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Archive: At M/A and Till Human Voices Wake Us; others, please
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Rating: PG-13
Category: A/U, gratuitous Angst
Summary: Qui-Gon has survived Naboo (there's an idea!). Now
what? Sequel to "Ingratitude."
Spoilers: Maybe for TPM?
Disclaimer: At the end of all things, no one will care who
owned them.
Warnings: None. Reading my fiction will make your bones
stronger and heighten your body's Vitamin C content. Also, I
love beating up on Qui-Gon, but he deserves it.
A sequel...because you demanded it!! Well, okay, nobody
*demanded* anything, but I think two people asked nicely.
It had taken him two weeks, but Qui-Gon was out of the bacta
and ready to return to his quarters. Anakin and Obi-Wan would,
he was sure, be waiting for him there and he allowed himself a
secret smile as he thought how pleased they would all be to be
together again, how nice life would be from now on, now that
they could finally get down to business.
Obi-Wan had promised him to train Anakin when Qui-Gon had
believed himself dying, and when that had turned
out--thankfully--to not be the case, he'd informed the healers
he would take care of the preliminaries while his former Master
recovered. Mace Windu, apparently, had volunteered to help him.
Former Master. Obi-Wan been Knighted while Qui-Gon had been
suspended in the gooey healing syrup, and that sat ill with the
Jedi Master. He'd hoped they would wait for him to cut the
braid off himself, or at least until he could have attended the
ceremony, even in a bed if he'd had to. It was his right. But
somebody...he couldn't remember who, he'd been a bit confused
for a while...had explained to him that it was all for the
best, and in his wounded, befuddled state it had seemed
perfectly reasonable. He supposed he must have consented. How
had Obi-Wan felt about it, he wondered briefly, before he
looked up and realized he'd arrived at his door.
Smiling ruefully at his remaining confusion, he palmed the
door open and entered the warm, familiar rooms. Even warmer
than he'd remembered, he realized with a faint gasp, and
immediately shrugged off the heavy cloak. The room was close to
sweltering.
"Master Qui-Gon! You're back!"
Anakin. Of course. Warmer quarters would only make sense for a
desert-raised boy. "Hullo, Ani," he greeted cheerfully. "Good
to see you."
"I didn't know you were coming back! Nobody called us or
anything!" Anakin seemed about to pop with excitement, hurrying
to hang up the cloak like a proper Padawan and almost tripping
over it. "We were gonna come see you tonight..."
Qui-Gon chuckled and sat down on the sofa, noticing another
young boy in the room. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure?"
The small, dark boy, vaguely reminiscent of Anakin's friend
Kittster from Tatooine, smiled shyly at him. "Oh, this is
Cherron," Anakin said expansively. "Me and him are building a
model for our physics class. Oh, I wasn't gonna show it to you
till it was done..."
"'He and I are building,'" Qui-Gon corrected absently,
scanning the rest of their quarters. "That's fine, Ani, you can
surprise me if you like. Just remember to ask if you need help.
Where is Obi-Wan?" It was odd that his former student wasn't
here, or at least hadn't made an appearance yet, especially
with two nine-year-olds on the loose.
He glanced back to find that Anakin's nose had wrinkled
slightly. "Master Windu said he needed to talk about something,
so they went to have dinner together. But look! They said me
and Cherron...uh, Cherron and I could make sandwiches and have
dinner together all by ourselves if we were neat and cleaned it
all up later. The sandwiches are wizard good, too. We have a
couple left if you're hungry."
Hungry. Yes, he was, now that he thought about it. "That would
be nice, thank you, Anakin. Is there any of that red juice?"
"A little, yeah. Let me go get it." Anakin zipped into the
kitchen, followed by Cherron, who smiled again at the Jedi
Master.
Qui-Gon was surprised at the depth of his disappointment, and
more than a little curious over what Windu wanted to talk to
his former apprentice about. Perhaps, now that Qui-Gon was
recovered, the Council wanted to send Obi-Wan on missions. That
didn't sit well at all. Though he didn't like it, Qui-Gon was
getting older every day, and he found that he wanted his loved
ones around him. At the moment they consisted mainly of Anakin
and certainly Obi-Wan. He did not wish to be alone. His brush
with death, if it had done anything, had cemented that reality
in his mind.
Life without Obi-Wan? What a...disturbing prospect. He now had
trouble remembering when Obi-Wan had not been by his side, both
as apprentice and friend. A good friend at that. They'd gotten
each other out of so many scrapes...he wanted for them to keep
working together. Wanted it with an urgency that amazed him and
that he did not altogether care to examine. Maybe they could
even train Anakin jointly. Surely Obi-Wan and the boy had
formed some kind of bond during the last two weeks. That would
make it feasible.
