ARCHIVING: Corellia; my page; Master_Apprentice archive; anyone
else, ask please.
RATING: G
SUMMARY: Some days are good. Some suck. Sometimes, it's the
same day. NB: This is an AU story, inspired by Kayla's Plot
Bunny Challenge. Apologies if this posts more than once.
"Good morning, Master Qui... Gon...." The padawan's salutation
ground to a halt when he saw the condition of the Jedi Master.
Something in the older man's gaze warned him not to say
anything, though, and the young Rodian hurried off on his way.
Qui-Gon Jinn collected a breakfast tray in the meal hall, and
seated himself-- carefully-- at a table with several other
masters. Mace Windu, in the seat beside him, lifted an eyebrow.
The other masters waited; Windu would certainly ask what had
happened to his friend, thereby satisfying everyone's
curiosity.
"Good morning, Qui-Gon. Don't you usually eat in your
quarters?"
"Yes."
"That's quite a bruise," Windu said, sipping his tea.
"Yes," Qui-Gon agreed.
"Did something happen?"
"Yes."
"Should I mind my own business?
"Yes."
Repressing a smile, Windu returned to his breakfast. The
annoyingly calm, even-tempered Jinn was not looking his best.
His long hair, usually neatly combed and bound back, was
snarled and matted on the left side. A vivid bruise stood out
on his right cheekbone. And a large patch was missing from his
beard. The temptation to ask was strong; but Mace Windu had not
risen to Master status by risking his life indiscriminately.
Master Yan-L-yan seated itself across from Jinn, and lifted a
dorsal ridge in enquiry. "You have quite a bad bruise. Does it
hurt?"
"Yes."
"Did you walk into something?"
Before he could reply, they were interrupted. All the masters
set down their utensils, as Master Yoda approached. "Master
Qui-Gon, teach the beginner's class in Philsophy, you must.
Ill, the regular instructor is."
"Yes, my master."
"Master Qui-Gon?"
"Yes, my master?"
"Bad bruise, that is."
"Yes, my master."
"More careful, you should be."
"Yes, my master."
"Good morning, Masters."
"Good morning, Master Yoda," came the replies, as the Jedi
Master left.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and sighed. It was going to be an even
longer day than he'd feared.
When he opened the door to the classroom, a wall of noise
nearly drove him out again, and the sheer energy of the more
than forty children was already starting to make his head ache
with the effort of shielding. Not one of them was sitting
still, and most of them were standing by the long bank of
windows, watching the passing airships. Many of them had small
bags of juice, and not all of them were very careful with them,
as a wet spot or two on the tile floor showed.
A small Svivren student saw him first, and within minutes, the
noisy, chaotic group of children were seated and silent. Forty
sets of eyes were fixed on him; forty sets of ears ready to
listen.
"Good morning, students."
"Good morning, Master Qui-Gon," they replied, in chorus,
eagerly.
He gazed out the window for a moment, as if to collect his
thoughts, timing it. Almost to himself, he said, "What is the
Jedi Code?"
As one, the class recited: "There is no emotion, there is
peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no
passion, there is serenity. There is no death, there is the
force."
"What does that mean, Master Qui-Gon?" asked a young human boy,
sitting in the front row. Qui-Gon didn't recognise him; but he
had been gone for some months.
"Which part...?" Qui-Gon asked, waiting for the boy to supply
his name.
The boy blushed slightly, and stood, and bowed. "Obi-Wan
Kenobi, sir. All of it, sir."
"What does it mean to you, Obi-Wan?"
The boy blushed more strongly, now, on the spot. Qui-Gon sensed
waves of sympathy coming from some of the other students.
"We... we shouldn't let our emotions control us. But we
shouldn't be afraid of them, either. We shouldn't let what--
what we don't know make us feel bad, and we should try to
learn. We shouldn't... uh... be afraid of death, because we
just go back to the Force."
"Very good."
The boy smiled.
"But what does it mean to you, Obi-Wan Kenobi?"
The boy blushed yet again, even more brightly. Qui-Gon turned
his attention to the class as a whole, slowly pacing in front
of them as he spoke. "All of you must learn more than the Code.
You must learn what it is to you-- what it truly means to you,
in your heart, in your soul. The Code of the Jedi is more than
words and tradition. It is the defining purpose of our lives."
The eyes of the children followed him, intently, fascinated by
the Master, who was known to all of them by sight and by story.
The great Qui-Gon Jinn, finest swordsman of the Jedi, trained
by Master Yoda himself, defender of the innocent, scourge of
the wrong-doer...
...sprawling on his back, staring at the ceiling.
"Are you all right, Master Qui-Gon?" asked the timid voice of
one of the Shistavanen.
