely looking to rest on our way back to Coruscant. If we have need of anything, we will let you know."

The co-pilot nodded hastily, and continued to lead us on a brief tour of the ship. The forward area just below the cockpit contained a lounge where all the passengers could gather, the long-range communications console, and the galley for meals. Further back, the softly-lit corridors led to individual rooms booked by passengers. Weis consulted his datascreen once more, and halted at the appropriate door. "The security code is re-set," he informed us as he tapped the pad by the door, "so you can code it to anything you want. The other passengers are mostly in the port-side suites, so you shouldn't be disturbed."

"Thank you," the Master acknowledged, giving another nod that sufficiently dismissed the anxious co-pilot, who apologized once more before disappearing. Stepping aside to let us enter, Qui-Gon remained in the hall for a moment to program a security code.

I limped a few steps into the room and had to halt when my jaw hit the floor. This wasn't a cabin, it was a suite! About the same size as the average luxury hotel room, it even had a real bath - a sign of decadence indeed! Four fair-sized beds shared the space, two on either side, with an elaborate vanity near the door and a port set high in the far wall that looked out on space during travel if we so desired. While Obi-Wan poked around familiarizing himself with the space, I sprawled on one of the beds and sighed in unabashed delight. A real bed. Not a cot, not a sleep couch, and definitely not the hard, rocky ground. "Holy crap! This is too nice," I complimented Qui-Gon when he finally walked in and dropped the baggage off his shoulder.

"These days, it seems that only the affluent can afford safe travel," he said simply, tilting his head in a slight shrug. "This cruiser may be soft and flashy on the inside, but outside, it is heavily armed - meant for diplomats and other dignitaries who need to cross the galaxy without fear of attack."

Obi-Wan stifled the look of disapproval he wanted to give - his protests were already well documented. "I think I shall have a look at the other passengers," he decided, breezing toward the door. "I wonder what sort of clientele we will be sharing this journey with."

Once he was gone, I grinned up at the Master from my cushy position flat on my back. "Okay, so just how much did it cost you to book this ship for the three of us?"

His eyes gleamed with mischief. "Actually, nothing."

"Huh?" I didn't feel like sitting up in shock, so I just gave him a boggled look.

"This ship is part of a fleet that has an arrangement with the Jedi Order to transport Jedi in need for no cost," he explained casually, taking a few meandering steps through the suite. "It's merely an emergency measure, if no other transport is available and the ship is already going in the direction we need to go - we cannot hijack them for our use, we must conform to the flight plan."

"Nice," I enthused. "How did you get that deal?"

"It's a means of paying back a debt the owner of this fleet considers himself to owe to the Jedi." Qui-Gon lowered himself to a seat on a bed across from me and failed to control the sigh of relief that slipped out of him. "I would have honestly spared no expense to ensure our safety and fast return to Coruscant, but seeing that the Oberon was docking and had passenger space, I decided to take advantage of it."

I bounced my feet idly on the bed and snickered to myself. "Does Obi-Wan know about this deal with the fleet?"

"Of course he does. I am curious to see how long it takes him to realize that the Oberon is part of the fleet in question."

"Ahh...testing the Padawan," I joked with another brash grin.

Some of the amusement left the Master's face. "Obi-Wan has a tendency, in matters both of duty and personal, to jump to conclusions far too quickly," he said. "Which is why he often argues with me, not seeing a situation from the same perspective I do."

"I think it's going to be a while before Obi-Wan's cured of that particular flaw," I mused. I can think of a few instances right now...

Qui-Gon clasped his hands in his lap. "Nevertheless, as his Master I must continue to teach it to him until it does finally sink in."

The door whirred out of Obi-Wan's way, then, so we immediately dropped discussion of the booking arrangements. "It seems the other passengers heading for Coruscant are an unpleasant sort," he reported, his voice placid. "There are two members of the Banking Clan aboard, and some dignitary from a remote system and his entire entourage." Mischief slowly lit his face. "It's fortunate their cabins are all on the opposite side of the ship."

"That good?" Qui-Gon smirked.

"Oh, the Bankers are likely to be quiet and keep to themselves, Master," Obi-Wan noted. "But it wouldn't surprise me if they requested to be moved to our side of the ship before we even take off. This chieftain, or whatever he calls himself, has two bodyguards, an advisor, and three..." He cleared his throat. "...er, concubines."