And if this truly was the Chosen One, wouldn't he need all the
help he could get? Who better to help him than his Obi-Wan?
A sandwich was pressed into his hand, distracting him. There
was something wet and squishy between the pieces of bread, and
it was leaking out onto his palm.
"It's rhubarb and squishkish," Anakin informed him proudly,
Cherron standing quietly behind him. Qui-Gon wondered if the
other boy ever spoke at all. "Cherron likes his with that berry
syrup we have. Want me to get some?"
Qui-Gon mentally added the taste of the syrup to that of mixed
rhubarb and squishkish, and decided that no convalescent should
be forced to endure such barbarity. Maybe he could bring a
motion before the Senate. Out loud he said, "No, thank you,
Anakin. This will be fine." Rhubarb juice dripped onto his
knee. "Um, could I have a plate?"
It was now well into the night cycle, and Qui-Gon was feeling
distinctly out-of-sorts. Sulky was the word, and perhaps a
little worried, as well. Obi-Wan had not returned yet from his
meeting with Windu. Perhaps it was a mission briefing after
all, a very involved and confidential one. They often took
hours. Qui-Gon shivered. Obi-Wan was extremely able, of course,
the best apprentice he'd ever had. Still, he found he did not
want his erstwhile companion going off on any dangerous jaunts,
and certainly not without him.
*As if you'd be any help to him now,* his inner voice jeered,
*half-broken as you are.*
Well, that was true. And Obi-Wan was capable, he'd said as
much to the Council himself on that fateful day he'd claimed
Anakin as his new Padawan. But damnit, he hadn't meant they
should shove the boy off into some hellpit without so much as
a...what? A by-your-leave-Master-Jinn? He was no longer
Obi-Wan's Master. And he seemed to be having an inordinate
amount of trouble dealing with that. How very strange.
He was making his way down the shadowed, empty corridors to
the meditation gardens. His bootsteps sounded unnaturally loud,
and he could feel the weakness from his recovery catching up to
him. It would be such a relief, such a pleasure, to sit among
the acacia trees and let the living Force of the plants flow
through him...
After what felt like a very long time, he reached the doors to
the garden, feeling the weakness in his legs and cursing it.
That damned sandwich must have sapped his energy. It had taken
two glasses of juice to wash the salty-sweet taste out of his
mouth, and he'd had to pretend he liked it. How could
children possibly consume that sort of thing with such relish?
Qui-Gon was fairly sure he would never have eaten such a
thing as a child...although there had been his unnatural
fondness for sour mati bread that had driven Yoda crazy for a
year or so...but still.
The door opened and he sighed with pleasure as he felt the
cool air from the garden hit his face. He closed his eyes for a
moment, stepping into the warm wet earth and feeling his boots
sink slightly, abandoning himself to the moment. He could feel
the Force in its impossibly thick, entangled web as it vibrated
among the plants, the small animals, the ground itself. Opening
them again, he got a view of the night sky of Coruscant; it was
impossible to see the stars with so much light interference,
but nevertheless he could feel them out there, pulsing with an
immense Force-energy all their own. He could reach out, if he
wanted, to stars that sent light from 10,000 years of travel
away, and know which ones still lived and glowed, and which
ones were smoldering husks, or less than husks.
Without paying much attention, eyes moving slowly from one
treasured sight to another, Qui-Gon made his way to his
favorite spot. The route was as familiar to him as breathing by
now. Closing his eyes again he sank into a meditative trance as
he lowered himself to kneel on the ground, feeling the dampness
of the earth seeping into his leggings and not caring a bit.
Yes; this was good, this was right. This was what he needed. He
forgot trouble in all its incarnations for a moment as he
tilted his head back, breathed deeply and let the living Force
sweep through every level of his being. *I love you,* he
whispered to the unhearing Force, *I love you.*
There was no reply, and oddly, Qui-Gon felt no measure of
peace descend upon him in return for his devotion. He found it
strange, but chalked it up to his injuries; he probably just
wasn't able to reach out and sense anything well enough yet.
Sometimes his head felt stuffed with wool.
He spent a few more pleasurable minutes just sitting there and
letting his mind drift as the currents of Force soothed his
ailing body. Why hadn't the blasted healers let him out
earlier, he mused. This would have done him so much more good
than just bobbing up and down in a bacta tank. There was no
replacement for this.
Reluctantly, he came back to himself, knowing he needed sleep
now, and it would be best to go before he got too tired to
return to his room. Wouldn't that be just grand, having to call
Obi-Wan to assist his injured Master back to his own room from
the gardens?
...Obi-Wan. He'd managed to forget about his faint hurt and
puzzlement but now it came rushing back to him and he opened
his eyes.
