Note: There was this bunny that bit really hard…..and wouldn't let go until I put fingers to keyboard and tapped it all out. Thanks to all who've been reviewing my vigs. This one's for you. On a positive note: it's also complete. :)

Lotus-leaves

I

The tall, brown-cloaked figure moved at a leisurely pace along the narrow corridor, pausing once or twice to gaze at the murals that decorated the walls of the Master-Padawan residential floors. Walking with measured steps, it passed various numbered doorways until it came to the last but one - and stopped. Placing a large hand on the control panel, it manoeuvred the workings slightly, whereupon the door swished open gently.

Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn stepped into the quarters he shared with his apprentice, and stood still for a moment, breathing deeply. The common area was as neat as could be expected of two Jedi residing in it - one of whom, for the past month, had been involved in an assignment under the tutelage of the Chief Archivist of the Jedi Temple, and another who had spent the chief of that period on a mission that seemed to prolong its existence for an eternity. In other words, it looked relatively neat, and comfortable.

Resisting a temptation to sink down into the coach that stood to one side of the room, Qui-Gon scanned the quarters...ah, yes. His apprentice - all of twenty-three cycles - was in the cooking-area, and judging by the mixture of smells emanating from there, it appeared that he was preparing last meal. Unwrapping his cloak and placing it on the arm of the couch, the master moved towards the entrance to the cooking-area. Once there, he espied his padawan engaged in stirring something on the heating-unit - and paused.

It had been many weeks since the master had had the leisure to indulge in something as simple as watching his apprentice go about his duties - both had been much too involved in Temple affairs to spare much time for such activities, lately. Under the circumstances, it was advisable to utilise whatever opportunity that presented itself, and derive as much pleasure as he could, from watching a slightly unwieldy padawan pick his way around the cooking-area - and he seemed particularly awkward this evening.

Qui-Gon positioned himself slightly to the side of the entrance, at a vantage point from which he could see into the kitchenette - his apprentice's view, however, was blocked. Masking his Force presence accomplished the desired result - and, assisted by a few delicate probes of the Force, he watched Obi-Wan break a couple of welnet cubes over the vessel, and stir it laboriously. The resultant fragrance made Qui-Gon want to walk over and sample it at once - he had had not food since First meal - but he hesitated, watching, as his padawan stood looking into the vessel, frowning.

Strange. Obi-Wan had never really relished cooking duties in the early years of his apprenticeship; later, however, his master's taste for culinary activities seemed to have rubbed off on him, and the padawan delighted in preparing occasional meals. The last four weeks had seen Qui-Gon flitting in and out of their quarters on his mission - he had not had much time to observe changes, if any. He watched for a while longer, as Obi-Wan placed another utensil on the adjacent heating unit, poured a quantity of cooking oil in it, stared off into space, his attention obviously elsewhere - and spent the next few minutes in hunting for something frantically.

Qui-Gon watched, quizzically, as Obi-Wan probed through the shelves underneath and those above the heating unit in a desperate search - and decided that enough was enough.

"You've just poured the belie oil into the vessel, Obi-Wan," he murmured as he walked in, picked up the container and deposited it back on the shelf - considerably startling his apprentice, in the process.

"Master?" Obi-Wan moved away from the counter, his eyes a mixture of eagerness, surprise - and delight. "You're back early."

"As you see." Qui-Gon bent over the vessel and scrutinized the concoction bubbling away cheerily. "This - whatever this is - seems to be appetizing, padawan." He turned. "And don't use any more belie than necessary - it ruins the taste."

Obi-Wan's face turned a delicate shade of pink as he rubbed his hands on a soft cloth. "I won't. I just..." He waved a hand, and a shelf-door sprung open. "Forgot that I had added it." Before his master could continue, he forged ahead. "But I didn't sense you coming in," he directed a look of mock anger. "Is it - can it be possible that you were spying on me?"

"Two doses of belie oil constitutes a great crime, padawan mine," Qui-Gon commented solemnly. "I wished to see what further catastrophe you would commit." His eyes twinkled. Obi-Wan's smile, he noted, was rather absent-minded.

"How did the negotiations go?" Obi-Wan asked, turning away to replace the various containers he had pulled out to aid him in the cooking process.

"As well as can be expected, considering previous history existing between the Calains and the lesser - as they call their cousins - beings," Qui-Gon remarked. "It went the way of all negotiations...and has ended in a satisfactory manner - for the present."

Obi-Wan shut the shelf-doors with a snap of the Force - hoping that Qui-Gon would not administer a small lecture on 'frivolous uses of the Force'. "I'm glad. This mission has been - taxing, for you."