I howled with laughter. Qui-Gon shook his head. "And with us, the passenger capacity is nearly full. Fortunately, it isn't all that far to Coruscant from here." He looked up to Obi-Wan as the apprentice wandered further into the room. "You didn't catch the system this dignitary hailed from?"

"I couldn't get close enough to ask, Master," the Padawan replied, pausing and looking between the two occupied beds as if unsure which one to choose for himself. "Most of my information came from the Banking Clan members. They alone were apprehensive to see me, they recognized me for what I am."

"Then they must be of high rank - most underlings in the Intergalactic Banking Clan never come into contact with Jedi." His brow furrowed a little in the tell-tale sign of studious thought. "The Fête is coming up soon. I would imagine that this dignitary is among many who are heading to the Core for celebrations."

"The what is coming up?" I asked, shifting my head toward him.

"The New Year's Fête," he answered. "A four-day holiday. The Senate goes into recess, most businesses save service and freight shut down. About the only people who follow the galactic standard calendar who will still be working will be the Jedi."

"Four days?" I pondered. "Dang, you people know how to party in this galaxy. I haven't had a vacation like that since I was in high school."

Qui-Gon laughed at that, somewhat derisively, but he decided not to say anything further on the subject. I shot him a perplexed look. I suppose he was going to ask me if I didn't consider the past four months one big vacation.

"Master," Obi-Wan broke in, "I also met the captain. He said we would be taking off in just a few minutes."

"Ah, good. We've just made it on board in time, then." The Master pushed himself off the bed and shrugged out of his robe. "We might as well make ourselves comfortable. Stacey?" I tilted my head back to see him, as I was still pretty much lying where I had thrown myself upon entering. He stepped closer and gazed down at me. "Do you need to rest, or take another painkiller?"

"No - get that stuff away from me," I growled, pointing up at him from an upside-down position. "I don't like the way it made me feel. All brain-foggy and not-in-control of my faculties." I let my arm drop and bounce on the bed and peered up at Qui-Gon pleadingly. "I'm okay, Master. I got more than enough rest, and I'm feeling a lot better. Just stiff and sore, but it's nothing I can't handle."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I just want to relax..." I offered him a questioning smile. "...maybe spend some time with you two?"

He folded his arms over his chest, his eyes soft. "There is one thing I will need you to do."

I asked the prompting question with just a quirked eyebrow. He went on, "We need to translate the report back into a readable format. I should think that with this delay, we will be called on to deliver it the moment we reach the Temple."

"Aw, Master..." I groaned.

Qui-Gon snorted. "Your job is simple - you merely have to read it back to me. I will transcribe it."

"Oh, all right." At that moment, the ship's engines roared to life. I pried myself to a sitting position slowly, flinching at the pains still needling my back and shoulders all the way. "Can we wait till we're off and running to start that? As long as we have the facilities, I want to wash up and stuff."

Qui-Gon nodded smilingly and wandered over to the port. A shutter had been over it, but he slid it back with a click to watch our departure. Over his shoulder, I could see the gray walls of Lahopa station's docking port. A ship-wide intercom fuzzed to life, then. "Your attention, please. To our new passengers, welcome to the Oberon. My name is Captain Brabham. Commander Weis and I will be seeing you safely and swiftly to Coruscant along this route, in approximately forty hours. Lahopa has cleared us for departure, so without further ado, we'll do that. As always, if you need anything, DV-47 is on duty. Standard time as synchronized with Coruscant meridian is thirteen-and-twenty."

The intercom cut out, and the engines reached a higher pitch. I felt the bump of the ship lifting off its landing struts, and in moments the view outside the port began to rotate slowly. For a second the blackness of space flashed across our view, but then we were treated to the other wall of the docking port. Qui-Gon still stood there, watching, while Obi-Wan finally dropped to a seat on the other bed across the room from me. We waited in calm silence until we could feel the motion of the ship, a crawl at first, but gradually increasing as stars and space became visible over Qui-Gon's shoulder. Satisfied that we were clear of the station, the Master turned with his hands clasped behind his back. "I think it's time I took a walk around the ship, and saw things for myself."