"Yes, young student." Slowly, he sat up. His downfall, he was
unsurprised to see, had been one of the puddles of juice. All
around him, he sensed young minds, wanting very, very much to
laugh, but too polite to actually do it.
Gathering his dignity, he stood with one smooth, flowing
movement that silenced even the mental giggling, replacing it
with awe.
The remainder of the class went fairly smoothly, he thought.
Sure, he'd caught a fold of his robe on a desk, and nearly
toppled it and its occupant; and walked into the edge of the
instructor's desk and added another bruise to his collection;
but all things considered, it could have been worse. He
resisted the urge to rub his posterior, where no doubt an even
more impressive bruise had formed.
And worst of all-- Force help him-- it wasn't even noon,
yet....
Reluctantly, he returned to his quarters within the Temple. He
was relieved to find that the air circulators had got rid of
the worst of the burning smell. He shed his outer robe, and
moved to the bathing chamber. Once inside, he faced his
reflection in the mirror, grimly. He lifted a comb.
A listener in the outer room might have thought the master was
fighting a fierce battle against an inexorable enemy. The
muffled expletives, occasional thump, and heavy breathing
certainly suggested it.
When he was finished, Qui-Gon regarded his reflection, and shut
his eyes, and counted to ten.
Then twenty.
Then fifty.
At one-hundred, his temper was securely back under control, and
he opened his eyes again.
The tangles were gone-- that was a mercy. However, the effort
expended to manage this had left the ends... poofy. He turned
his head to the side slightly. The view didn't improve in the
least. The right side was sleek and well-behaved. The left side
was... poofy. He bent over the sink. Perhaps, if I run water
over it....
The jet of scalding water that emerged from the tap was an
instant reply to that foolish idea. The Master bolted upright,
left side of his face stinging and reddening already. He forced
himself to calm down, breathing slowly and evenly through
clenched teeth.
I'll just wear the mess in a braid, he decided, and
proceeded to plait his hair. To his relief, it cooperated.
Now, a tie.... Holding the end of the thick braid in his
fingers, he looked for a thong. Nothing. There-- an elastic.
It promptly snapped. So did the second one. And the third.
Finally, he managed to secure his hair... although his dignity
was in distinct absence. He deliberately avoided his
reflection, this time, and stalked back out into the living
room. Part of him was tempted to simply go back to bed and hide
under the blankets. But the part of him that was optimistic
suggested that the day could hardly get any worse; and, it was
only his pride that was hurt. Jedi should be humble, after all.
"Right. Humble." Gathering his serenity and peace of mind
around him with an effort, he emerged from his quarters, ready
to face the afternoon. In the process, he nearly knocked over a
small boy.
He looked down.
The boy looked up. And up.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi, isn't it?" he asked, when it became obvious
the boy wasn't going to speak first.
"Yes, sir."
"Is there something I can do for you?"
"No, sir."
There was another pause. "Are you sure?"
"No, sir."
Another pause. Qui-Gon took a slow, cleansing breath. "Would
you like to walk with me?" he suggested.
The boy looked relieved. "Yes, sir, thank you."
They walked in silence for a moment. The boy spoke first, thank
the Force.
"Sir-- how did you know you were going to be a Jedi?"
So that's what's troubling him. "The Force told me, I
suppose; although I didn't know it at the time. I had thought I
would be a farmer."
"So did I," Obi-Wan admitted. "But when they brought me here...
I thought they had to know what they were doing. But, sir-- I
think...." He trailed off.
"You think, perhaps they were wrong about you."
Obi-Wan stopped, and stared. "Yes-- but how did you know that?"
"I think everyone who has ever trained here has felt that way,
at some point."
"Everyone? Even... even you?"
"Oh, yes. I couldn't seem to do anything right. I was too tall,
and too thin, and I fell over my own feet constantly. I ran
into people all the time, and I even knocked Master Yoda over,
once."
The boy's eyes were enormous. "You didn't!"
"I'm afraid so. It wasn't one of my better moments," the Jedi
admitted, still able to remember his embarrassment and horror.
"That must've been awful."
"It was. But I don't think that's your problem, is it?"
"No, sir. Nothing makes sense," he said, very quietly.
"Everyone else seems to understand the lessons. I'm the only
one who always has to ask a question before I get it. Sometimes
I still don't get it, even after I ask."
"And a Jedi should always know everything."
The boy nodded. Qui-Gon could feel the misery radiating from
him.
"Obi-Wan, have you ever been to the creche?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have you seen the very small children? The babies?"
"Yes, sir." He looked puzzled.
"Then you've seen the way they learn to walk right away. The
moment they learn to stand, they know how to walk, how to run."
"But-- but--"
"Yes, Obi-Wan?"
