Sneezefic by Lady Cornflower > Shortly After Naboo

My Obi-Wan,
I am sorry not to meet you at your arrival, but Anakin’s examinations are still going on and my presence is required. I will return in time for third meal. Please make my rooms what they are -- your own.
Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan Kenobi put down the note with a small sigh. In the months since his knighthood, he had grown less resentful of his lover’s interest in the talented young boy from Tatooine, but moments like this still tried his control. "It’s nothing he could change," Obi-Wan told himself firmly. "It’s just bad timing."

He was curious about how Anakin had progressed while he’d been gone, but he was much more interested to see how Qui-Gon fared. When Obi-Wan left, Qui-Gon had been out of the healers' hall for less than ten days, and was just beginning physical therapy to recover from their battle with the Sith on Naboo. Now, nearly a month later, Obi-Wan hoped his master had regained the strength and mobility for sparring... and, of course, other activities.

A noise from the entrance hall broke through Obi-Wan’s reverie.

"HECHUnhh!"

"Master?" Obi-Wan called tentatively, rising and moving towards the sound.

"CHEH! haTCHOO! ohhh..."

"Qui-Gon!"

The master Jedi was bent over in the doorway, one hand covering the lower half of his face. Though he had gained some much-needed weight, the exhausted droop of his shoulders clearly indicated that now, at least, he was less than well. "Forgive me," he murmured thickly, straightening up to meet Obi-Wan’s gaze. "Have you had to wait l-"

"You," said Obi-Wan, "look wretched."

"I was wretched whed you left, ed sniff miserable while you were away. Now," Qui-Gon smiled, "I ab too happy to be wretched."

Kenobi felt his face blossom with an answering grin. "It’s very good to be home." He affectionately cupped Qui-Gon’s face with one hand, then frowned and brushed his fingers against the high forehead. "Hmm." He stood on tiptoe to test the warmth of Jinn’s skin with his lips.

"Love. Doh, doad." Qui-Gon shook his head, stepping back. "I..."

Obi-Wan grasped his shoulders and stilled him with a soft kiss on the cheek. "Belong in bed?" he murmured against the angle of Qui-Gon’s jaw. "Need someone to look after you?" Another idea occurred to the young knight, and his voice grew harsh. "Shouldn’t have even been within sight of that swarming mass of infection we call the initiates' hall?"

Qui-Gon turned away, mopping first his watering eyes, then his reddened nose with a soggy rag of a handkerchief. "It wased Ada- kuff." A sharp cough interrupted his protest.

"Not Anakin’s fault? Of course he didn‘t infect you on purpose, but the fact is that it‘s midwinter... oh, Sith hells, Qui-Gon, we can argue about that later. Now you need a hot bath, some soup, and a few days in bed. Here, give me your cloak."

"But Obi hih...'scusesihih... heh... h’KESSHUN! Yoda, ahh, KESHoo!" Grimacing, Jinn rubbed his wounded side.

"Whatever Yoda wants, it can wait." With the ease of long practice, Obi-Wan unfastened Qui-Gon’s boots. "I’ll tell him, and if he wants evidence, the healers will surely provide it.. Could you... yes, now the other foot... good. Yoda will manage, Master."

"Doh," Qui-Gon croaked, as he let Obi-Wan lead him to the bathing room. "I bead, it wased Addakid. It was Yoda."

"What was Yoda?"

"This code. I got it frob hib."

For a moment, Obi-Wan was too angry to either move or speak. "But you... he... you..." he sputtered. "He knows your lung’s still healing. You... Healer Var told you not to go anywhere near people with respiratory infections!"

"He said... excuse be wud bobed, Obi-Wad..." Qui-Gon blew his nose with the sodden handkerchief, though the action did not afford him any apparent relief. "He said he dided have ad idfecshud. Sniff ‘A code I hab dot, allergies it SNURP! is.’ kuff. koff. KOFF!" The last wet sniffle set off a chain of deep, husky coughs that made Obi-Wan uneasy. It was bad enough that Qui-Gon had contracted a wretched head cold mere weeks after his release from the healers’ hall; if the sickness settled in his chest, it would be catastrophic.

"How long have you been ill?" Obi-Wan asked. He used the Force to nudge the thermostat up a few degrees while he began to run a bath.

"I’b dot koff sure. Tibe goes so slowly whedever you’re away. Baybe three days?"

"Oh, master."

"I’b snff dot your baster dow. Sniff! koff-kuff."

"Here." Obi-Wan plucked a fresh box of tissues from the towel cupboard. "Don’t snort like that." He draped a fresh bath sheet and Qui-Gon’s bed robe over the radiator while the senior Jedi filled several tissues in quick succession.

"I’m sorry." Jinn sounded slightly less congested. "It’s disgusting to hear."

Obi-Wan turned around from the tub to look at him. "Force, I don’t care about the sound. But it doesn’t help, it just makes you cough." He pressed his lips together, studying the miserable man slumped against the doorjamb.

Qui-Gon’s ordinarily brilliant blue eyes looked rheumy, bloodshot, and baggy. The tissues had left his nose pink as undercooked meat; the rest of his strong-boned face had the pallor of illness. His shoulders were hunched, his arms crossed tightly as if to protect himself against an icy wind -- or to shield his damaged ribs from painful movement. As Obi-Wan watched, his breath began to hitch, and with a little groan he pressed his face to his shoulder. "uhh, ah, ha-CHH!" His head jerked back slightly with each sharp inhalation, then forward with each explosion. "EhKEshunh! HACHOO!" One of Qui-Gon’s palms pressed against the spot where the mysterious red saber had pierced him; his other hand fumbled for his handkerchief. "Uh, gaSHA! heh-KESH! heh-KESH!" The strength of the fit bent him nearly double.

In half a moment Obi-Wan had a supporting arm around his waist. "Shh, be easy, my love," he said softly to the back of Qui-Gon’s head.

"heh-KESH! snff heh t’CHH!" Jinn froze in the contorted pose the sneezes left him in, breathing rapidly.

Obi-Wan rubbed his back. "My poor Qui-Gon. That sounded painful."

"Mm." Keeping his back to Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon sidled over to the tissue box. "Eguse be."

"Of course." Reluctantly, Obi-Wan focused his attention on the running water in order to let his master clear his nose with some dignity. When the damp honking, coughing, and sniffling had stopped , Kenobi turned around and found Qui-Gon trying to clean the evidence of the sneezing fit from his tunic. "The shirt will wash, Master," Obi-Wan pointed out mildly, reaching for Jinn’s belt.