I had no such desire, at least not at the moment, so I decided to avail myself of the bath. Most ships didn't have them, because it meant carrying along a water supply for it separate from that which the galley needed for passengers, and diverting energy to pump, heat, and recycle it. Since the crash, I had only really been able to splash water on my face and change clothing. Even now, I was unsure I wanted to subject my scrapes and bruises to a scalding, so I only filled it with enough water to soak my feet and laid a washcloth on the rim. All male presences were locked safely outside, and I smiled to myself as I looked around the nice, spacious room, savoring my privacy. It was nice to be cared for, to be watched over, but for once I could go about my business without anyone hovering, asking if I was all right or needed help. I didn't need help getting out of my clothes, no, but I had to go slowly, grunting and flinching the whole time as range of movement was limited by little aches and stings.

I sat down on the edge of the bath, dipping my feet into the hot water and sighing at the pleasurable feeling - as if all my injuries were already leeching away through the soles of my feet. This was the first chance I had to investigate my injuries, as I had only quickly swapped clothing prior to this. My eyes wandered along each leg, and along my arms, seeing for the first time the cuts and bruises left by falling debris. My legs weren't so bad - the muscle strains were inside and invisible - but there was a good-sized patch on the back side of my right arm above my elbow, and scrapes all along my forearms. Taking the washcloth, I steeped it and began to methodically run it over every inch of skin, feeling by the pressure of my fingers the bruises no longer visible but still hurting. The higher I went, the more I found - my hip, my backside, a place along my ribs on my left side. My left shoulder protested both movement and pressure, though the hot water soothed it some. I could only really use my right arm, meaning it would take a long time to wash everything, but time was something I could afford to waste. I washed as much as I could reach, unable to get all the way across my back thanks to the strain, and splashed away the dirt and sweat. At last I crouched in the bath and washed my hair under the water spigot, and divested the Oberon of two fluffy towels to dry off before climbing out and standing before the mirror.

The face that gazed back at me looked older, somehow. The cut on my forehead was healing well, and I had been assured it wouldn't leave a scar. Yet, something would remain: the memory of where we had been, and what I had gone through. I searched the eyes in the mirror for any sign of hurt or fear, but they seemed all right, if a bit tired. It's no wonder. Things like this have a way of forcing people to grow up quickly. I picked up my brush and began to run it through my hair, combing back the wet strands and gingerly untangling the knots until the length once again hung straight and smooth. Maybe that's why Obi-Wan looks so much older than twenty-three. He's had to have seen a lot in his youth to force him into maturity. I sighed softly, unsure what I was feeling. Now that we were no longer in danger or stranded, everything was catching up to me. We had come so close to changing history, yet I couldn't be sure that if we had, it would work out for the better. A child, currently seven years old on Tatooine, was the key to stopping the Emperor who hadn't even gotten above senator yet - but was there another path besides that traced in what was currently four movies on Earth? I scowled at myself in the mirror. I wish the Force had waited until 2005 and I'd seen the last two Star Wars movies before picking me up and sending me here. Then I'd have enough to go on. For now, all I could do was act with what knowledge I had. That made my scowl turn into a sardonic smile. I think Qui-Gon gave me some advice to that effect, once.

I pulled on a loose shirt and fresh trousers and vacated the bath, finding that in the hour I had been sequestered in there, Qui-Gon had returned and Obi-Wan departed again. The Master was lying on the bed he had earlier been sitting on, his eyes closed and hands folded peacefully on his chest. Not wanting to wake him, I shuffled quietly across the room to my bed and my bag, stuffing the folded bundle of clothes in my arms inside. Remembering that we had some work to do, I pulled out the beaten-up roll of papers and laid it on the bed for now. The poor report had suffered as much as I had - between being tossed about our quarters during the crash and thrown into every corner since, the contents of my bag for the most part had been crumpled and shifted so much that the rolled-up report was permanently creased and crunched into a half-cylinder. Only the hard cover of my journal prevented it from sharing the same fate, although I noticed as I ran my fingers over it, the corners of its pages were showing wear and little bend-lines had been etched into the cover. A deep, murmuring voice startled me, then. "Feeling better, I hope?"

"Master," I gasped in exasperation. "Don't do that, you scared the crap out of me."

I turned to find him not asleep at all, pushing himself to a seat and smiling ambiguously. "It sounds to me like we've badly neglected your studies of the Force. You should have sensed that I was awake."

I smiled modestly. "It's not instinct for me to feel out with the Force, like it is for you. I have to remind myself to do it, and I usually don't do that when I walk into a room where only you or Obi-Wan are." I added a sly look. "I trust you two that much."

Qui-Gon nodded his acceptance of my explanation. "Well? Are you feeling better?"

