quigonejinn | Burial.

One of the few standard training exercises that Qui-Gon subscribed to and valued was repeated discussion of death and injury: he did not like to be argued with, nor did he enjoy extended philosophical inquiry, but he had no objections to cold, hard discipline. It was an exercise to conquer fear; he began at the prescribed age of nine and the exercises continued, growing in difficulty and clinicism, until he felt that Obi-Wan had achieved the proper attitude towards death.

"What do you imagine death to be like?"

Or.

"What are the proper procedures for my burial when I am dead?"

Assigned reading was not to be quoted. Obi-Wan usually had to fight the urge to quote and analyze, and the struggle showed on his face. If Qui-Gon was in a temper where he was tolerant of being amused, he would smile a little. If not, he would continue with that faint, slightly expectant expression.

Qui-Gon had Obi-Wan do the exercises once or twice a year, and once, when Obi-Wan was fifteen, Qui-Gon returned in a particularly vexed state from a Council meeting. He set himself to dissembling his lightsaber, meticulously cleaning the components down to the individual circuit boards, and re-assembling them under a magnifying lens with nano-tools. It had always been Qui-Gon's least favorite chore, and Obi-Wan was, in fact, surprised to see Qui-Gon going directly to it and with such concentration.

Finally, after an hour of this, Qui-Gon raised his head from the screen and spoke. "Obi-Wan," he said. "What should you do if I lived to a ripe old age and became senile, outliving my wits and usefulness?"

Obi-Wan looked up from his studies and stared. After some period, Qui-Gon smiled, faintly, and they went back to their respective tasks.

And that was all the comment Qui-Gon ever made about Dooku.

Burial.

OMG!