"That isn't how it happens, at all!" the boy burst out, then
reddened yet again. "I mean-- I'm sorry, sir, but that isn't
how it happens."
"It isn't?"
"No, sir. They have to learn to... oh."
"They have to learn to what?"
"To walk. They take little steps, and then bigger steps."
"And?"
"And? And... and sometimes, they fall down."
They were both quiet for a while, as they continued their walk.
"I think I understand, sir."
"Do you? Good."
"I guess I better go. I have class soon."
"On your way, then. Obi-Wan?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Keep asking questions." With his best enigmatic smile, Qui-Gon
strode away, down the hall, around the corner, his robe
billowing out around him in approved Jedi Master style.
Obi-Wan watched him go, eyes wide with hero-worship. He slowly
turned, and headed to class, head full of new ideas.
As he strode off, Qui-Gon's mind was elsewhere, until--
"Slow down, you should," a voice said, from below him. The
somewhat testy voice, of a somewhat testy Jedi Master.
"Oh. Oh, damn. May I help you up, sir?"
"Get up by myself, I can! Not that old, I am."
"Yes, sir. No, sir. Of course not, sir."
"Why in such a hurry, are you?"
"I was... Master, may we speak? I have a question for you...."
"Ask, then. Getting any younger, I am not."
"I'm not really comfortable talking to the children about the
Code," he had admitted. "That conversation with young
Kenobi...."
"Take a padawan, you will?"
"Yes, master, someday."
"Teach him, you will?"
"Yes, master."
"Then comfortable you must become."
"Yes, master-- but how?"
"A Jedi you are. The Code, you live."
"Yes, master. But that doesn't mean I know how to teach it."
"But teach it you must."
"Yes, my master," he had said, finally giving up.
He saw his friend a few yards ahead; Windu, sensing him,
turned, smiling. It was a smile Qui-Gon knew he ought not to
trust. The last time he had seen that smile, in fact, they had
both nearly got their robe-wearing butts kicked by a hostile
crowd....
"Qui-Gon," he said, smiling even more widely, "there you are."
"Here I am," he agreed, warily.
Windu handed him a towel. "Congratulations. Your shift begins
in fifteen minutes."
Qui-Gon regarded him blankly. "My shift...." He looked at the
towel, and light dawned. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no."
"Sorry, my friend. It's almost time for Free Swim in the
children's pool. They need another instructor."
"You mean referee," Qui-Gon rumbled. He remembered the last
time he'd got roped into this particular duty.
"Taun-taun, tahn-tahn," Windu shrugged.
Depa Billaba paused beside them both. "Ah, Master Windu."
He bowed slightly. "Master Billaba. May I do something for
you?"
"Yes-- I've just been told that Master Kassil has been called
away. We need another master for Free Swim."
Windu's face fell. Qui-Gon repressed a smirk. Payback's a
bantha, isn't it, my friend?
Ten minutes later, the two of them and Yan-L-Yan waited in the
changing room. They were each wearing shower shoes, swimming
trunks, and expressions of deep dismay.
"We really should go out," Yan-L said.
"Absolutely," Windu agreed.
"Certainly," Qui-Gon nodded.
Five minutes later, they were still standing there.
"So. We should be going," Qui-Gon said.
"Right now," Yan-L agreed.
"On our way," Windu nodded.
Three minutes later, the door slammed open, and Master Dellan
stalked in, followed by her padawan, and another Master Qui-Gon
didn't know.. "You three. Out there. Now. The next group is
arriving."
Meekly, the Jedi Masters did as they were ordered.
Five minutes later, Qui-Gon found himself facing twelve eager,
bright, and smiling faces. He recognised several from the
morning class, in fact. Somehow, he was not surprised to see
that Obi-Wan was one of 'his' students. He snuck a peek into
the next lane. Mace seemed to be doing well with his group.
Yan-L was hitting it off well with his children.
He looked back at his students. Twelve sets of eyes followed
his every move.
I should do some sort of training. Develop their Jedi...
something.
He looked at them. He got several very small, hesitant smiles.
He smiled back... and their smiles widened.
This is an excellent opportunity to teach them the ways of the
Jedi.
He raised his left hand roughly six inches above the water.
Twelve sets of eyes watched him. He opened it, palm down, flat.
He raised his right hand parallel, and positioned it in the
same fashion. They watched him intently. Without warning, he
brought both hands sharply down on the surface of the water,
creating-- with just a touch of the Force-- a satisfying wall
of water, drenching the class.
The water settled. Twelve thoroughly soaked students stared at
him. Twelve enormous sets of eyes were fixed on him.
And then, young Obi-Wan shrieked, "Water fight!!" and all Sith
broke loose.
Half an hour later, Qui-Gon was in the best mood he'd been in
all day... possibly, the best mood he'd been in in months.