"Loads," I sighed. "I'm surprised you two could stand to be around me, as dirty as I was."

"I've seen worse," Qui-Gon offered.

I padded toward his bed, rubbing idly at my left arm. "I'm looking forward to getting back and seeing the healers, though. I'm covered in bruises!" He shifted over slightly, leaving me plenty of space to flop down on the bed, which I did. "I didn't realize it was so bad."

The Master gazed solemnly at me. "It's been three and a half days since we crashed. You should be starting to heal."

"Only a little," I quietly said, my somber mood returning.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

I glanced his way, giving him a meek smile. "You do have a little ability to heal, don't you? I remember my first night on Coruscant..."

Qui-Gon held a hand toward me, palm up. "Where does it hurt the most?"

"My shoulder," I honestly replied, "but...it's been hard to sleep the past few days, and I don't know if the twinge on my right side is from the rocks I laid on. When I was in the bath I tried to check myself over, but I obviously can't see my back."

"Let me check. Forgive the intrusion," he added, gesturing for me to turn around. I slid myself over so my back was to him, and instantly forgave him when he lifted up the hem of my shirt and slid his hand beneath it. Almost immediately he touched something that made me recoil sharply and yelp. "Yes, that's what I thought," Qui-Gon said, lifting my shirt further so he could see. "You have a large bruise, right here..." I felt the warmth of his palm press flat against my skin, low on my back. "My whole hand covers it. You wouldn't have felt it unless you tried to lie on your right side, and put pressure on it."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." I tried peeking over my shoulder. "Can you do anything about it?"

"I will try," he gently murmured, letting my shirt drop but keeping his hand beneath it, his palm just glancing against me while the pressure of his touch shifted to his fingertips. I could see that he had closed his eyes, and I turned back around to let him work. I felt the Force's movement around us, resting on me like a blanket but flowing into him, and then his hand became incredibly warm. My eyes drifted shut while I drank in the heat, the tingling energy, of the healing power of the Force - it reminded me suddenly of something I remembered Star posting on the list once, about chi and the reiki healing she could do. Funny, how it seemed forever since reading that, since being in the virtual presence of my friends, and yet it was only a few months. In that time, the theories we used to put forth, the speculation we made over everything from the Force to Obi-Wan's sweet tooth, had been made real to me. Most of them, anyway, I mused as I sat still to let Master Qui-Gon work.

In time the strange feeling abated, and a heavy sigh announced Qui-Gon's completion. His hand slid very gently from my back and smoothed my shirt back into place. "Thank you," I whispered. "It already feels better."

"Give it some time," he said softly. "It won't be fully healed right away. The Force isn't magic, you know." We both sort of chuckled under our breath, and after a moment, Qui-Gon shifted a little closer to me. His hand came to rest gingerly on my left shoulder. "And now, this. I don't know how much I can do for it, it may be beyond my abilities."

"Whatever you can," I modestly assured. "It's all right if you can't. I'll live."

The Master sank into meditation once again, this time going deeper, and though my sleeve covered my shoulder I could feel his hand radiating heat like a flame through it. I sat as still as possible, eyes closed, until the heat faded and I could feel his fingertips gently kneading in small circles over the joint. It hurt, but not as much as it had over the past few days. The sound of the door made me lift my head, and I looked up worriedly as Obi-Wan drifted noiselessly into the cabin. He glanced to see what was happening, and I was relieved and heartened to see a smile brighten his features, with no hint of displeasure or discomfort at interrupting the scene. He shrugged off his robe as he crossed the room, laying it next to his Master's on the extra bed - which was fast becoming a repository for spare clothing. About the same time, I sensed the vibrancy of the Force subside and heard Master Qui-Gon take a deep breath. "There isn't much I can do," he muttered. "Healing broken blood vessels and cuts is not difficult for most Jedi, but the strain to your shoulder is beyond me. You'll have to wait until we return to the Jedi Temple."

"That's okay," I reassured, inching myself around to see him. "Thanks."

His eyes grew crinkled lines at the corners in response, but then his attention shifted to his apprentice. "Where have you been, Padawan?"

"In the galley," Obi-Wan replied with a little shrug. "This ship keeps no meal schedule, it seems we're free to request anything of the domestic droid at any time. I had a bite while I spoke with one of the bodyguards, I wanted to find out more about who they are."

"And did you?" I encouraged with a smirk.