Only to find Mace Windu sitting perhaps five feet across from
him, with an icy cold expression on his face.
Surprised, both at the man's presence and his apparent
displeasure, Qui-Gon blinked. He wasn't really up to much more
than that. "Mace?"
"You're better."
"Well, yes." Qui-Gon wasn't sure whether he should thank Windu
for his concern, or what. The other man didn't sound exactly
solicitous.
"Seen Obi-Wan yet?"
"No," Qui-Gon replied, surprised. "I was told he was with you,
in a meeting."
"Having dinner," Windu corrected rather pointedly. "We had
dinner."
Qui-Gon wasn't so sure why that made him a bit angry, but it
did. He quashed it successfully and again turned to the night
sky for peace. It really was lovely out here. "Dinner then. But
I assume it was over a business matter?"
"Why, pray tell, would you assume that?"
This was starting to get on his nerves. "My pada--Obi-Wan has
never been in the habit of dining casually with Council members
before, Mace. I find it surprising that he should do so now."
"He's a knight now, after all," Windu said. "Free to eat with
whomever he chooses, I should think."
That did it. "Did I say differently?" Qui-Gon snapped. "What
the hell is wrong with you tonight, anyway? I haven't seen you
so angry with me since I got the Altair mission and you
didn't." Oh, that had been a low blow, and unworthy of a Jedi.
Qui-Gon immediately felt a flash of shame.
He opened his mouth to apologize, but Mace waved his dark
hand, made even darker in the shadows, and cut him off. "I am
angry at you, Qui-Gon. I've never suffered fools very well.
Forgive me if it's that obvious." His voice was bitter.
"Fools? And in what way am I a fool this time, Mace? If this
is about Anakin again--"
"Yes, it's about Anakin. And a host of other things; but
mostly it's about Obi-Wan Kenobi."
"What? You're talking in riddles, damnit. If you have a
problem with my apprentice--"
"He's NOT your apprentice!" Mace roared, rising to his knees
in a single swift motion. That gave him the slightest edge of
height over the bigger man, and he obviously intended to use
it. "In fact, I'm not sure he ever was!"
"He--what? Have you lost your mind?" Qui-Gon snapped.
"No. Unlike you, I have retained control of my mental
faculties. For example: if someone dropped a priceless treasure
in my lap, I would like to think that I'd have the sense to
keep it and take care of it, not cast it off into the nearest
garbage bin. You? I'm not so sure about you, Qui-Gon Jinn."
Shocked now, and seriously wondering if Mace was unwell,
Qui-Gon rocked back onto his heels. "Mace," he began, "I don't
follow, are you sure you're all..."
"Obi-Wan Kenobi is the brightest hope this Order has seen in
over a generation. May I say that his capability surpasses even
that of your last spectacular failure, Xanatos."
He couldn't believe this. He just couldn't believe it. Mace
Windu, cold Windu, couldn't really be saying these things to
him. "How dare you," he rasped. "How dare you make any
comparison--how dare you even imply--"
"I'm comparing nothing! I'm trying to tell you what that man
is worth! He's priceless!"
"I know that!" Qui-Gon shouted, getting more and more angry,
and feeling the small reserve of peace he'd gained in the
garden evaporating completely. "I value Obi-Wan most highly."
"Is that so? Well, he doesn't value you."
Qui-Gon blinked again, and he was aware that the blood was
slowly draining out of his face. His limited sense of
prescience was telling him that this conversation was only
going to get worse. "You're acting irrationally, Mace. I
suggest you--"
"Not until I tell you something, you sanctimonious bastard."
Mace's voice had dropped to a low, vicious hiss that gave
Qui-Gon chills. "He asked the Council to Knight him. Without
you. He didn't want you there. Not that any of us could blame
him."
Windu was crazy. He had to be. He was also emitting a level of
sheer rage and frustration that Qui-Gon was amazed didn't level
the Temple. The Dark Side seemed to swirl around them in
suffocating, deadly eddies, and..."You're lying," he whispered.
"Why would I lie? Check the Council transcripts. I've
memorized his wording, practically. 'Respected members of the
Council, I would rather have my Knighting ceremony now, if you
will agree. My Master's presence would be too painful as well
as, I believe, something of a sham.' A sham, Qui-Gon."
Surely someone had to feel the anger pouring from this place.
They would come to investigate and then he could leave, tell
them to get Windu to the healers and run from these vitriolic
words, make Obi-Wan tell him how all of this was so untrue.
"That's a lie. Obi-Wan would have no reason...why would he
ever..."