"I cad..."

"Shh, I’ve got it." He helped Qui-Gon undress, taking the opportunity to examine the recent scars and to listen to his breathing. Even after much nose-blowing, Jinn was breathing through his mouth, but as far as Obi-Wan could tell the congestion had not invaded the older man’s lungs. "Now, into the bath with you."

Qui-Gon eased his aching body into the tub. Force, but the hot water felt good! Goosebumps came up on his still-dry arms at the contrast between the steaming bath and the cool air. He shivered, and slid down until the water reached his armpits -- as far as he could go without needing to bend his long legs so much that his knees stuck up. A gentle touch on the top of his head made him look up at Obi-Wan.

"Thag you," Qui-Gon said, wishing he could make the words come more clearly. Obi-Wan shouldn't have to take care of him, not immediately after his first solo mission. Not after everything he'd done for his bondmate and master in the aftermath of Naboo.

"I turned a knob, beloved. No thanks needed." Obi-Wan smiled, but his eyes were serious. "Three days, you say?"

Three... oh, how long he'd been sick. Qui-Gon frowned, trying to get events in order. "By throat was a little sore od Wedsday. Thursday ad Friday there was just a little sdeezig, but yesterday I woke up with by head full of cebed."

Obi-Wan's lips touched his temple. "Seabed?" the young man asked, all too casually. Qui-Gon could feel his old apprentice using the Force to test him for delirium.

Qui-Gon twitched away from the touch. "I doad have a fever, Obi-Wad. Just a rather stuffy head."

"What about the seabed?"

"Dot seabed, ce-bed-t! Codcrete! That hard stuff roads are bade out of?"

"Cement?"

Ashamed of his stridency, Qui-Gon looked down at the water as he softly answered, "Yes."

"I'm sorry." Again, the hand on Qui-Gon's hair. "I think you do have a fever, my love."

"Perhaps." Qui-Gon's nose was starting to run. Just a bit, a tiny trickle far inside, but it captured his entire attention. Of course, the warm vapor of the bath was breaking up his congestion. He hoped very much that Obi-Wan would go before the steam took full effect. He did not want to subject Kenobi to any more messy scenes.

Obi-Wan showed no inclination to go. Rather, he continued stroking Qui-Gon's graying mane. "Does your head ache?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon confessed. "But odly a bit."

"Does anything else hurt? Your ears? Is your throat still sore?"

"Doh. Yes, a little scratchy." The trickle was making progress, tickling the sensitive, inflammed passages of his nose as it crept towards his moustache. "But tell be about your bission, beloved," Qui-Gon added quickly. Perhaps, if he distracted Obi-Wan, he would be able to discreetly wipe up any drips before the young man noticed.

"When did you last see the healers?"

"Thursday."

"What do they say?"

Qui-Gon made himself very busy dipping a bathing cloth in the water.

"Or did you somehow convince them you're not ill?"

"I felt fide, odly a little sdeezy. They checked be over and didn't say adythig."

Obi-Wan frowned, then turned to look at the wall chrono. Qui-Gon took the opportunity to scrunch up his face, trying to rub the tickle into submission. It didn't work. He barely managed to assume a neutral expression before Obi-Wan looked back. "And since then you've been watching Anakin's tests," Obi-Wan remarked.

"Yes."

"With that little green germ-wad." His tone was grim, but his mouth twitched at the corners.

Qui-Gon gave a congested chuckle. "Yes." Good, Qui-Gon thought, Obi-Wan had decided to see the situation as funny, rather than a disgusting obligation. Now, if he could only keep his nose under control until he was in private. That task threatened to become a serious challenge -- he could feel the steam at work, thinning the congestion and setting it in motion. "But your trip, beloved, won't you say subthig about that?"

Obi-Wan smiled, kneeling down and resting his arms on the tub's edge so his head was only a little higher than Qui-Gon's. "It was long," he said, "And tedious," setting his chin on his crossed wrists, "And I missed you." His grin was impish.

"That's all?"

"Oh, no." The green eyes twinkled. "I missed you terribly."

Qui-Gon's eyes stung suddenly with the depth and intensity of the affection singing through the Force between them. "Ad I you," he whispered, drawing the back of one finger across Obi-Wan's cheek. Then, with as much sterness as his sore throat could muster: "But that's dot what I bed."

"I know." Kenobi kissed his fingertip. "Sit up, let me wash your back. As you know, I was helping draft a statement of unifed governance for the Geltar, Masu, and Shigre groups on Novis Eight. The Masu and Geltar have been allies for generations, but the Shigre have until recently been ruled by a sepratist Parliament…"

Qui-Gon arched his back to Obi-Wan's scrubbing and listened to the story. For many minutes he almost forgot his stuffed and aching head in following the diplomatic complexities of Obi-Wan's mission. All too soon, however, he had to shift his attention. His nose was on the point of overflowing. Qui-Gon picked up the soap and began to energetically wash himself, splashing a great deal to disguise the sound of a mighty snort. He successfully cleared his nose, but the mucus dripped down his raw throat, setting him coughing even as the tickle in his nose expanded rapidly from an irritation to an irresistable force. "ehKAhaKAH! ahKAH-huhkuh!" Coughing and sneezing at once, he drew his knees up to his chest and huddled against the far wall of the tub, as if by making himself smaller he could escape the pain the spasms brought to his chest, and perhaps keep Obi-Wan from seeing him in such a pathetic state. "Kuh-kuh-kuhkuh... eheh... KuhehHASHekuh-kuh-kuh..." The porcelain felt icy against his skin; it was hard to get his breath, hard to keep both hands over his mouth and nose when his side hurt so badly. Another massive sneeze waited, just out of reach. His whole body tensed with dread as it built, torturously slowly, hampered by the ceaseless coughing. "Koff-koff ahh..Koff! KuhKoff kuh-kuh-kuhehh... eh..ehkeh-kuff-kuh...eh... heh... HAkoffSHOOuff! Koffkuh! Koffkuh, kuh, kuhkuh!" His eyes watered, his nose streamed. "KEHshoo! HESHUN!"

Gentle hands gathered his hair, drawing it back from his face. "Qui-Gon…!"

He drew in air in tiny gasps. "ehKASHAA! huhkeshunh! hih-CHOO! HATCHOO! ehKeshoo!" Trembling, he let his forehead rest on the cold tile wall, his hands still pressed to his face. "Ohhhh," he groaned.