Obi-Wan dropped to a seat on the bed facing us. "Yes, more than enough. His master is the prince of a kingdom on a planet called Jarba. I've never heard of it before - have you, Master?"

Qui-Gon laced his fingers together and rested his hands in his lap. "Jarba? No, I can't say as I have. What did the bodyguard say of it?"

"Just that it's outside the Hapes Cluster. You were right, Master, the prince is bound for the Core to attend celebrations for the New Year's Fête." The light of mischief returned to his eyes and his smug little smile. "The entourage has been on the Oberon since it left their homeworld some days ago. Apparently, they have been disturbing passengers - some of them disembarked on Lahopa rather than continue in their company."

His Master snorted in amusement. "It's a good thing we have work to do in here, then." His eyes shifted to me. "Are you hungry? We could also go down to the galley if you like."

"Um...not really," I confessed. It hadn't been all that long since we had eaten aboard Lahopa station. "If you want to, go ahead. I just want to lie down for a bit."

Qui-Gon nodded his acceptance, but didn't get up to go anywhere. He resumed speaking to Obi-Wan while I crossed to my own bed and stretched out along its length. For a while I lay there undisturbed, my hands clasped on my chest, listening to the Jedi debating their plans and reminding each other of work yet to be done. Hearing just how little time we would be spending in transit and what time it would be when we landed concerned me, as it brought everything into perspective. The report on Daramin was more urgently needed than I thought. "The crash has set us back," Qui-Gon was saying, "we should have gotten this information to them by now. Many decisions may hinge upon what we have to say."

"Yes, Master, especially with the sectorial representative's visit," Obi-Wan agreed. "If he's leaving before the New Year's, he ought to know what's happening on Daramin before he gets there."

"I will inquire about that right away," Qui-Gon mused, his eyes drifting away from Obi-Wan's attentive face while he thought. "The Senate will be in recess over the holiday, but they may want to convene a hearing on this matter before then."

That settled it. "All right, then," I broke in. They both looked toward me. "I can read just fine where I am, so let's get started."

*****

Reading the report out loud a piece at a time to be transcribed by its original composer took a lot longer than I expected, though a break for a meal in the middle made it much easier to bear. Prefacing it with a warning that I wrote much of it in a sort of colloquial shorthand made up of my own phrasing and slang - just in case the code was broken - I settled back into a pile of pillows and propped my arm on my stomach so I could comfortably read. Master Qui-Gon sat next to me on the chair from the vanity, his fingers flashing over the keys of a datapad, every once in a while asking me to pause or slow down or otherwise explain what in the world something I wrote meant. Across the room, Obi-Wan perched on the end of a bed with a datadex - possibly the same as I remembered him using in Skoda - his input less frantic than his Master's and slowing by the minute. He didn't go with Qui-Gon and I to the galley when I decided I was too hungry to continue transcribing, and when we returned we found him lying down with an arm over his eyes. I consciously reached to him with the Force, but I could sense very little; his mind was muted, but not with sleep. "Hey, Obi," I greeted him as I prowled back to my bed and sat down. "You okay?"

The Padawan lifted his arm and squinted a little smile at our entrance. "I'm just resting my eyes for a bit. Are we getting back to work, then?"

"In a while," Qui-Gon demurred.

I was only too happy to delay work, deciding to lie back and relax. Obi-Wan pried himself out of bed and could be heard pottering around the room with his Master; occasionally, muted words from one or the other broke the silence, but no one moved to continue the report. In the end I dozed, and neither Jedi woke me, leaving me be for as long as I needed. When I blinked my eyes open again, the suite was dark and the beds across from me bore sleeping forms. I slouched over to the refresher and came back in more appropriate sleepwear, content to turn my nap into a good night's sleep.

It was late when I figured I could no longer ignore the rustling of movement that indicated my companions were awake - at least, later than Jedi were accustomed to rise even when not on a mission. Master Qui-Gon was back at work on the report, presumably clarifying and fleshing out the part already translated, while Obi-Wan methodically went through the clothing strewn about the fourth bed, folding it and placing it gently into my bag. While I got up and got ready, chatting gaily with the two of them, I noticed by his short answers and long sighs that Obi-Wan's manner hadn't improved much overnight from the last we had traded words. But, typical of the stoic Jedi, he pushed aside my concern and assured both myself and his Master that he was fine. Not too long after, we were back at work transcribing the report, hoping to finish it in an hour or two so that it would be ready to present to the Jedi Council immediately upon landing.