Except for the kick in the groin, getting his hair yanked, and
getting poked in the eye, the session was going marvelously
well.
"Do it again! do it again!" a chorus of twelve voices shouted.
His group, he was pleased to note, was definitely the loudest
in the room.
Smiling widely [in fact, his face was beginning to hurt, with
all the smiling he'd done; and his sides were sore with
laughing], he exerted the Force, and a small child rose high
into the air. He stopped the girl when she was roughly ten
metres in the air; and then let her drop.
Shrieking with glee, she hit the water, sending water spraying
over everyone in the area.
"Do it again! do it again!"
Before he could comply, a very stern voice broke through the
commotion.
"Master Qui-Gon!"
Qui-Gon hunched his shoulders. He knew that tone. He turned.
Master Yoda stood, watching him.
Someone's in trouble, Windu sing-songed, through the Force, to
his friend.
He turned back to his class. "I think we're finished for the
day," he said.
"Yes, Master Qui-Gon," twelve voices chorused. Obediently, they
paddled to the ladder, and climbed out.
Young Kenobi paused at the side, almost eye-to-eye with the
Jedi Master. "We had lots of fun," he whispered, blushed, and
then hurried off.
Master Yoda made his way from the room. Dripping, head hanging,
Qui-Gon followed.
"Master Qui-Gon," Yoda began, then paused. Qui-Gon waited. Yoda
paced back and forth, then began again. "Master Qui-Gon. Drop
students from great heights into water you should not."
"No, my master."
"Amusing it may be, but do it you should not."
"Yes, my-- I mean, No, my master."
"Dignity masters must have."
"Yes, my master," Qui-Gon agreed. Several padawan learners
passed them, as they stood in the hall. They looked at him,
then at each other, then, repressing snickers, hurried on their
way.
"Bad day you are having?"
"I've had better, my master." Then, recalling the Free Swim, he
smiled slightly. "But I've had worse."
"Glad to hear it, I am. Go home."
"Sir?"
"Go home. Tired you are. Rest you require, my friend."
"Yes, my master. Thank you."
Yoda turned and began to shuffle off. Without turning, he
added, "Do something with your hair, you must. All poofy at the
ends, it is."
Qui-Gon, who had turned to leave, himself, paused, and leaned
his forehead against the wall. He counted to ten. Almost a
millenia old, and he still can't resist a cheap shot.
The Jedi Master stood at the balcony railing, watching the
unceasing pattern of airships across the skyline. Qui-Gon
himself preferred nature to artifice; but he could see the
beauty in it, nonetheless. He sensed a presence, moving up
behind him. He didn't need to look to see who it was.
Young Obi-Wan stepped up on the lower railing, which just let
him wrap his arms around the top rail. They stood, watching as
the sunset sky turned to darkness. The boy spoke first. "I'm
going to be on one of those ships, some day."
"Are you?"
"Uh-huh. When I get to be a padawan. I'm going to go to all the
stars in the sky."
"That's going to take you quite a while."
"Master Scirresel says we have all the time in the world."
"So you do."
There was another long silence, again broken by the boy. "One
day last week was just awful. I dropped my breakfast tray
and my dinner tray. I fell down in the exercise room. I
broke the model speeder I was building. I forgot to do my
history homework, so I had to stay after class."
"That's a pretty bad day," the Master agreed.
"Tell me about it," Obi-Wan replied, in a world-weary tone.
"But after dinner, my friend Lesandre split a kasabafruit with
me. He told me a joke, too. Wanna hear it?"
"Certainly."
"Okay. How do you catch a unique womp-rat?"
"Hmmm. I don't know. How?"
"Unique up on it."
Qui-Gon took a moment to process this, then smiled. "Very
clever. And that helped-- the joke, and the fruit?"
"Kinda... but having someone on my side really helped. That's
what Jedi do. Help people. Help each other."
"Very true."
They watched as more stars began to appear, clear even over the
lights of the city.
"You'd best be getting to bed, Obi-Wan."
"Yes, sir." Obedient, the boy hopped down from the rail.
"I'll walk back with you," Qui-Gon added, following an impulse.
The child's eyes widened.
"You don't have to do that, sir--"
"I'd like to."
Obi-Wan smiled. "Yes, sir. Thank you."
The tall man and the small boy left the balcony, and walked
down the corridor of the Jedi Temple together.
"There's another part to the joke, Master Qui-Gon."
"And what's that?"
"How do you catch a tame womp-rat?"
"I don't know. How?"
"Tame way."
The low chuckle of the man, and the higher giggle of the boy,
were the only sounds in the quiet corridor.
And overhead, the stars rose, and the airships flew, and life
went on, much as usual, in the city, and in the Temple.
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