The Ondarian Virus
This part's rating: G
See part 0 for full header
Additional notes: This part makes another reference to my 'sick while on a mission' fiasco fic which is currently unfinished. You needn't read it to enjoy this, however. Which is good because, again, that one is currently unfinished.
"No, actually. Though I truly have enjoyed our visit to Ondari, I am looking forward to returning home to Coruscant," Obi-Wan said as he carefully folded one of his tunics and placed it into his duffle bag. He looked up and smiled at his master, who was packing a bag on the other side of the bed. A slight sniffle caught in Obi-Wan's nose and he rubbed the side of his hand at it. With a finger pressed up against his nose and his palm over his mouth, he welcomed the sneeze on. "ahh-Kshuhhh!"
"I suppose the call of a warm, familiar bed has nothing do with it?" Qui-Gon teased.
Obi-Wan smiled and tucked a pair of socks into his bag beside his sleep pants. "I must admit I have not slept as well here as I do at home. The bed is far too hard and the crickets are not nearly as soothing as the sound of hovercars zooming past the window in the middle of the night."
Qui-Gon smiled to himself and shook his head. The quarters they'd been assigned had been plain and calming to him. Unlike their quarters at Coruscant which were small and dark with only one window, the rooms here were white and had windows that stretched nearly from floor to ceiling. There was a private 'fresher, a living room area with a couch and desk and one bedroom with one bed, as they'd mentioned they did not require two. The only real color in the rooms, apart from the tan carpet and tan drapes, had been various potted plants that swayed as breezes came in through the various windows. It was a beautiful place to wake up and meditate in, though they had both meditated more out in the gardens surrounding the building than in the rooms. Qui-Gon knew he was going to miss Ondari, but he took with him memories from their trip.
However, it seemed Obi-Wan was going to take with him more than just memories. "HahhShuhhh! ehhhKshuhhh!"
"Bless you, Padawan," Qui-Gon said casually. He bent and checked beneath the bed to be sure nothing of theirs had accidentally been kicked beneath. It seemed nothing had been.
Obi-Wan continued packing carefully, while Qui-Gon threw items into his own bag a bit haphazardly. They were scheduled to leave quite shortly. They had brought enough for their two week mission, but Jedi tended to travel light so they had intentionally left the packing to the last very moment.
"Bless you," Qui-Gon called over again. He zipped up his bag and looked over at Obi-Wan. The young Jedi padawan looked tired, indeed, but Qui-Gon thought he saw a flash of something else in those soft eyes. These weren't just ordinary sneezes. He sighed. "Only you, Padawan Mine, could come down with a cold on the last day of our mission."
Obi-Wan sniffed against the back of his head a few times. "It is better than coming down with something during the first day, is it not?"
There was no way Qui-Gon could disagree with that. "It wouldn't have been the first time. I can still clearly remember that fiasco on De'nairi, for example..."
With a deep groan, Obi-Wan smacked his palm against his forehead. So long as they lived, his master was never going to let him forget that one. "Yes. So can I... hahh..." he cupped both hands to his face and hunched forward in anticipation. "AhhhChuhhhh! HuhChuhhh!"
Qui-Gon eyed him and walked over. He pulled a beautifully folded handkerchief out of Obi-Wan's duffle and handed it over. "You'd better keep a couple of these out for the journey home, don't you think?"
Obi-Wan took the handkerchief and rubbed his nose into it. He sniffed and nodded, then shoved it into his pocket. "It's only a little cold, Qui," he said softly.
"Of course it is," Qui-Gon said reassuringly, though that spark in Obi-Wan's eyes was back, and Qui-Gon guessed it meant a fever. This was no little cold.
The room's communicator rang and flashed with an incoming call. "Would you get that, please, Padawan?"
Obi-Wan nodded and walked to the living room to flip on the communicator. "Yes?" The transmission was audio-only and Obi-Wan was somewhat glad of that since he was rubbing at his nose again.
The voice on the other end belonged to one of the hanger workers. "We've brought your ship around for you. You are cleared to leave at any time."
"Thank you very much," Obi-Wan said to the man. "We'll be there very shortly." He turned back to find that Qui-Gon had finished packing for him, though he left two handkerchiefs out on top of the bag. "Are we ready to go, then?" Obi-Wan asked, slipping the hankies into his pocket and slinging the bag over his shoulder.
Qui-Gon took one last look around their room, then nodded. "Yes. Let's go home, Obi."
He put his arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders and squeezed. Obi-Wan leaned into his master, then looked up at him. "Master, may I pilot the ship during take-off?"
They left the room, leaving the door open behind them, and headed down the hallway. "Hmm," Qui-Gon considered the request carefully. "Well, you do need the practice. And the skies are pretty clear. But the atmosphere is thick and you're still a little timid with the accelerator." He looked down to see Obi-Wan rubbing at his nose again. "Are you certain you would be able to handle it given your...?" He raised an eyebrow suspiciously.
Obi-Wan nodded and sniffed hard. "It's just a little cold, Qui-Gon. I'll be fine." Qui-Gon said nothing more, though Obi-Wan waited. Finally he pushed, "So, may I?" Qui-Gon nodded and Obi-Wan's pace quickened with excitement as they headed down to the hanger.