Kenobi clicked his tongue anxiously. "Qui-Gon," he said again, his voice serious.

"I'b all ride," Qui-Gon managed.

Obi-Wan's greenish eyes were sharp. "No, you're not all right." With a flick of his fingers he called the tissue box to his side and picked up a thick pile.

"I cad..."

"Shush. Put your hands down. Put them down. Good." He carefully mopped Qui-Gon's upper lip and moustache, then his hands. Then he held a fresh bunch of tissues to Jinn's nose. "Blow."

//No,// Qui-Gon sent to him, reaching up to do the job himself.

Obi-Wan deflected the gesture. "You're soaking wet, master. Let me." With his thumb he pushed Qui-Gon's right nostril closed and waited.

"Come on, blow," Obi-Wan urged again. Two weary eyes looked up into his, then closed as the master drew a deep breath to comply. He rubbed little circles on Qui-Gon's back, but when the effort of clearing his nose set Jinn coughing again, Obi-Wan wrapped one arm all the way around his chest and held him tight. "Qui-Gon," he murmured. "My poor love, shh, shh."

Qui-Gon sagged gratefully into his embrace for a few moments, then began to struggle. "Doad," he said thickly from behind the tissues. "Doh, you'll ged dis frob be…"

"Shh, that doesn't matter." He would have welcomed the infection, if it meant drawing off some of Qui-Gon's suffering. Unfortunately, it was not that simple.

"Buddaye doad wad youdo be sig begause obbe!" The blue eyes were overbright and angry.

"I can't understand you, love. Please," Obi-Wan gathered more tissues. "Try again."

Qui-Gon blew until his nose was crimson. Obi-Wan held the tissues, patted Qui-Gon's back, and tried not to think about doing grevious bodily harm to Master Yoda. Was it not enough that his master's broad chest was marred by shiny pink scars and striped by his all-too-visible ribs? Must he also struggle with racking sneezes, heavy congestion, an aching head and a raw throat, simply because Yoda couldn't keep his germs to himself?

"How is it now, master?" Obi-Wan asked at length, as he carefully wiped around Jinn's nostrils. The edges of his nose and the skin just above his mustache were growing chapped; Obi-Wan resolved to find some soothing ointment as soon as Qui-Gon was settled in bed.

"Better," Qui-Gon rasped. "Buch better."

"I don't know about 'much,' but you sound a little clearer. What did you say before?"

"I said, 'But I doad wad you to be sick because of be.'"

"Well, I don't want you to be sick because of Master Yoda, so I think we're even."

"Doh…" Qui-Gon rubbed his forehead and leaned against the side of the tub. Fine lines of weariness marked his face. His eyes were smudged with exhaustion.

For the first time in years, Obi-Wan wished to be taller and broader. As a young apprentice, he had wished for his master's strength and style in battle; now, he wanted only to be able to gather Qui-Gon in his arms and rock him to sleep. Denied that possibility, he contented himself with wrapping one arm around the man's shoulders and kissing the top of his head. "Ready to get out?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "Habed washed by hair," he pointed out, pulling the half-wet mass forward over one shoulder.

Obi-Wan dipped one hand in the rapidly cooling bathwater and frowned. "You should use the sonics for that, love, so you don't get chilled." He changed the bathsettings from water to sonic, then set the tub draining. Qui-Gon shivered as the water fell away, his teeth rattling together, and Obi-Wan hurried to help him up and wrap the warm towel around him.

"Thag you."

"Nonsense." Obi-Wan rubbed Qui-Gon's back through the terrycloth. "Where's that shower bench?"

"Id the cupboard."

"Ah." Obi-Wan set it in place, then drew the frosted-glass shower panel across the tub. "Here. Will you be all right alone for a few minutes?"

"Of course." Qui-Gon straightened up, clearly making an effort to look better.

//But you'll call if you need help?// Kenobi asked silently.

A small nod. //Yes.//

"I won't be long. I'm just going to start some dinner."

Qui-Gon turned back from the shower, his expression stricken. "Didder. By Obi-Wad, you bust be hollow clear dowd to your dees! I'b fide, you eat!"

"I think I'll survive a little longer, master." Obi-Wan smiled and made small shooing motions. "In you go. I'll be back shortly."

When he had seen Jinn into the shower, Obi-Wan went first to the bedroom. A rumpled, unmade bed, an untidy pile of pillows, and a wastecan brimming with tissues offered mute testimony to Qui-Gon's illness. A pang went through Obi-Wan as he imagined his beloved here, lying feverish and sniffling without anyone to tend him. Quickly he remade the couch with clean sheets, stacked the pillows, and folded a few extra blankets at the foot.

"HESHhhuuh!" echoed over the noise of the sonics. "Hacheh!"

//Qui-Gon?//

"eh-Keshuh! KESH! heh-KESH!"

//Are you all right?//

//Fine, my love.// "KESHoo!" //The sonics just…// "hu-TCHA!" //tickle my nose.// "KESSHUH!"

// Do you…//

//Just a few sneezes. Don't fuss, Obi-Wan.//

//Very well.// Frowning, Obi-Wan moved on to the kitchen. At the moment, food obviously held little appeal for Qui-Gon, but it was just as plain that he needed nourishment to help him fight off the infection. Rummaging through the cupboards, Obi-Wan found a packet of instant hot pepper soup, and another of rice noodles. Perfect, he thought to himself. The strong flavor would cut through Qui-Gon's congestion, the noodles would be easy to chew, and the hot liquid would soothe his sore throat. Obi-Wan set the soup and noodles simmering, then sorted through Qui-Gon's collection of tea until he found the tin of nomel. He had just put on the kettle when the door chimed. Dusting off his hands, Obi-Wan went to answer it.

"Hi, Obi-Wan!" Anakin hugged Kenobi hard around the waist. "How was your mission? Did you have to fight at all? I've been learning the forms of defense. Will you help me sometime?" His eyes darted around the room. "Where's Master Qui-Gon?"

"In the shower, yes, no, fine." Obi-Wan made his face relax into a smile. "How are your studies, Anakin?"

"Okay. They've been testing me again this week. To…" he adopted Mace Windu's deep voice, "verify that I am progressing adequately, and not manifesting any dangerous instability." He continued in a normal tone. "It's not hard, but it's a pain, because they have me stay in a single room instead of my quad in the initiates' hall, and don't let me see Master Qui-Gon, either. But it's over now." He bounced on his toes. "Can I wait and talk to Master Qui-Gon when he's done in the shower?"