The rest of the trip passed mercifully without event, once the report was finished and my duties were deemed over. Rest and lounging awoke my playful side, which had been dormant since leaving Daramin, but there wasn't much I could do with it. Qui-Gon had more work to do and Obi-Wan was clearly by now not feeling well. He walked with me through the ship so I would be safe among the other passengers, but his mood remained subdued no matter how much I joked and encouraged. I was curious about the ship, and the peculiar entourage that was making such a ruckus on the far side that the Banking Clan members had already asked to have their quarters moved to the empty cabin next to ours. All I saw of them, though, were the two bodyguards on duty standing in the corridor. No one bothered us the rest of the trip, not even the two-person crew of the Oberon, and we managed to dine in the galley undisturbed by choosing our timing carefully. In the waning hours before landing I napped again, for the first time feeling well enough to roll onto my side to get more comfortable, but was wakened by what turned out to be a very early morning arrival on Coruscant. Master Qui-Gon still would not permit me to carry anything but my fighting stick, so I let him, turning my attention once more to his apprentice. "You don't look so good," I noted.

Obi-Wan gave me a snort and a wan smile. He hadn't eaten since the start of our journey, and slept almost as much as I did. "Thank you," he grumbled. "I've always wondered."

"Obi," I scolded him, glaring.

"Am I going to have to take both of you straight to the healers?" Qui-Gon broke in, looking straight at Obi-Wan as he shouldered the baggage.

The Padawan shrugged defeatedly. "It will pass, I'm sure, Master. It must have been something I ate."

I peered up at him. "I think this is the first time I've seen either of you actually sick."

"It does happen," Obi-Wan said, regaining a shade of his smile. "Jedi are not magically immune to common illness."

"Precisely why you're coming with us to the infirmary," his Master determined.

The Oberon had just begun its landing approach, skimming through the scattered traffic toward the sunlit side of Coruscant. I watched out the little port in awe as the golden haze of atmosphere gradually blanketed us, and the sky turned from black to a pale morning blue in steps. Light glittered on the spear-tips of high-reaching buildings like so much quicksilver, making me squint and finally turn away from the dazzling view. The ship's engines changed their tune as we glided lower and finally made for a landing platform, at which point I sat down to ride out the descent and the bump of gear touching tarmac.

The semi-private landing platform high above the ambiguous surface of Coruscant did not attract air taxis or other public transportation very well, as most of the passengers disembarking from Citadel-class cruisers tended to already have their own transportation arranged. It looked like it might be a while before we could get a ride across two time zones to the Jedi Temple, though Qui-Gon immediately launched into an attempt to contact anything in range of his comlink. The captain and co-pilot took us with them to the small terminal servicing the landing platform, offering better communications equipment as well as a place to get in out of the wind and sky. The pilots and staff of the transport fleet used it as a home away from home, a place to relax, catch up on sleep, make calls, and otherwise wait out the time between flights. There were a few chairs around stained tables, some benches along the walls beneath narrow windows, and doors leading to lounges and offices in all directions. I slunk away to a corner of a bench and hid myself away, listening curiously to other fleet captains and engineers welcoming back some of their fellow employees, to the talk of mechanics drifting from another room, and to Qui-Gon's mellifluous voice asking use of the comm in the back office to call in transport. Obi-Wan soon joined me, slumping against the wall with a bit of a huff. "One delay after another," I heard him mutter. "I almost get the feeling we aren't meant to give our report to the High Council."

"It does seem like the universe is conspiring against us," I agreed, turning my head to regard him. "You don't think it's...really against the will of the Force or something?"

An amused light awakened in the Padawan's blue eyes. "No. Just an unfortunate series of setbacks that seemed to all hit us at once."

I smiled gratefully up at him. "How are you feeling? Really?"

"Not well," Obi-Wan finally admitted, "but not as poorly as I did earlier, either. I'm getting a little better now that we're planet-bound again...almost," he added with a little chuckle, tossing his head to indicate the floating terminal station currently housing us.

"You ought to lie down and rest," I suggested. "There's no telling how long it's going to take to get an air taxi or something."

"Where?" he laughed. "This is hardly the place."