"Quite so." He paused, watching as Obi-Wan washed and dried a couple of plates - and his eyes noted a tell-tale tremble. "And what of your own assignment?"

"Also ended, for the time being," Obi-Wan smiled slightly. "We found the ancient readings after weeks of search - not to mention frequent expeditions to Chandren, hunting for long-forgotten scrolls. But it was accomplished. Archivist T'shar was - content. Master Yoda acknowledged himself satisfied, at any rate. It means a great deal to him - and a few others, I think."

"Which was why they required your assistance, in the first place. I would not have agreed to-er-lend you for anything less," Qui-Gon smiled. "However, padawan mine...your work seems to have taken its toll on you."

Obi-Wan paused in the midst of drying. "Not really, master. I'm quite all right." He began rinsing the plates. "You saw me last week - what could be wrong with me?"

"Nothing, I hope. For that very reason, padawan...I wonder why you must needs rinse and dry our plates three times," the master spoke gently. Obi-Wan stopped at once and looked down at his hands, as though suddenly aware of what he had been doing.

"Three times?"

"You were beginning on the fourth, if I was not mistaken."

"Oh."

"Yes."

Obi-wan placed the plates on the counter gently, wiping his hands. "I'm afraid I wasn't very focussed, then," he said, his mouth curving into a tentative smile. "Possibly because I was anticipating your arrival."

"While that is a flattering response..." Qui-Gon folded his arms and stood looking down at his slender apprentice who, now that the plates had been thoroughly cleaned, seemed at a loss for something to do. "You're not well, young one."

Obi-Wan's smile broadened, but the master noticed that the young man did not raise his eyes. "I'm perfectly fit, master - it's been more than two months since I last visited the Healer's," he chuckled.

Qui-Gon smiled in turn. "A blow for them, I think. And yet, padawan..." The master changed the subject abruptly. "I have not had the pleasure of knowing Archivist T'shar - aside from a few introductory moments before I left for Calai. How did you find her?"

Obi-Wan appeared to be surprised at the question. Darting a swift, appraising look at the master, he spoke. "Competent. Efficient. She is, after all Madame Nu's replacement, and hand-picked by her...she takes her role as Chief Archivist - even if it is for a limited period - very seriously." He paused, remembering, as it were, to arrange the dishes on the table in the common area. "She did, after all, want to work in the Temple Archives."

"Did she?" The master had followed Obi-Wan into the room.

Obi-Wan quirked an eye-brow. "That's certainly what I understood. I believe she was chosen at twelve, and trained by Master Shante as his padawan - but was soon transferred to the Archives section, at her request, as well as her master's." He shook his head slightly. "I confess I don't concur with her wish to become an Archivist...but then, I don't think she understands my need to be - ah - 'gallivanting' around the galaxy on perpetual missions."

Qui-Gon smiled, as he settled himself in a chair. "You sound as though you were repeating the words of someone else - Archivist T'shar's?"

"Of course. When one is forced to spend time in the company of another..." He threw a mischievous smile at Qui-Gon, as the latter helped himself to liberal servings of welnet stew, "...One is forced to learn certain things about him or her."

"If you will insist on indulging me, Obi-Wan, then I shall be forced to take advantage of your culinary excesses," commented the master. "Any messages for me, in the meantime?"

"Three - and all from His Majesty, the Most illustrious King Bjede Zor, Ruler of the Most Beautiful Scaltia, High-Keeper of the Seven Cavern-Crystals of Cratza, Count of - "

"Enough, padawan. The substance of those messages?"

"The substance of the previous five, master. He still believes himself to be under some sort of debt to us - the one which he claims is unpaid after the assassination attempt on him that we foiled six months ago...and he wishes to cancel it with a week of royal-ah-hospitality on Scaltia."

"Such perseverance, padawan," said Qui-Gon, as he scooped the last of the stew off his plate, noting simultaneously that the apprentice's plate was almost untouched. "You could take a few lessons from him."

"I can do without knowing how to make myself a pest, thank you," Obi-Wan grimaced as he poked the stew with his spoon. "Of course, the King means well, and I sense his gratitude..."

"Now that you've fulfilled your assignment, is there anything else that should keep you at the Temple?"

Obi-Wan frowned. "I've completed the second-level initiates training sabre sessions, and my work on Advanced Geological Variations of Senueran Plains - " he smiled at Qui-Gon's wry look " - is done. No, I don't believe I've anything to keep me at the Temple." He looked up suddenly. "Why?"

"Pack what you will need for a week - we're leaving on a mission."