"I'll have to see how he feels."

"Did they push him really hard in ther… no," Anakin shook his head in answer to his own question. Concern shadowed his blue eyes. "He's sick. You're worried 'cause he's sick."

Even among Jedi, such accurate empathic perception was rare. Unnerved, Obi-Wan blinked once before replying. "He has a terrible cold."

"But just a cold?"

"For a man who was recently run through by a lightsaber, it's quite enough," Obi-Wan snapped.

Anakin seemed to shrink at the sharp tone. "I… I mean, it hasn't turned into bronchitis or… or… anything."

"Not yet. And I intend to see that it doesn't." Even if that means turning you away, he thought.

In the silence that followed, they could hear the sonics shut off, and the rattle of the shower door sliding back. Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan, waiting.

"There are a couple pots on the stove," Kenobi said, nodding towards the kitchen. "Make sure they don't boil over. I'll see how he is."

"Yes, sir." Anakin scurried to obey, while Obi-Wan turned towards the bathing room.

As he stepped out of the shower, Qui-Gon felt the first warning tickle. Determined not to sneeze, he drew the deepest breath he could and held it as he stood stock still, eyes shut, one hand half raised in case his plan failed.

The door opened. "Oh, love, here…" Obi-Wan said, pressing a tissue into Qui-Gon's hand.

The irritation abated. Cautiously, Jinn exhaled, then relaxed when no sneeze emerged. "It's all right," he told Obi-Wan. "I scared it off."

"No match for a Jedi master, hm?"

Qui-Gon smiled as Obi-Wan helped him into his bedrobe. "Baybe it will tell the story to it's sibligs, ad they'll all rud for the hills."

"I hope so." Obi-Wan laid one hand on Qui-Gon's bearded cheek. "Nasty creatures, wearing you out like this." He touched his lips briefly to the taller man's.

Qui-Gon ached to return the gesture, but consideration stopped him. He settled for wrapping both arms around Obi-Wan and resting his cheek against the young man's hair. "This ised how I wadded to welcobe you hobe," he said softly.

"Don't fuss." Humor tangled with the concern in Obi-Wan's voice, and Qui-Gon had to croak out a laugh at having his own words thrown back to him. "Now, sit down so I can fix your hair," Obi-Wan continued.

The soothing movement of a brush through his hair made Qui-Gon pleasantly drowsy. He was enjoying the gentle pressure of Obi-Wan braiding it back when, without warning, "HuhSHOOSHH!!" Huge and wet, the sneeze burst too fast for Qui-Gon to even raise a hand to catch it. However, he got a second chance - and a third, and a fourth. "Hashoo! Eh, uh, huh-KESHuh! h'SHASH! Ah, oh, I, heh, wasneheh, wasn't qui-ihihih heh-KESPLEW!" He snatched some tissues with one hand, keeping the other cupped over his nose. Brushing off Obi-Wan's offers of help, Qui-Gon cleared his nose as best he could, then dried his sneeze-sprayed hands. Then he had to blow his nose again, wincing at the touch of the tissue on his raw skin. "I wased sniff scary eduff," he remarked wearily. "They snff cabe bag. KOFF! Kuhkuhkuh Koff sniff KOFFKOFF!"

"Oh, Qui-Gon, hush, your poor chest, don't sniffle, won't cough so, oh, beloved…" Obi-Wan quickly tied off the braid and rubbed Qui-Gon's back. "Bed, this instant, and I'm going to call Healer Var."

"Dot dow, Obi-Wad, id the bordig… koff!" The pain in his side was so sharp it made Qui-Gon's eyes water and doubled him over.

"Master, you can't even sit up," Obi-Wan snapped. "I have no intention of spending the night listening to your breathing and wondering whether you have pneumonia or bronchitis."

Shame washed over Qui-Gon. Trouble, he was so much trouble to Obi-Wan. "I'b sorry…"

//Shh.// Obi-Wan's mental voice was stern, but tempered with worry and love. //Rest your throat.//

//I don't have bronchitis, love. It's just a tickle in my throat, truly.//

//Likely so.// Obi-Wan looked unconvinced. //All the same, I'd feel better hearing it from the healer.//

Qui-Gon looked up to answer, then looked down. The ominous tingling sensation was back. Oh, sith, not again, he thought desperately. He rubbed the back of his hand hard against his nose. Don't, don't, please, I'm so tired… "Ah… hah… hash… hah-RACH! HASHAH!" Too sore and weary to resist, he let Obi-Wan wipe his nose. //Maybe he'll have something to stop this?// he asked his lover hopefully.

"Maybe." Kenobi's fingers were blessedly cool and gentle through the harsh tissue. "Come. I'll tuck you in and call Var."

//That sounds good,// Qui-Gon confessed.

"I should think so." Obi-Wan gave a final dab to Qui-Gon's nostrils and dropped the tissues in the trash. "You look a miserable mess."

Jinn hung his head as Obi-Wan helped him up. That was what really hurt, even more than his head, his throat, his nose or his chest - that he was a croaking, snivelling mess to be cleaned up, when he wanted more than anything to look after Obi-Wan as the apprentice had so often tended him after a solo mission. Candles, his favorite tea, a back rub and a long, sleepy cuddling session on the sofa… nothing elaborate, but sadly beyond Qui-Gon's depleted abilities.

Kenobi pulled back the covers. "Here. No, I'll fix the pillows. How's that? Do you want another blanket?"

"Do you want some tea?"

Qui-Gon sat up abruptly, thwarting Obi-Wan's efforts to arrange his blankets. "Addakid?" he rasped, staring at the small fair-haired figure standing in the doorway with a tray. "Where did you cobe frob?"

Kenobi pressed a hand to Qui-Gon's lips. "What did I tell you?" he demanded. Then, rounding on Anakin, "And what did I tell you?"

"To watch the stove while you went to check. But the kettle boiled and the soup looked like it would be okay and the healers always say it's good to drink a lot when you're sick…"

"That was thoughtful, Anakin, but you need to go now. Master Qui-Gon's not in any shape…"

The boy's crushed expression warred with Qui-Gon's embarassment at being seen in such a pitiful state. After a moment's consideration, he plucked at Obi-Wan's sleeve. "Bidut?" he whispered.