I looked around for a moment, and then gave the bench on which we sat a good scrutiny in case it was long enough. Once I slid all the way into the corner and propped my left foot up by the wall, it could be. Turning a bit and gesturing to my lap, I offered, "Here. I can move, or I can be your pillow."

Obi-Wan perked up slightly. "Are you serious?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't."

"Well...all right, then." Giving the rest of the room a quick look in case his Master had come back with good news to share right at that moment, the young apprentice gathered his robe around him and moved to lie down. I scooted back to accommodate him, and received his head and shoulders into my lap like a precious gift into my keeping. He let his head fall against my thigh, and against my arm as it also rested there, closed his eyes, and took a deep, refreshing breath. With his shoulders resting in the cradle formed by my knees, he was as comfortable as could be, and my legs would probably not fall asleep from cut-off circulation. Not that I would have noticed or cared, for I would have put up with anything just to have his head in my lap. I brushed the backs of my fingers down his cheek, and his eyes fluttered open for a moment. He looked up at me, and the slightest of approving smiles touched his lips before he turned his head and let his eyes close again. Emboldened, I continued to smooth my fingers along his baby-soft cheek, reaching to trace the curve of his ear and the line of his jaw. My weakened left hand gently kept his head cradled, resting beneath his neck just at the point where his short hair ended. His hair...it was so soft, like down, I couldn't resist threading my fingers through it as I caressed him, combing it backwards from his brow. Obi-Wan actually fell asleep shortly, and I paused to watch the hand resting on his chest rise and fall with each breath drawn through parted lips. He was so adorable, young and old at the same time, the severity easing from his face the deeper he slipped into sleep. I let my hand roam where it willed, combing through his hair at his temple, touching his soft, supple skin, brushing my fingertips along his forehead. I even touched the little mole on his cheek, as if to assure myself it was real and not the product of imagination. Every now and then I chanced a look around the room to see if Qui-Gon was watching, but he was mercifully busy in the back office. Circumstance left me free to do as I pleased - for a little while, anyway.

Obi-Wan's nap only lasted perhaps half an hour or so, before transport was finally sent for us, and thank goodness the Jedi Temple came through with private accommodations for once. I gently shook the Padawan awake, and we helped each other up and out to the waiting shuttle. Though he knew the Jedi Council and others were waiting anxiously for the overdue report, Master Qui-Gon said nothing about delivering it to them right away. "First we are going to the infirmary," he said determinedly. "I will proceed from there."

"Yes Master," Obi-Wan acquiesced.

The surge of hope and excitement that welled up in my heart when I saw the great spires of the Jedi Temple gleaming in the morning sunshine told of how much I had missed them in the time I was away. A month and a half, by their reckoning. It was very strange, because until I caught my first glimpse of the amazing ziggurat from far across the cityscape, I hadn't even given a thought to Coruscant or the Temple. I must have bonded more deeply to the place than I thought. Or is that anticipation for healing? After the painfully long hours of waiting and doing little over the past days, at last things moved quickly - we zipped to the Temple, docked, and were being ushered up to the infirmary almost before I realized it. Qui-Gon brushed off an attempt to call him up to the High Council chamber as soon as he was on Temple grounds, preferring to escort me and Obi-Wan himself, fluidly drifting among droids and Jedi healers to give orders and explain the situation. Poor Obi-Wan was left at the mercy of the medical droids to diagnose his illness while the healers personally whisked me away to a private location deep in the soothingly-lit infirmary. I got one last glimpse of Qui-Gon's face, glowing with a hopeful sort of half-smile, before he was hidden from my sight by a door.

An elegant humanoid woman dressed in a creamy gown that fell to her feet glided to me and indicated that I should sit down. Her coffee-toned skin bore markings - tattoos maybe - on the backs of her hands and the corners of her eyes. "Did I hear correctly?" she wondered of me. "Your ship crashed?"

"Yeah." I unconsciously rubbed at my left arm, as if remembering it renewed the pain. "We went down on...on a desert planet. I dislocated this shoulder...Master Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan took care of pretty much everything else but I still ache all over."

"Yes, I can imagine," the Jedi said sympathetically. "You are Master Jinn's charge, correct? The one we cannot sense?"

It had been so long since anyone called attention to it. "Yeah, that'd be me," I said, embarrassed.

"Hmm. That shouldn't affect my power. We will try," the healer smiled, folding her hands delicately. "It may take some time, but I will do what I can to ease your hurt."

