Oops, sorry! In that case, I would like to request fic of the same! Maybe something where Qui-Gon’s ghost hangs out with Obi-Wan on Tatooine? (That’s a fic I would have written myself, YEARS ago, but I never did!)


As the heat rose, making the small hut in the shade swelter, Obi-Wan sat and tried to ignore it to meditate. After all, the flesh was merely crude matter. He should not let distractions prevent him from achieving the ability to keep his personality in the Force.

Even with the heat so familiar, bringing a phantom smell of sulfur and burning flesh with it. His mind catapulted towards that memory, that day that left him in Hell and his heart ashes and-


A feeling of cool spread through him, and he sensed a presence at the back of his mind keeping his living nightmare at bay. “Qui-Gon,” he murmured.

“Hello again. It has been a while.”

“Fifteen years, if I remember correctly,” Obi-Wan whispered hoarsely. He did not dare to open his eyes.

“Four, actually. We spoke on Mortis, if you remember.”

“That really was you. Not some hallucination?”


A flash of anger overtook Obi-Wan. “And your first thing to say, after being dead for so long, was not ‘how are you doing’ or ‘it is good to see you’, but ‘Did you train the boy’. And see how that turned out! Apparently I failed.”

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon’s phantom voice seemed to sigh. “I apologize. I assumed that how much I cared about you never needed to be said. It seems to be a flaw many Jedi had.”

Obi-Wan deflated. “Yes. I guess it is.”

“It was not all your fault, you know.”

Obi-Wan scrunched his eyes, and pinched the bridge to his nose with his left hand. “Logically, I know it. But it does not feel that way. Can we just get to your training?”

Qui-Gon’s presence seemed to chuckle, shaking the Force with slight amusement. “We have time to get to the training. For now, Obi-Wan, I simply want to know; how are you doing?”