"What's that?" Obi-Wan frowned down at him.

//Will you let him stay for just a minute or two? While you call Var? It will give me something to think about besides…// Qui-Gon waved vaguely at his unhealthy body.

Obi-Wan's faced softened. "All right. It's just as well for someone to keep an eye on you, I suppose. Never mind what I said, Ani, you can come in."

Skywalker advanced cautiously, wary of the tea tray and of Obi-Wan. "Thank you, sir."

"Would you mind sitting with Qui-Gon while I go use the comm?"

"No, Obi-Wan, sir."

"Don't make him talk too much."

"No, sir."

//I hardly think that will be a problem,// Qui-Gon sent wryly, as Obi-Wan departed and Anakin began to chatter once more.

"I'll pour you some tea, okay? I think this is what Obi-Wan wanted to make you. It's called nomel. I haven't had it before. It smells like medicine. Is it one you like, or do you just have to drink it when you're sick? Mom made me drink rea root tea when I had the scratching fever. It tasted awful. Really bitter. And she wouldn't put any sweetener in because she said that would make it work less. But I brought some honey. Do you want honey in it?"

"I would like sub, thag you, Addi."

He stirred the honey in, his round face serious. "You sound awful. Here. I hope it makes you feel better. Do you want some books to read? For tests Master Windu had me read some of the Ancient Prophecies. The words were really pretty, but I didn't understand a lot of it…"

Qui-Gon sipped his drink. The hot liquid was kind to his sore throat, and his congestion blunted the fierce taste of the nomel. He smiled a little, remembering his own padawan days when Yoda used to dose him with the pungent tea. "When drink nomel without complaining you do, sick I know you are," the ancient Jedi used to say, or "When tastes good nomel does, time to stay in bed it is." Qui-Gon had become more or less used to the flavor, and could usually stop a cold in its tracks by downing a few pots of the stuff. This infection, however, had gotten away from him.

As if on cue, the warning tickle started up again. Swallowing a groan, Qui-Gon set his mug down on the bedside table. The small thunk was lost in Anakin's monologue. His breath already growing uneven, Qui-Gon looked around, only to come to the grim realization that the tissues had been left behind in the bathing room.

"…so Pikki and Ras said 'why do you have to go,' and I told them…"

Qui-Gon broke in to Skywalker's sentence. "Addahh.. Addakid Ihihah deed eh… heh… h'SHKEH!" He muffled the explosion in the crook of his elbow. "Geeh… heheh… h'Chumphunh!" Qui-Gon couldn't suppress a little groan at the end of that one - stifled sneezes hurt worse than free ones, though he wouldn't have thought it possible. "Ti-ISHunh! Tissues… 'fresher… oh, heh-KSST! eh-KSST!" Dignity be damned, he couldn't stifle, it was too painful. "HESSHUN! h'KESHOO! hah, uh, eh, heh… heh… oh, Force… h' h' h'ASHAAAASH!!!"

"Wow." Tissue box in hand, Ani stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes wide with awe. "That was huge."

Qui-Gon blinked the tears from his eyes and peered over his sleeve at the boy. "Bay I habdat?" he asked, stretching out his free hand for the box.

"Oh. Yeah. Sure."

Turning away as much as he could, Qui-Gon once again set about the task of clearing his nose. He had discarded quite a little pile of tissues (which seemed to impress Anakin just as much as the enormity of his sneezes) when Obi-Wan returned.

"All right, love?" he asked, coming to rub Qui-Gon's shoulders. "I heard you from the main room, that sounded like a bad one."

"Fide. It's just tirig."

Obi-Wan kissed his forehead. "The healer will be up in a few minutes. You can have your soup now; that way, you can go straight to sleep after the exam." One slim finger touched the raw end of Qui-Gon's nose. //This looks so sore, best beloved. There's some healing cream in the cupboard, but you don't want me to put it on in front of Anakin, do you?//

//My perfect love.// Qui-Gon smiled wearily. //Yes, I am just vain and foolish enough for that.//

//It's all right. I know it takes a good deal of work to maintain a masterly demeanor when your nose won't stop dripping.//

//You are kind to indulge me.// "Soup would be dice, thag you."

"Are you guys done being mushy?" Anakin demanded.

"If Someone doesn't like it," Obi-Wan remarked mildly, as he resumed massaging Qui-Gon's back, "Someone can take the tray and go fetch Qui-Gon's soup."

"Y'know, there are rules against using initiates as slaves," Ani said darkly as he took the teapot and honey jar off the tray.

"Subwud is koff also KOFF koff…" Qui-Gon swallowed hard against the irritation in his throat.

Obi-Wan pressed the mug into his hand. //Shh, shh, just rest.// "You're perfectly free to go back to the initiate's hall. Though I think Qui-Gon would appreciate your staying a bit longer." //Promise you'll tell me if he's tiring you, my Qui-Gon.//

//I shall.//

//Promise?//

//Promise.//

"Okay." Anakin headed for the kitchen. "You've got five more minutes of mush. I'll make a lot of noise coming back, and…" he turned back in the doorway, put his hands on his hips, and in a perfect imitation of one of the nurses who'd tended Qui-Gon in the healers' hall, said: "I better not see any funny business!"

They couldn't get mushy; they were too busy laughing. Before Anakin could have reached the kitchen, Obi-Wan had the hiccups and Qui-Gon had laughed himself into a coughing fit.

Obi-Wan opened the door for Healer Var, a small, pale-skinned man with silver hair and very dark eyes. The blue robes of his vocation brushed the floor as he bowed to Obi-Wan. "Jedi Kenobi. I regret that we do not meet under more casual circumstances."

Obi-Wan returned the obeisance. "Healer. Thank you for coming so promptly."

Var dismissed the thanks with a wave of his hand. "Quite all right. In Qui-Gon's condition, any respiratory symptoms need careful watching. I'd much rather come out in the evening than have to put him in the healers' hall at midday. How is he? Any change since you and I spoke?"

"No. He's miserable as ever." Obi-Wan led the way towards the bedroom. "Sore throat, terrible congestion, and those wretched sneezing fits." Listing the symptoms made Obi-Wan's throat go tight with worry. "I think he has a touch of fever, but mostly he's just exhausted from sneezing through every day since Thursday."

"Do so log as that," Qui-Gon protested as they came in. He straightened up against the pillows. "It wased bad udill yesterday."

