AN: Alright guys, this bug bit me and I HAD to write it. Don't get worried and allow me to explain. No, I haven't abandoned any of my other work. From Flames, I Soar is still my priority. This little thing here is really just my bit on the side. Because sometimes, you just gotta write a fun, adventure romp when people aren't getting raped with lightsabers and trauma. Not to say that won't happen here, but it won't be as often.

These chapters will be shorter than my other works, so it will be easier to update, though I may not update as often. I do plan on getting the first proper chapter up sometime this weekend after I update From Flames, I Soar, so look out for that, kids.

For all of my old readers, I think a lot of you will really like this one. For my new lovelies, welcome! None of my previous works are required reading to fully enjoy this, which is honestly something I can't say all that often. And I sincerely hope that you do enjoy this. Let me know what you think, kids! You know I love hearing from you. Feel free to contact me any time with thoughts/questions/discussions/generic yelling about how I ruined your lives. Again. I already said I'm sorry, jeeze...

But I'm totally not sorry.

Prologue

Qui-Gon Jinn stared down at the bodies of Jedi Knight Kit Fisto and his Mon Calamari Padawan, Bant Eerin, his chest tight with grief that he didn't bother to keep concealed. A deep, charred cut was drawn through the Nautolan's neck, his head nearly severed, and two long, crossing slashes burned through Bant's slender body. Lightsaber wounds, instantly fatal, no doubt caused by the creature that he had engaged on Tatooine a few days earlier. He had returned to Coruscant and called it Sith before the Jedi Council, but as usual, they didn't listen, the matter forgotten in the light of the much more immediate, tangible issue that Qui-Gon presented to them.

Anakin Skywalker.

The nearly ten year old boy possessed a potential that could rival some of the greatest Masters of the Order, and from the moment he met him, Qui-Gon knew that the Force had delivered him to Tatooine that day to find this boy. The whole mess with the Queen Amidala could have been solved anywhere, but they had landed on Tatooine, just miles outside Mos Espa, the city in which a slave boy and his mother, owned by a greedy Toydarian, lived and worked under the blistering suns, oblivious to the weight of the power within the young boy. It was far too convenient to be a coincidence, and Qui-Gon had never believed in the anyway. This was the will of the Force, and he had always followed it, the rules be damned.

As expected, the Jedi were none too happy about the Master dragging the child back to the Temple and demanding he be trained. He was too old, too scared, too attached and sentimental, already touched by the harshness of the galaxy which made shaping him to fit the Jedi mold a near impossibility. There was darkness in Anakin Skywalker, and it frightened the Masters enough that the matter took precedence over the fact that Qui-Gon had encountered a possible Sith Lord out in the desert. They forbid Anakin from undergoing training, and in his vast irritation, his stubborn defiance rose to the forefront and he told the Masters on the Council to put their rules and restrictions up their stodgy asses.

He would train Anakin Skywalker. And there wasn't a damn thing any of them could do about it. Forbidding Qui-Gon from doing what he believed in was as pointless as trying to make the Masters see his point of view.

With a new Padawan under his wing, Qui-Gon recused himself from his duty to protect Queen Amidala, as his new duty as Master to a young child would have seen him as both reckless and highly irresponsible for bringing young Skywalker to a war zone, the hostilities between the Republic and the Trade Federation guaranteeing that the Invasion of Naboo would end in significant bloodshed. In his place, the Jedi Council had appointed Kit Fisto and his Padawan to the protection of the Queen, one that would very likely be Bant's last before she was to undergo the trials and be elevated to the rank of Jedi Knight.

The Battle of Naboo had been won, though the casualties had been extraordinarily high, over half the native Gungan population exterminated in the fields where they met the Trade Federation's Droid Army before Gregar Typho, a young pilot serving Queen Amidala, led his squadron in an attack run of the Federation's control ship and destroyed it. Though most of the fighters were killed in action, the droid army became inactive without the ship relays to control them, and with the young Queen leading the infiltration of her own Palace in Theed, the Federation leaders were captured, and the battle was won.

But the creature from the desert had been there. A fearsome red and black Zabrak, small in stature but fast and athletic and soaked in the Dark Side, a Sith, if not an assassin, and in the aftermath of the battle, Kit Fisto and Bant Eerin were found dead deep in the massive reaction chambers of the palace, and their Sith slayer was nowhere to be found.

Their deaths struck everyone hard, but Qui-Gon felt it much more keenly than many others. Bant had been the Padawan of the Jedi Master Tahl, his close, dear friend and the woman he loved deeply for many, many years until her murder. Qui-Gon found himself prey to the Dark Side at her loss, grief and the need for revenge dragging him down into the depth of darkness until he was stopped mere moments before he embraced his rage and murdered the defenseless criminal that ended her life. Tahl left behind a Padawan, young and grief-stricken by her Master's loss, and the recently Knighted Kit Fisto had taken her on as his own, uncertain in his ability to teach her, but willing to do the best for the girl.

And now they were both dead. The smiling Nautolan and the last living connection to Jedi Master Tahl.