It felt like hours passed, the whole day even, while wrapped in the embrace of the Force. The Jedi healer was somewhat surprised that I was able to feel it, and even enter a meditative trance of sorts, yet she still had no access to my mind and there was no connection between us. I emerged from therapy to find that only about an hour and a half had gone by, and the infirmary was mostly quiet. My left arm tingled with life, the pain not entirely eradicated but certainly much improved, my mind hazy as if waking from a long sleep. I was to be mindful of any changes to my health in the next twenty-four hours, and come back again late tomorrow for a follow-up, as the healer expected it to take an extra session or two to be sure that my body was healing properly. Meandering in search of the door, I found a particular Padawan instead: Obi-Wan lay asleep on a bed in one of the alcoves, his face pale in the shadows. Seeing no one watching over him, not even a droid, I edged inside the alcove and around to his head, gazing worriedly at him. This close, with the light from beyond the thin walls falling on him, he didn't look so bad, though he wore one of those tense, furrowed scowls even in rest. My fingers held the memory of the feel of his hair slipping between them earlier that morning, and reached eagerly to regain the exquisite pleasure. I combed his hair backward from his brow for a few moments until my touch woke him. He blinked for a moment, then shifted his eyes upward, and what he saw chased the scowl from his face. "You're here," he breathed.

"Yeah," I whispered, grinning. "I'm all done, for now." His eyes wandered away from me for a moment, hunting perhaps for light or a familiar marker. I kept threading my fingers through his hair. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, actually," Obi-Wan said with the confidence of sincerity. "What time is it?"

"It's only been about a couple hours since we got here."

With a small grunt, Obi-Wan pushed himself to a sitting position and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Master Qui-Gon must have gone before the Council, then. Otherwise, he'd be here." He sat there for a bit, orienting himself, while I paced slowly back around the bed toward the entrance of the alcove. "Perhaps we should simply wait for him."

I leaned against the wall and cradled my left arm in my right, more out of habit than anything else. "Did they figure out what was wrong?" I asked, cocking my head concernedly.

The Padawan shook his head and tried to laugh. "Food poisoning."

That made me laugh. "What?"

His dimpled smile flashed at me out of the half-dark. "Do you recall what I said to you some time ago about green fruit on Rodia?"

My grin became a look of disbelief. "You didn't eat any green fruit, did you?"

"Not deliberately," he pouted. "When I went into the galley onboard the Oberon, one of the Jarbai bodyguards was there, and asked me to share a meal with him while we talked. The healers suspect Rodian greenfruit, or something like it, was part of the dish and I simply didn't know."

I laughed again. "Good job," I teased. "Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi apprentice, master of the Force...felled by something in the food. Will wonders never cease?"

He gave me a disapproving look, but found it hard to maintain. Just then, one of the medical droids wheeled into the alcove, the lights automatically raising as it did. Obi-Wan turned to it, all Jedi once again. "What is my status? Am I cleared to leave?"

"Master Dohemaka is satisfied with your status," the droid answered, its vocal processor much more human-like than the ones I had encountered in other infirmaries recently. "See her to be cleared to leave the infirmary."

Nodding, Obi-Wan slid off the bed and landed lightly on his feet; I thought to myself that he certainly appeared to be better. He paused to retrieve his robe, and then gently guided me out and down the corridor to the entry bay. The kind humanoid healer who had worked her magic on my sore body was the one on duty, and gladly checked us both out of the infirmary. "I will have a message sent to the High Council, to inform your Master that you are free to go," she said, already tapping at a console beside her. "Return to your quarters. And don't forget, tomorrow," she added to me.

"I won't forget," I assured with a shy smile. "Thank you, Master."

Master Dohemaka bowed her head in acceptance.

Our baggage from the trip was not there, so I assumed Qui-Gon had it with him or had sent someone with it to quarters. That meant Obi-Wan merely had me to hold onto as we walked toward a lift that would take us down to the living areas of the Temple. Despite still being a little fuzzy around the edges, I could finally walk without limping and didn't really need to lean on him, but I did anyway. Once closed inside the lift without any prying eyes around to wonder, Obi-Wan hugged me as tightly as he dared, and I braved the lingering twitch of pain in my left shoulder to squeeze him back. "There, now," I heard him murmur. "We are home safe at last. It took longer than expected..."

I sighed long and happily into the folds of his robe. "It was great to be with you and Qui-Gon on Daramin," I mused, "but it's even better to be back."

On to part 57

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