Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.

Acknowledgments: Co-written with CaideSin. Inspired by the Clone Wars comics, and the Revenge of the Sith comic adaption.

Aubrey's crap: I'm going to try and keep updates pretty regular. The final draft for this isn't finished, but I'll try to get a new chapter up every week or two. Also, I'll have some new stories up soon. So watch out for news about them in my bio!

---

A Better Place
Chapter One
Beginnings

---

Obi-Wan was expecting them back, and he was expecting them to be easy to spot. Quinlan Vos would always be bad with those disguises. So, Obi-Wan's eyes were trained for one dark skinned man with a Twi'Lek at his side. He searched the spaceport from morning to afternoon, watching every ship. This was the day Quin had said, wasn't it? Had they been delayed? Were they captured? Maybe he shouldn't be standing in the open like this? He drew back into the Force, under the current of surrounding people. His own disguise had seemed sufficient, but had he erred? The heat must have been getting to him, he decided. He was distracted, and someone actually managed to sneak up on him. Obi-Wan turned slowly, tensed and wary, just to see Quinlan.

"You're alone," Kenobi noted intelligently.

"Aayla's hurt," Quinlan explained. "Not to mention selfless. She didn't want to slow me down, so she sent me on my own way."

"I see." Obi-Wan nodded. He looked about furtively, before returning his attention to the other. He was jumpy now, and he didn't really wish to stay in the open any longer. If he couldn't get home by dark, he at least wanted to find a room to stay in. "Well, what are your plans then?" He inquired as he turned, heading for the nearest inn. They were all about equally dilapidated. He wasn't going to be fussy about accommodations.

"Oh," Quin shrugged, sauntering nonchalantly along side his companion. "I thought I'd mooch off – I mean, keep you company for a while." His dark eyes glittered with teasing amusement.

His friend, however, didn't share any of his mirth. He didn't respond to Quinlan in any way. He just kept trudging along purposefully. Then he took care of his room, sharing a few words as possible with the fat Dugg behind the desk. Obi-Wan was well aware that Quin didn't like the silence, but Obi-Wan was in a state of not caring. His apathy was directly stress related. Two Jedi shouldn't stay together for extended periods. Vader would have no trouble finding them. Obi-Wan had to stay there and watch Luke. He had to train…he didn't have time to for Quinlan Vos to be prancing about.

"Alright," he murmured finally.

"Thanks," Quinlan clapped him on the back with a smirk. "You always were too soft for your own good," he added, sliding his own credits across the desk, in exchange for a room key. His double agent work with Dooku and the Separatists, during the war, had earned him a small mass of credits, which he'd kept all to himself. "As I recall, that's what landed you a youngling, fresh out of training." His tone was light, obviously a subtle and vain attempt to make conversation while being gentle, all at once. He wasn't prepared for the violent wince. Obi-Wan's entire body seized up, and the Force fluxed unpleasantly. Quin felt a twinge in his temples. Then it was gone and Obi-Wan was heading slowly up the stairs, as if it were nothing.

"Hmm, yes, I suppose you recall correctly." He just barely heard his friend say.

Quinlan tossed a look after him. Obi-Wan wasn't the only one with Padawan problems. Aayla might not have been dead yet, but she and Quin had both known, when they'd parted, that they'd never see each other again. The galaxy was too big… He didn't say anything, though. Obi-Wan wouldn't want his sympathy, and he had none to offer.

They stopped in the hallway, to go into separate rooms. Kenobi turned to look at him, his face calm, serene, and the very picture of proper Jedi decorum.

"I have a…house, out in the desert. That's where I'll be staying. If you dislike that idea, then you don't have to follow me."

Quinlan merely shrugged his words off, heading into his room with barely a word.

"I'm in no place to be picky," he reminded Obi-Wan, shutting the door. His credits wouldn't last long, at the price of room and board, and not everyone in Hutt Space would accept them to begin with. He knew that from his dealing with the CIS, on Nar Shadaa.

They both retired early and with great ease. Years of being Jedi had their bodies trained to rest when they were ordered to. In the morning, they were both ready for their hard trek across the sands. Obi-Wan wanted to leave immediately, but Quin wouldn't be budged without eating first. He thought the irritated look on his friend's face was pretty amusing, too.

So, smirking at him, Quinlan just chucked and tugged him off to a nearby cantina. A quick bite to eat wouldn't be a big tip-off to the Empire, and he told Obi-Wan as much.

"That's beside the point," Obi-Wan replied tersely. "I know you could make the journey without food."

"Of course I could," the other fugitive Jedi agreed, flopping down into the first empty chair that he reached. "But, that doesn't mean I will, and I wish you luck on trying to make me."

"You're just wasting your credits now, Quin," the shorter man groused.

Quinlan offered him an aggravated look. Obi-Wan hadn't changed a bit since their days of Temple training. He was still by the book, far too practical and far too dull.

"Do you always have to make sense?" he wondered with a sigh.

"Yes," Obi-Wan muttered, but by now it didn't matter. A waitress was dropping a plate of greasy, disgusting, "Force, Quin, don't eat that…" The man winced. He couldn't decipher was it was, but it appeared to still be moving.

"You have something better to feed me?" the darker man wondered, poking the food, albeit cautiously, with his fork.

"At home, I do." Kenobi replied, still looking at the vaguely sludge colored substance. "You can make the trip without food."

"Fine." Quinlan relented finally, shoving the food away and standing up – conveniently managing to ignore the angry calls of the establishment owner, as he strolled away from the outdoor table he'd been at. "I suppose."