A part of Qui-Gon blamed himself for their deaths. They were young, promising, talented, and they had gone in his place. Had he not been with Anakin, Qui-Gon would have been with the Queen, would have very likely fought this Sith again, and if the fight in the desert was any indication, he would have likely been slain as well. But for as much as he blamed himself, he also blamed the Council, so short-sighted, so sure of themselves, so certain that their enemies had been exterminated and could never come back. The trade was hardly a fair one. His life for the lives of two promising Jedi, and all because the Council didn't have the wisdom to send their very best when there was a possible Sith involved. They didn't believe him, and they sent a Knight when they should have sent a Master, sent Kit Fisto when they should have sent Mace Windu. If they had, that Sith bastard would be dead, and the entire Jedi Order wouldn't be in mourning.

"I hear you have angered the Council," a rich, deep voice said from behind him, and Qui-Gon closed his eyes and smiled despite himself before he turned from the bodies and walked toward the older man in the doorway. "Such a rare thing for you to do, my impetuous student," Dooku said, a soft chuckle in his throat when Qui-Gon rolled his eyes.

"Come now, Master, you know I would never do anything to anger our wise Masters," Qui-Gon quipped, but the humor in his voice was flat and forced, his eyes drifting back to the bodies on the tables, his jaw tight with pain and anger.

"I heard you warned them," Dooku muttered softly, his large hand resting on the other Jedi's shoulder, the touch warm and sympathetic and comforting, though he did nothing to soothe the man's anger. "They are fools, Qui-Gon. Blind servants to a corrupt government. We have fallen so far in such a short time. I do not remember the Jedi Order being so in my youth. Master Yoda did not train me to sit idly by and watch as the galaxy slides into chaos. And now, this," he said gravely, gesturing to the two dead Jedi. "Jedi inaction and arrogance has led to the death of two of our own."

"I don't disagree with you, Dooku, you know that..." Qui-Gon groaned, rubbing his tired eyes and sighing as he turned from the bodies and passed by Dooku on his way out the door, the older Master falling into the slow step beside his former student. "We shouldn't be beholden to the Senate, it allows them to dictate the path we follow and the people we help when only the Force should guide us. I've done my best to follow the Living Force, Master, and it has only seen me ostracized." Qui-Gon sighed and shook his head, tucking a stray strand of his long hair behind his ear. "I don't know, if I was less...confrontational, perhaps they would listen to me when it matters."

"If you were less confrontational, Qui-Gon, not only would you no longer be yourself, but you'd likely be just as blind and foolish as the rest of them," Dooku grumbled under his breath. "There is so little left to keep me here," he said softly, his dark eyes roving around the high halls of the spacious corridors of the Jedi Temple. "I feel my heart has grown cold to the Jedi and the corruption they aid in spreading by serving the ineffectual Senate. But you..." he said more lightly this time. "You give me hope there may one day be more like you. Without you here, my friend, I'm certain the temptations of a life on Serenno would be far too great to resist."

"I'm surprised you haven't gone already..." Qui-Gon said with a wry smirk on his lips. "You don't do too much for the Order these days with all your political disagreements."

"You certainly cannot blame me, that travesty on Naboo should never have been allowed to occur," Dooku said strongly, his voice echoing slightly in the vast, empty halls. "This whole matter could have been avoided if the Jedi interfered in the conflict months ago," he said, his voice lowered this time.

"And now two Jedi are dead at the hands of the Sith..." Qui-Gon muttered, and Dooku grew silent, the echoing of their footsteps off the marble in the halls the only sound between them.

"Are you certain it was Sith?" Dooku finally asked, and Qui-Gon scoffed softly and shrugged his shoulders.

"Who can be certain of anything anymore. But I feel it, Master. Deep in the very core of me, I feel it. That creature was Sith. They've returned, if they've ever been gone at all."

"A disturbing turn of events..." Dooku mumbled, a slight smirk touching the corner of his lips that the other Jedi was quick to notice. "By the way, the Council summoned you to discuss the matter of the Sith, since you are the only one who has fought that beast and survived."

"They summoned me?" Qui-Gon asked, suspicion in his voice as he looked the Master. "I'd have thought they'd never want to see me again after our last argument. Master Yoda is very unhappy with me."

"So I heard..." Dooku said with a heavy sigh. "He was not shy about letting me know how dangerous your defiance is. I can't say it didn't please me, and I did tell him so. I trained my student to be a free thinker. One that is a pain in my ass as much as he is to everyone else."

"I always aim to please, Master," Qui-Gon said with a mocking bow, changing his course to walk down the hallway that would lead them toward the Council Chambers. "Do you suppose our wise Masters will still be in at this hour? When did they summon me?"

"Oh..." Dooku mused coyly, his eyes drifting toward the ceiling as he considered the question, though he clearly knew the answer. "Early this morning. But I figured you would have no desire to come when you are called."

"How very perceptive of you..."

"It is my understanding that the matter of the Sith was not your only point of contention with the Council the other day..." Dooku said slyly. "I was hoping to meet the child that captured your attention. It's good you are taking another Padawan, it has been a very long time since you have one."

"I've been hard-pressed to find another," Qui-Gon said with a shrug. "My last spoiled me. I fear he left my standards exceedingly high."

