Chapter Text
The lecture hall of “The History of Interplanetary Conflict: Star Systems and Pre-Modern Warfare” is freezing. Obi-Wan fights to concentrate on the lesson. He reaches out to the force, trying to release his physical discomfort so that he can focus, but the force feels muffled, like he’s trying to reach it through a thick layer of cotton.
Even the force is cold, he thinks, huffing.
It had been three long weeks of the temple’s winter cycle. If asked, Obi-Wan could explain logically that there is a psychological benefit to embracing a seasonal cycle— though the Jedi maintain this cycle artificially, as the location of the temple on Coruscant does not allow any true access to the natural weather cycle.
In fact, he had celebrated the first snow in the gardens with the crechelings: he never grew out of the delight of letting the slow water crystals fall on his face, chilling his skin and wetting his eyelashes so they clump together. He had been on a mission with his master last year, missing all of the cold cycle, and while at the time he had been disappointed, now he was wishing for the climate controlled space ships, and the heat that comes with sharing close quarters with others in such a small space.
He had also welcomed the incoming Jedi who come home each year when temple gets colder, the ones belonging to species that struggle with the moderate temperatures that human and near-human species find comfortable. Even now, they found the temple a bit warm. Obi-Wan was truly grateful that the seasonal cycle allowed them to connect with the Coruscanti Jedi in person, to check in with the order. He feels vaguely guilty for the fact that there are Jedi so adapted to cold climates that they are unable to live in the temple all year without special accommodations, and that he has never had to think about this problem.
It is a privilege to be able to live in the temple all year, and Obi-Wan has unknowingly had that privilege since he was first dropped into the crechemaster’s arms as a baby.
So really, he has no right to be complaining of the temperature in the temple. It is what’s best for the Jedi Order.
That doesn’t mean he isn’t cold.
The end of the class chimed, and Obi-Wan calls on all his training not to jump. He had missed at least half of the content of the lesson, and he groans internally thinking of the extra work he’s going to have to do to catch up.
Thankfully, that was his last class of the day. He heads back to his quarters, hoping that his master is still busy elsewhere. He's dreaming of the thick quilts on Qui-Gon’s bed, which were given to him as a gift from Master Tahl, who noticed that he was too tall for the standard issue blankets provided by the quartermaster and had never requested new ones. The quartermaster had remembered to give him a tall enough bed, but somehow hadn’t given him blankets to match.
Obi-Wan planned to take advantage of that bed, and the quilts on it, for as long as he could before his master got home and noticed it was occupied.
When he arrives at their quarters, Qui-Gon’s boots are sitting by the door and Obi-Wan fights a sigh. There goes that plan.
“Padawan?” his master steps out of the kitchen and casts a critical eye over Obi-Wan. “What’s wrong? You feel unsettled.” A wave of calm and comfort through their bond makes Obi-Wan relax slightly, but it does nothing to fight the physical chill.
“Nothing, master. I had trouble concentrating during my last lecture and I’m sorry to say I missed most of the content. I plan to read over the lecture notes and the source materials before next week, but it will take time away from my legal ethics course.” Obi-Wan carefully doesn’t tell his master that he hadn’t been able to focus in any of his other classes today either. Or his classes yesterday, really. He has plans to make up for these failings, and his master’s disappointment in him wouldn’t help speed them along.
Qui-Gon looked amused. “Well, my ambitious padawan, answer me this. Why on earth are you taking a legal ethics course in the first place? It’s not on the required or suggested course list for padawans. Do you plan on becoming a lawyer instead of a knight?” His tone was light and teasing: Obi-Wan always takes too many classes for Qui-Gon’s liking. His course load is quite challenging compared to his peers, but Obi-Wan can’t help wanting to learn when he looks through the available classes.