"Master Qui-Gon." Var bowed formally, then spoke with a familiarity bred of the many years he had cared for Jinn's illnesses and injuries. "Force, you are stuffed up, aren't you?"

"You think I bight dot have doticed?" He coughed a little and quickly swallowed some soup. To Obi-Wan's anxious eyes, Jinn looked even worse than he had earlier. His red-rimmed eyes held a hint of feverish glassiness, his lips were dry, and his entire body sagged under the weight of illness.

"Isn't it incredible?" Anakin shook his head. "He sounds like a Babiad – you know, those people who don't have noses at all."

"ANAKIN SKYWALKER…!" Obi-Wan whirled around to glare at the boy.

"…sorry…"

Qui-Gon made a hoarse, snuffling sound that bore some resemblence to a laugh. "True, Addi, but dot very tactful. It's best to keep those kides of observashuds to yourself."

"I'm really sorry, Master Qui-Gon. I… I… I'm really sorry."

"Hello, Anakin." Var nodded to the boy. "How have you been?"

"Fine, Healer Var."

"No talking like a Babiad for you, hm?"

"Why does everywud thig Addakid bade be sick?" Qui-Gon asked plaintively. "Before this evedig I haded seed hib for dearly ted days.

"Of course." Var came around to the head of the bed and rested a hand on Qui-Gon's chest. "Just a moment while I look you over…"

"Eved Yoda, for Force sakes. Every tibe Ihi… huh… h'SHUH!" His head bobbed violently down to meet a hastily raised sleeve. "Excu- ooh… heh-KASH! eh-CHAA! h'KESHunh! snff!" Qui-Gon bent over, one arm tight against his scars.

The healer used his free hand to offer the tissues. "Force be with…" he began, but Obi-Wan could see the fluttering of Qui-Gon's eyelids that meant more sneezes were on their way.

"Heshoo! eh-KEshoo! ah, uh, hushash!" His forehead furrowed, his shoulders hunched, and he turned further away from the healer as the spasm went on. "h'ATCHA! heh-KESH! heh-KESH!"

"You see what I mean," Obi-Wan told Var.

"Hmm, yes." The healer rested both hands on Qui-Gon's wounded side. "Have you taken any of your pain medicine, Qui-Gon?"

"Dot sids last dight," Qui-Gon croaked. Gathering a bunch of tissues, he gave a few trumpeting blows. As he wiped his nostrils, Obi-Wan caught a faint //owww…// over the bond. "I get too sleepy if I take it durig the day."

"Well, it's not day now, and unless I've lost my touch, you're having a good deal of pain." He moved on to check the glands in Qui-Gon's neck. "Where do you keep it?"

"Cabidet." He pointed to the bathing room.

"Anakin, would you? It's a blue bottle with a white cap."

"Sure." Skywalker trotted off.

//I'm going to send him back to the initiates' hall, Qui-Gon, he's just making trouble,// Obi-Wan sent.

//When the healer goes,// Qui-Gon replied. //Otherwise he'll worry.//

//Very well.//

"Speakig of bedicid, snff! is there edythig that will let be stop sdeezig for bore than ted bidutes?"

"Mouth open, please… This may sound strange, but I don't want to discourage the sneezing. Fine, you can close… I'm just going to look in your ears… You know that a cough clears intruding organisims, or the debris of infection, out of the lower respiratory tract -- the lungs and throat. A sneeze does the same, while also flushing out the nose and sinuses. At the moment, it looks like you have a viral infection somewhere in the upper respiratory system. Sneezing moves the infectious material out of his body, while sniffling, stifling, or otherwise suppressing a sneeze increases the chance of some viruses setting up shop in your chest. Which is what we want to avoid.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed fervently.

“Found it!" Anakin came running with the medicine bottle.

"Thank you." Var tapped out two pills and handed them to Qui-Gon. "Swallow these. I'm also going to give you a muscle relaxant injection, which will make it harder for you to tense up when you sneeze. Clenching those new muscles makes the pain much worse."

When the pills and the injection had been given, Var took out his stethedisc and earpiece, and listened carefully to every inch of Qui-Gon's chest. "Breathe… breathe… again… "

"sniff!"

"Again, please…"

"koff…snff KOFF! KOFFKOFF! KoffKOFF!"

"Once more.. thank you."

"Well?" Obi-Wan demanded.

Anakin leaned forward, small fists clenched. "Yeah, well?"

Var smiled. "There's no lung involvement."

Suddenly weak-kneed, Obi-Wan sat down on the bed.

//Told you,// Qui-Gon sent smugly, though relief showed in his bleary blue eyes.

//Shut up.// Kenobi interlaced his fingers with Jinn's. //You had me worried. You still have me worried.//

The healer went on, "I don't see any indication it will develop. All the same, Qui-Gon, you must tell someone if you have even a slight sense of anything wrong with your breathing. Even transitory tightness in the chest could be an important warning, so I need you to put the Iron Master mask away for the next week or so."

"I udderstad. Doad worry, I doad have ady wish to be back id the healers' hall adytibe sood."

"I trust you won't take it amiss if I say that the feeling is mutual." Var tucked his stethedisc away. "I'll leave a syringe here. You can have another injection in the morning if you want it. Beyond that…"

"Let be guess. Rest?"

"And drink all the clear fluids you can take. That will help the congestion. I'll come check on you tomorrow afternoon, but if you have any questions before then, please do call."

Qui-Gon inclined his head. "Thag you, healer."

"You're welcome, Master Jinn." Var bowed in return. "May the Force be with you." Straightening up, he caught Obi-Wan's eyes and indicated the outer room with a tiny jerk of his head.

"I'll be just a moment, master." Obi-Wan smoothed Qui-Gon's hair. "Ani, come, let's see if we can schedule a time to work on those defense forms." //Lie back and rest.//

Smiling slightly, Qui-Gon pulled the covers up higher on his chest. "Thag you for cobing by, Addakid. I'b sorry I cad talk very well. Doh," he held up a hand as the boy started to move towards him, "you had really better dot hug be."

"But Obi-Wan…" Skywalker protested.

"Doesed have roobbates who cad get sick." Qui-Gon grinned at the boy. "Cad you ibagid how buch trouble I'd be id with the iditiate basters if I gave you this?"

"I guess." Anakin patted Qui-Gon's leg through the covers. "I hope you feel better soon."

"Thag you."