"Which makes me all the more keen on meeting him," Dooku said lightly. "I was hoping he'd be with you. Where is he?"

"Master Dooku, it is three in the morning, and like all good ten year olds, Anakin is sleeping," Qui-Gon said with a roll of his eyes. "As should you be. You're getting old."

"As are you, my friend."

"...I can't sleep, not since..." Qui-Gon gestured back toward the infirmary, and with a soft growl of frustration, he shook his head, his pace increasing as he strode toward the elevator. "If they just listened, this wouldn't have happened. Now we have a Sith Lord on our hands and no way to find him..." Qui-Gon said as he stepped into the elevator, the doors closing behind him and the older Master. "How many more of us need to die before the Jedi do something?"

"A great many more, I suspect," Dooku said sympathetically. "You know as well as I that our Masters will sit on their hands and discuss and debate in circles until the true threat is lost. Until other matters come to occupy them, and there are so many now with the troubles that now plague our galaxy. The Republic is corrupt, Qui-Gon. It poisons everything it touches, and the Jedi serve it."

"Not all Jedi follow the will of the Council."

"Which is precisely why I am still here..." Dooku drawled as the elevator opened, and the two men stepped out into the room, the large, heavy door of the Council Chamber before them. "You are training a boy said to be quite powerful, and I know you will train him right. Perhaps there is still hope for the Jedi."

"That is what I believe..." Qui-Gon said, a soft, gentle smile on his lips as he lay his hand on the door. "And if that wasn't enough, the prospect of training him is making the Masters soil their robes."

"Dangerous to train, too much fear and darkness in him already," Dooku droned with a roll of his eyes. "This from the very same Council that failed to sense the return of the Sith."

"My thoughts exactly."

Without another word, the two men pushed the door open and stepped into the Council Chamber, the dark room lit by nothing but moonlight and the bright lights of the city that surrounded them. The chairs that circled the room cast long shadows on the intricate patterns on the floor and the men took a moment for their eyes to adjust, the feel of peace that surrounded them informing them of the tremendous presence in the room with them before they saw him. Slowly, their eyes adjusted, and both the Masters looked at the same chair, and despite their discomfort and grievances with the Council, they both found themselves sighing in relief that he was still there.

"Late, you are, Qui-Gon," Yoda said in his soft, raspy voice, his feet clasped together, his hands on his knees and his eyes never opening.

"Dooku's getting old, Master," Qui-Gon explained with a smirk when he sensed the deep frown that spread on his former Master's face. "His joints ache. It took him until just now to hobble his way to me."

"I deeply regret telling you at all," Dooku droned. "It would have been so much more entertaining to watch the Council berate you for your insolence in the morning. Again. There's nothing like watching a Jedi Master get grounded for being petulant."

"Yes, all that aside, I needed time to get Anakin settled," Qui-Gon said carefully, watching the tiny Master's shoulders tense slightly under his robes. "And I was under the impression that such a meeting would be without point. The Masters made it very clear the other day that my opinion is to be disregarded. Is it not best that I save us all the frustration of not attending?"

"Valuable, your opinion is," Yoda said calmly, his big eyes opening and focusing on the two tall men. "Sith, you say, was your assailant on Tatooine. The same who killed Kit Fisto and Bant Eerin, it was. Believe this still, do you?"

"I do," Qui-Gon said firmly and without hesitation, drawing up taller as he looked at the Jedi Grandmaster. "With everything in my being, I know it was."

"Agree with you, the Council does," Yoda said after a moment's silence. "Returned, the Sith have."

"Finally!" Qui-Gon said with a sigh of relief. "So what are we going to do? How are we going to hunt this beast? He's killed two Jedi already, we'd be fools to believe he won't kill again."

"Agree on what to do, the Council does not," Yoda whispered, the tiny Master seeming tired and old, older than he had ever looked to Qui-Gon.

"This is hardly out of the ordinary, Master," Dooku grumbled, his arms crossed over his chest. "Even in the face of our ancient enemy, the Jedi do nothing. How long do you suppose these talks and debates will go on for? If the Sith goes to ground, how long before we decide that it was an isolated incident because it is easier and less frightening to believe that we are safe."

"Powerful, this Sith is," Yoda said softly, reaching for his stick and sliding off the chair to hobble closer to the towering men. "Cautious, we must be."

"With all due respect, Master," Dooku said, his deep voice lowering dangerously, "damn caution. Jedi have died. We do not solve a problem by looking at it, we must face it head on. Send the best we have, send Master Windu."

"Disturbed, the Force is," Yoda whispered in his soft rasp, his eyes closed and his ears lowered. "Darkness, there is, across the galaxy. Tension, there is, in the Republic. Needed, the Jedi are, to keep the peace."

"There are Sith about, Jedi are dead and still we are bound to the whims of the Republic," Dooku spat bitterly.

"Then perhaps this isn't a job for a Jedi," Qui-Gon said slowly, a wide grin spreading across his face, and though Yoda's hand tightened around his stick, his ears perked up, his wide eyes focused on the unconventional Master. "And I think I know just the guy.