Being away from the temple so often during his apprenticeship has allowed Obi-Wan to make his way through his standard classes— and many others— on an accelerated schedule. It means that the classes he has yet to take are all specialty courses which are less applicable to the life of a Jedi knight. Qui-Gon, while unmistakably proud of his padawan for his academic achievements, has always tried to temper Obi-Wan’s expectations for himself. Obi-Wan’s work ethic has led to no few incidents, as he tends to push himself past his body’s limitations to pursue his academic interests.
“No, Master, but a true student never turns away from the pursuit of knowledge,” Obi-Wan matches his master’s light tone with his typical response, and Qui-Gon laughs.
“Well then my student, perhaps you wouldn’t mind pursuing knowledge of a more culinary variety with me?” He pulls a box from the kitchen and holds it up for Obi-Wan to see. It’s a meal box, proclaiming that it will teach them how to cook kebroot tubers with only the ingredients provided.
“Of course not, master,” Obi-Wan replies.
Historically, Qui-Gon’s cooking had been, in a word, edible. It wasn’t until a harrying trip to the healers which resulted in stern words that Obi-Wan would either eat more willingly or be admitted and have his eating monitored that Qui-Gon had stopped relying entirely on the food from the refectory. In order to preserve Obi-Wan’s privacy while also keeping an eye on his diet, Qui-Gon had started learning to cook for taste instead of for basic survival. Obi-Wan, feeling guilty for disrupting his master’s routine, joined him. Since then they had both found great amounts of peace in moments where they shared the work of cooking together. The routine lasted, even after Obi-Wan was cleared to be responsible for his own diet again.
The meal boxes are relatively new, though. Spending less time in the temple than most jedi makes it difficult to keep fresh ingredients. Obi-Wan had discovered them on the holo-net not long ago, and they had given it a shot. Now, the master and padawan duo are so fond of the kits that Obi-Wan is sure they’ll be taking some with them next time they leave on a mission. They may be more expensive than normal rations, but they are considerably more pleasant.
Obi-Wan washes his hands in hot water, quietly wincing at the pain of the heat on his cold hands, but carefully keeping his master's attention away from his problem. If he were a better jedi, he thinks, maybe he wouldn't have this problem. He puts these thoughts aside, and keeps cooking. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan have a pleasant meal, and Obi-Wan retires soon after.
He heads to bed fully clothed, unwilling to part with even the small amount of heat trapped within his tunics. As he bundles up in his meager blankets which don’t seem to do much, he wonders how long he can stand being so cold.
———— ———— ———— ———— ————
Obi-Wan misses his alarm.
Though he has no classes today, he is responsible for making breakfast in the morning before he and his master focus on whatever lesson Qui-Gon has planned. Today Qui-Gon was hoping to focus on saber-techniques, and then have a nice paired meditation in the room of a thousand fountains. He prepares breakfast quietly, allowing Obi-Wan a few minutes to wake up naturally.
When he finishes eating his portion, he reaches out to Obi-Wan through their bond gently. He's still asleep, but something feels wrong.
It isn’t like him to sleep in. Qui-Gon knocks on Obi-Wan’s door calling out for him quietly, and receives no answer. He pushes the door open, concern growing.
Obi-Wan is practically blue.
Qui-Gon kneels by his padawan, alarmed, and puts a hand on his forehead. His skin is cool to the touch, and Qui-Gon purses his lips, cursing himself internally. How had he missed this? His padawan is hypothermic, has been cold for who knows how long, and all of this while laying in his own bed!
He comms the healers, alarmed. Vokara Che responds, one of the only healers with enough skill to manage the stubborn duo. “Master Che, would you come to my quarters as soon as possible please? I believe my padawan is hypothermic, but how that happened while he was laying in bed all night I have no idea.”
He looks more closely at his padawan, and grimaces. “It looks like he went to bed fully robed, it is likely he has been feeling a chill for some time.”
“Give me ten minutes, Master Jinn. I will be there shortly. Do not move him, and refrain from touching him too much. He may be contagious.”
“Of course Master Che,” Qui-Gon responds, not moving his hand from where it is stroking through Obi-Wan’s hair, seemingly of its own accord. “I will see you soon.”