"Normally," Mace interrupted as if Qui-Gon had not spoken, "we
would never agree to such a request. But we were all there,
before. We all saw how you treated him. Threw him into the
garbage, just like I said." Windu's dark eyes were fairly
glowing now.
It all revealed itself with horrible, crystal clarity.
In the Council chamber, taking Anakin as Padawan, Obi-Wan's
shocked look...but no, his Padawan had leapt to his defense
before the very Council itself, had supported him and
volunteered to take the Trials. This couldn't be right. One
stupid misstep like that couldn't ruin twelve years of
friendship, could it?
His shields were faltering.
Mace heard all of it.
"Friendship?" he barked in a disbelieving laugh. "You think
Obi-Wan feels friendship for you?" All at once the
Council member's ire seemed to deflate. He took a deep breath
and, like the Master he was, appeared to achieve equilibrium
while Qui-Gon still reeled. "You know, I was angry. Furious, in
fact. But now I see I have a chance. Also, now I pity you.
Doomed to live out life as stupid and ignorant as you are."
He was going to strangle Windu. He really was. As soon as his
arms found the strength...
Windu shook his head. "Obi-Wan spent twelve years waiting to
be sent away by you, Qui-Gon. Waiting to be rejected. I don't
remember ever seeing you smile at him, or encourage him during
practice, or anything. Somehow I doubt you did it all
off-planet on missions, hmm?"
Qui-Gon was too angry to speak. Perhaps the Dark Side had
never been closer. The bastard dared to speak this way about
his relationship with Obi-Wan...?
"I love Obi-Wan," he managed, his voice sounding as if he
hadn't used it in years, scratchy and raw and effortful.
"You...you don't know anything. You..." his throat closed again
and the rage shook him hard.
"I do know one thing. Yoda thought one of you would die on
that mission."
"...What?"
Mace nodded, now looking for all the world like a serene
Council member, except for the tributaries of sweat still
making their salty way down his face and throat. "He wasn't
sure. It wasn't a strong enough feeling to keep you from going.
But he had an idea that both of you might not be coming back. I
hoped you would be the one to die, Qui-Gon."
Some part of Qui-Gon's mind realized that shock and anger
could really fit quite well together. "You're saying he
thought...? And still sent us--but, but which one did he
think--"
"He didn't say. I just had my hopes."
In spite of everything, Qui-Gon found himself fervently hoping
that Mace was right. For Yoda to have knowingly sent him into
danger, he could accept that, he was a Master...but for Yoda to
have sent Obi-Wan to such a possible death...
It appeared there were a lot of Councilmembers on his death
list this evening.
He suddenly felt very, very tired.
"Are there any more shattering revelations you'd like to make
tonight, Mace?" he asked wearily. "Surely you've run through
the whole list? Because frankly I'd like to go to bed now." *I
can always kill you in the morning. Or at least have you put in
a straitjacket. Bastard.*
"Just one," Mace said, too casually. "I asked him if he'd like
to form a soul-bond with me, tonight at dinner."
Somehow, that was worse than all the other ones put together.
"Pardon?" he asked weakly. Perhaps he'd heard wrong. Unlikely,
though.
"Don't worry. He said no." The anger was beginning to
resurface in Mace. "It seems he loves someone else, in a
classic variation on a well-worn plot. Beautiful young thing
spurns devoted, deserving suitor for utter cad who doesn't give
a damn."
Two suitors? There were *two* men after his Obi-Wan? What the
hell was this? He'd heard nothing about this. Third person to
kill. Maybe he should hire somebody to do it. "Who?" he asked
through dry lips.
Mace just stared at him for a second, and then laughed. "I was
right. I don't think I have anything to worry about. Don't
worry, Qui-Gon. You'll probably see more of me around in
future. I'm persistent."
And then the second realization came. With it, a fresh burst
of rage.
Mace Windu stood up to leave. "Goodnight, Qui-Gon. Good luck
to you training Anakin--you appear to have learned from some of
your mistakes, at least. Be nice to him. He might grow up to be
very good-looking, after all." Some fussy rearranging of his
robes while Qui-Gon gaped in helpless fury. "I'll take an
optimistic view," he murmured. "Obi-Wan's infatuation can't
possibly last that long. And I'll be waiting."
A flash of white teeth, almost obscene in the gathering
darkness, and the younger Master was gone.
In the following moments, Qui-Gon Jinn hated. He hated Mace
Windu with everything that was in him, and if he had possessed
the strength he might well have followed the other man and
killed him. More than Xanatos, more than the Sith monstrosity
on Naboo who'd nearly killed him, more than any enemy he had
ever faced. Windu wanted Obi-Wan...
And Qui-Gon? Himself? How did he feel?
Closing his eyes, Qui-Gon looked into the Darkness. The
Darkness looked back.
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