Obi-Wan herded Anakin and Var through the door. Once in the common room, he sent Anakin to the deskcomp to check both their schedules and reserve a training room for some defense work, and then turned to the healer. "You wanted to talk?" he asked softly.

Var nodded. "Just a few things. You seem to have the situation very well in hand, but you know as well as I that Qui-Gon's not an easy invalid. The most important thing is to keep him resting quietly. Use any means necessary to enforce that. If he really fights staying in bed, it's better to let him come lie on the sofa, or even sit up in a chair, rather than let him work himself into a fever arguing about it."

"Or finding that he's slipped out anyway while your back was turned," Obi-Wan said ruefully.

"Exactly. He's not going to have much appetite, so things like that broth will be best. And all the tea, juice, and water you can pour into him, of course."

"But his lungs aren't infected?"

"No, no bronchitis, no pneumonia, not even a whisper of chest congestion. Simply a very, very nasty head cold."

"Thank the Force. Did you find a time, Anakin?"

"Um, after noon meal on Wednesday?"

Obi-Wan peer over the boy's shoulder at the screen. "Yes, that looks all right." He walked Anakin to the door. "I'll see you then. If not before."

"Okay."

"Healer," he bowed. "We'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, I'll…"

"hehCHAH!" came from the bedroom. Obi-Wan looked anxiously at the door, then back at Var.

"Come by later in the day, unless…"

"Ishaaaah!"

"You call me earlier."

"KESSHUN!"

"Certainly," Kenobi answered. "Thank you. For everything."

"heh-KESH! heh-KESH!"

Unable to stand it, Obi-Wan started back towards his master. "Forgive me, but…"

"Of course. Come along, Anakin." Var ushered the boy out into the hall. "Good night."

Obi-Wan found Qui-Gon poised on the edge of another massive sneeze: head tipped slightly back, face slack, eyes nearly closed, nostrils flaring, tissue hovering in midair, free hand bracing his side. "Eh… hah… hiSHOOSHH!" The thin paper was instantly soaked, but he had no opportunity to replace it as a series of sneezes shook him. "Hichoo! hih-KAshoo! Uh, ah, KESH! h'KESHAH! HATCHOO!" The overstrained tissue was almost disintegrating; Qui-Gon pressed one large hand over his mouth and nose in a futile effort to contain the sneezes. "hah, ah, ASHooo! Heshashoo! Ohhh… heh, h'CHASHumph! Hah-TCHAA! Unhhuhhh… snff KOFF! uh… heh… hihih… h'KESHAAH!"

"All done?" Obi-Wan asked softly, as he checked the top drawer of Qui-Gon's bureau. No clean handkerchiefs, of course – it wouldn't take many days of a cold like this to exhaust his meager supply. It was a sign of Qui-Gon's nature, Obi-Wan reflected as he rooted in another drawer for one of his own, that in his possession a standard supply box of twenty handkerchiefs dwindled so rapidly to six. On missions, or even just in the temple, Master Jinn was forever pulling a clean square of linen out of a belt pouch and giving it away: to bind a scraped knee, to dry tears, or even to cover a doll's bed. "Any more coming?" Obi-Wan asked again, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Doh bore dow," Qui-Gon replied.

Obi-Wan nodded. I must get that lotion for his nose, he thought as he unfolded the hanky, but this should at least be softer than the tissues. "Here…"

"Doad loogad be lig thad," Qui-Gon muttered. "DOH!" He jerked away from Obi-Wan's attempt to tend his nose. "I cad do id byself!"

//Not if you need to hold your side with one hand and keep the other over your face you can't. Please, Qui-Gon, don't be difficult.//

Jinn's face crumpled, and he turned away, slumping down to hide his face in the pillows. Horrified, Obi-Wan knelt up on the bed beside him. //Qui-Gon?//

//…so sorry…// An image drifted over the bond: Qui-Gon, ancient to the point of toothlessness, dripping mucus and making querelous demands on a figure so glowing with Light that Obi-Wan could barely recognize himself. //…not what you should have, disgusting, so ashamed, can't control…//

"Oh," he breathed aloud, eyes burning. "No, no, Qui-Gon, it's not like that." Very gently, Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Qui-Gon's chest and eased him up until the older man was leaning against him. //Not like that at all, best beloved.// He had to blink to keep the tears back. //You could never disgust me,// he sent, burying his face in the long silken hair. //Never, my only love.// He let his hand come to rest over the fresh scars, feeling the disturbance that the pain there made in the Force. //It is my privilege to care for you.//

//The master should not be a burden to the padawan.//

//Perhaps.// Obi-Wan brushed his lips against Qui-Gon's throat. //But you are not a burden.// Another, more searching kiss that made Jinn quiver in his arms. //Nor, as you so rightly pointed out some time ago, are you my master.//

//No…// Qui-Gon snuffled.

With a sympathetic mental smile, Obi-Wan asked, //May I help now?// At the timid answering nod, he picked up the handkerchief and tenderly dried the raw skin. //Now blow,// he instructed. //Again… good. More?//

//I'm go—// "ahHOOOSH!" //Oh, Force, Obi-Wan…//

"Shh, no harm…"

"Ashoo! Hakeshh! Uh, hah, hahSHUH!"

"It's all right, all right, my love." Obi-Wan dropped little kisses along Qui-Gon's twitching shoulder.

//All over you, so sorry…// "ISHunh! Huhishoo!"

"A little damp won't melt me."

"hah-CHEH! HACHOO! HAHsheh! Hih… eh… Force, where'd itihih, hih, HASHOOOOSH!"

Obi-Wan quickly dried his sprayed hand and offered up a dry stack of tissues. //Here, blow, yes, that's it. Once more… good.//

"Thag you, by love. That was quite bessy."

Sliding around to face Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan took the older man's face in his hands. "You are no longer my master," he said seriously. "You are my heart, Qui-Gon Jinn. Not just your solemn council-face, or your diplomatic skills, or your compassion, or the grace of your body, but your obstinate will and your scars and your sneezes. Every part of you, best beloved." His voice wobbled.

His eyes bright with more than fever, Qui-Gon touched Obi-Wan's cheek. "Obi-"

Obi-Wan pushed on. "I have been sharp and scolding with you tonight, and made you feel decrepit and disgusting, and for that, my love, I beg your forgiveness." Swallowing hard, he continued, "I was sharp because I was afraid, afraid this sickness would do what the Sith tried… to take you away from me. And my fear made you suffer, and I am… I am so sorry."