They left, and Obi-Wan found his way back to the Eopie he'd ridden. Quinlan looked at the creature incredulously.

"You may walk, if you'd like," Obi-Wan offered. He was well aware that the things smelled awful, but he was a Jedi, he could persevere. Quinlan knew he'd been in some rough circumstances, during the war, but stinky animals were usually where he drew the line. Usually.

"I think I'll have to take you up on that," he decided. "That thing might get…crowded."

Obi-Wan's smile irritated him a bit, but the look didn't last long. Kenobi didn't waste another moment before setting off. It wasn't like the desert was going to be any picnic; he shouldn't have been so revved up about it!

Eventually, after hours of wandering, seemingly aimlessly, through the barren sands, they arrived at Obi-Wan's 'house'. Quinlan shot a skeptical look at the place. 'House' seemed to have been used in the loosest possible way, but he held his tongue. Quin had a feeling that inadvertently referencing both his friend's late Master and Padawan, the day before, had earned Kenobi a bit of reprieve on his décor. That didn't magically turn the cave into a mansion, though. It was a small cave too, damn it. What was Obi-Wan thinking? With Bail Organa at his back, he could have gotten somewhere decent! But, no! Obi-Wan approached his glorious hovel as though he had missed it dearly.

"I need to check on the garden," Obi-Wan said, as he tied up the Eopie. "Go in and…" he didn't even know what he was going to say, apparently. "Just go in."

"Sure thing," Quin agreed, moseying into the little house. When he'd accused Obi-Wan of being a hermit, the last time they'd met up here, he hadn't meant it so literally. But, judging by the fact that the house was obviously furnished for one person…Obi-Wan hadn't been expecting to receive any company…ever. It held one bed, one kitchen chair, one…the point made itself.

Obi-Wan returned when Quin was just beginning to feel absolutely despondent. He turned to look at this friend, studying him more intently than he had before. Obi-Wan was dusty. Quin was probably going to look like that too: all dusty and baked.

"I think things will be alright, for a while, with you here. I should have enough rations and such," Obi-Wan said. He was uncomfortable, but who could blame him? He was getting used to his life of solitude. Quin took one more look around Obi-Wan's house, before looking to him and nodding.

"I managed to cheat the Separatists out of some credits, during the war," he told Obi-Wan after a moment. "So, if you need help with rations, or…furniture, while I'm here, I can probably trade them for some local currency, and help out."

Obi-Wan's mouth crooked ironically.

"Oh, no, Quin. I'm become quite an accomplished farmer. It seems agriculture was my destiny all along." Quin felt his stomach turn, just a little, at that comment. Had Obi-Wan just completely waved aside Qui-Gon, as if he were a mistake? Damn Kenobi was confusing!

"Maybe," he played along, after a moment, trying to keep his tone light. "Who knows? Maybe Dooku was destined to become a lawyer, too."

The smile on Obi-Wan's face was downright disturbing. "His destiny was also in agriculture. Fertilizer." The other man didn't seem to be joking, or playful, or anything.

Quinlan offered him a wary look. Perhaps the combined trauma of this Order Sixty-Six, and all the time he'd spent in the sun, had caused some permanent brain damage on poor Obi-Wan?

"I heard Skywalker did quite a number on the dear Count, and you slept through it," he recollected, sitting down on the one chair present in the house.

Obi-Wan just twitched, which simply confirmed Quinlan's brain damage theory. The Kiffar made a quick mental note to take the first opportunity to leech some memories from Obi-Wan's sparse possessions, as soon as he could. For now, though, he just tried to at least keep his host calm.

"We were all affected by the war," he awkwardly attempted to offer in consolation, quickly coming to the conclusion that the best thing he could do would be to stop talking all together. "Some just more than others."

"Yes, some of us are dead." the other man mumbled. He didn't seem inclined to speak any longer, either. This was looking to be a long and arduous stay.

They spent most of the rest of the afternoon in silence. Dinner was an equally quiet even, what with Obi-Wan stewing in his apparent insanity, and Quinlan brooding over how not-according-to-plan this visit was shaping up to be. He'd been worried about Obi-Wan, when he'd first decided to seek him out. He'd wanted more information. When he'd volunteered to return there, he'd thought Aayla would be with him. Once she told him that wasn't the case, he'd been far too aware that he had no other option but to follow through with his self-invitation. As it was, he was concerned for his former Padawan too. She hadn't been in a good condition, when he'd left her…

"Do you plan to share that thing?" Quin wondered finally, gesturing to the lone sleep mat, situated comfortably in the corner.

"Of course, or at least until you're inclined to make arrangements of your own. You know the way here now, so you're quite capable of going to town and coming back," Obi-Wan replied, not even opening his eyes from where he sat, Quin wasn't sure if he'd actually been meditating or not. It looked suspiciously as if Obi-Wan was just been killing time.

"Great," the former Guardian sighed, leaning back in his chair and closing his own eyes thoughtfully. Well, now he knew how to break the tension. It had always worked so well when they were Padawans, after all.

So now it was time, once more, to play the waiting game. Quinlan couldn't say he was enjoying himself…and he had to wonder what kind of rules he could break. He had plenty of time to think about it, with Obi-Wan doing his best imitation of a Temple statue.

Eventually, he concluded that in order to break the rules, he first had to know them. As it was, he wasn't entirely sure the same of Jedi rules still applied…not that he'd ever set much store in them, to begin with, he mused, his memories drifting idly back to Khaleen.