"Oh, by odly snff Obi-Wad, I kuff, koff KOFF! kuhkuh…" Shaking his head, Qui-Gon switched to telepathy. //My only Obi-Wan, I am as much to blame. While you were gone I brooded too much on my injuries, and with a head as stuffed and foggy as mine is now, small events assume ridiculous importance. But in whatever small measure forgiveness is needed here, you are forgiven, beloved.//

Kenobi bowed. //You showed me a picture,// he sent after a pause. //Would you let me show you one?//

//Of course.//

"Just a moment." Darting to the bathing room, Obi-Wan found a small jar of soothing anesthetic ointment, which he brought back. "I've been wanting to do this for what feels like hours," he explained as he carefully dabbed it onto Qui-Gon's raw skin. Then he fluffed the pillows and settled Qui-Gon back against them. "Comfortable?"

//Very much so.//

Satisfied, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and concentrated on building an image which would encapsulate his feelings at the moment. In his mind's eye he drew Qui-Gon: the noble form, the eyes as keen and blue as Kenobi's saber, the wide, expressive mouth, the crooked nose, the strong and sensitive hands. He let the picture absorb his intense affection for every physical attribute: how he thrilled to the touch of those hands, how his lips knew the contours of that face, how weak his knees could get at a look from those eyes. Then Obi-Wan let the illness in, along with the ache of love and worry he felt on seeing Qui-Gon so uncharacteristically weak. He showed how he longed to kiss away the lines of pain on Qui-Gon's forehead, to soothe the reddened skin of that poor beloved nose, to gather Jinn's feverish body in his arms and rock him into restful sleep. All that, and more, went in to the picture which Obi-Wan sent across the bond to his love.

//Oh…// Qui-Gon murmured, and was silent for a long time. //Oh, Obi-Wan….//

"Not disgusting, best beloved." Obi-Wan leaned over to kiss Qui-Gon's forehead. "And never, never a burden. Now," he changed to a businesslike tone, reaching for the teapot on the bedside table, "have a mug of tea, and then, do you think you'll be able to sleep?"

Obediently Qui-Gon took the cup. //I think so.// He swallowed the drink down like the medicine it was.

"How are you feeling?"

Qui-Gon smiled. //Like a slightly damaged middle-aged knight with the sniffles and an extremely attentive bondmate.// His brow creased slightly, then deeply. His smile turned rueful as he scrabbled for the tissues. Eyes closing, he added, //Who's… about to… sneeze.// He raised the tissues as his head tipped back with a "heh… eh…" then pressed them to his face over a loud, wet, "ESSHAAH! heh-CHASH! ATCHAH! eh, heh, hetishoo! heh-KESH! h'KESHaah, ha, h'KESHOOOSH!" Taking a fresh handful of tissues, he blew lustily. //I think that injection's taken effect. That hardly hurt at all,// he remarked with some surprise.

"I'm glad." Obi-Wan carefully applied a fresh layer of soothing cream to Qui-Gon's sore nose. "It sounds like you can clear your head more easily, too.''

"The pressure's a little better," Qui-Gon agreed, "but I still soud like a Babiad."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Anakin."

"Whed he's batured a bit, he'll bake subwud a fide padawad."

"Rest your throat," Obi-Wan ordered, straightening the covers. Then the sense of Qui-Gon's comment penetrated. "'Someone?' You're taking him, aren't you?" He managed to keep his voice neutral.

"Doh." Qui-Gon shook his head. "That's wud reasod I sped so buch tibe with Yoda. He's koff goig to take Addakid whed it's tibe."

Something in Obi-Wan's stomach that had been painfully clenched suddenly relaxed. "Oh."

"Such ad udusual padawad deeds ad experiedsed baster… ad I told Yoda he's the bost experiedsed id the Order."

"Anakin is quite exceptional…"

"Doh," Qui-Gon said firmly. "Addi is udusual. You, by perfect love, were exceptiodal. Are KOFF koff exceptiodal."

"Didn't I tell you to rest your voice?" The sternness of the words was rather spoiled by the fact that Obi-Wan couldn't stop grinning.

"But I'b do—" an enormous yawn interrupted him. //Never mind. I am tired.//

Obi-Wan kissed him, then gave one last tug to the blankets. "Warm enough?"

//Yes, quite cozy.//

"Pillows all right?"

//Perfect.//

"Plenty of tissues?"

In answer, Qui-Gon brandished the box.

"Tea where you can reach it?"

A nod.

"And you'll call me if you want anything?"

//Of course.//

"Anything at all? Even if it's third hour of the morning?"

//Really, Obi-Wan, you're going to spoil me.//

"Promise me, Qui-Gon."

//I promise.//

Obi-Wan dialed down the overhead light, then set one of the wall fixtures on its lowest setting. "I'll just be in the kitchen, love."

//All right. Good night, my Obi-Wan.//

"Good night, my Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan hovered in the doorway. "Perfectly comfortable?"

A raspy chuckle drifted out of the shadows. //Aside from the headache, the cement-like congestion and the incessant sneezing?//

"Well, yes. Nothing else I can do?"

A pause, then //No, love. Good night.//

"What is it?"

//What's what?//

"You paused."

He sensed rather than saw Jinn shake his head. //It's not a good idea.//

"I'll be the judge of that."

The bed creaked as Qui-Gon shifted positions. With some embarassment, he said aloud, "I'b a little lodely. Id bed by byself. But there's dothing to be dud."

"Of course there's something to be done." Obi-Wan kicked off his boots. "Don't be an idiot." He shrugged out of his tunic.

//No. Obi-Wan, no, if you haven't caught this already you're certainly going to get it if you…//

"So I'll do a healing trance tomorrow. Move over."

//Var won't…//

"Var told me to make sure you have plenty of rest." Obi-Wan slid between the sheets. "In fact, he told me to use any means necessary. Now, turn on your good side, that's it." He tucked himself close against Qui-Gon's back and wrapped both arms around his chest. "There. You can't even sneeze on me if you try."

Jinn let out a long sigh of contentment and nestled into the embrace. //Oh, my Obi-Wan, I have missed you.//

//And I you, my master.// He nuzzled Qui-Gon's warm neck.

//…not your master…// Qui-Gon sent drowsily.

//Qui-Gon?//

//Mm.//

//Go. To. Sleep.//

Qui-Gon patted Obi-Wan's hand, and a soft mental chuckle floated over the bond. //Yes… master.//

The End

All belongs to GL.