New and groundbreaking; somehow their partnership was the stuff of legend. Qui-gon reflected upon this as he walked through the desolate halls of the Jedi temple, his face silent and contemplative.
He met few; it was a couple hours before the dawn's rays would fall upon Courascant yet. Most other Jedi were asleep, including the youth he was brooding upon.
They were a legend, he thought, as he leaned against the balcony leading down to the garden of fountains. A dozen small yet perfectly peaceful fountains trickled with water steadily.
Qui-gon watched the water, and his eyes sharpened on the small fish swimming round in the water. He grinned, consumed in the living force.
The fish were every color, green, purple, speckled with black and white and red. Like the universe, so many different colors and shades that they blended into a rainbow of personalities and shapes.
Like them, he realized. There had been hundreds, thousands of Jedi teams before Obi-wan and him. Masters and padawans, teachers and students. Obi-wan and him were no new addition to this long line, had probably shared most of the past generations struggles.
The only difference was that he had not picked Obi-wan.
After Xanatos, he had not wanted another student, another boy to dishonor with his unorthodox ways. But he had been given no choice in the matter. Obi-wan had chosen him, and that was all that mattered, in truth.
That Obi-wan had proven not only to be a dutiful student and brave swordsman, but Qui-gon's foundation, his strength, his forgiver among an Order of condemners. If not for Obi-wan, Qui-gon very well may have fallen into the pit of disgraced guilt.
But he had no time to be guilty, not when he had a youth that had matured so much that Qui-gon barely saw a resemblance between him and the boy Tahl had introduced him too, shy and arrogant, not even five years before.
Whether the force had intended to have them meet or not, they were a team, and had become much more than the teams of old.
Obi-wan had become so much his son that he would give life, liberty, honor and Order for the boy's safekeeping. If it came a time that he had to choose between Obi-wan and the universe, he would choose Obi-wan, code forgotten and thrown away with much gusto.
He sighed and sucked in a deep breath. The cold air settled in his lungs, stinging them lightly. They had just returned from another mission; that, without Obi-wan's vast knowledge of odd and unstudied would have failed miserably.
I really oughtn't let him read some of those books, he thought with a chuckle. I'll spoil what's left of his innocence before he's gotten a chance to soil it himself. Not that Obi-wan would ever. He was much too dignified for such a feat. Right now, anyway.
Qui-gon let out a contented sigh. His bones seemed to settle themselves deeper into his muscles as he did so. They had not been home for months now. And the moment of peace was welcome.
His uneasiness remained unforgotten however. Lately, he had been feeling a strange sense of apprehensiveness. He did not know where it came from, but he had been keeping close to his eighteen-year-old apprentice with a fierce sense of over-protectiveness that thankfully Obi-wan was used to, and thus paid little heed to him.
Qui-gon harrumphed and watched the light approaching from the east slowly start to light the sky. The sounds of Courascant started to penetrate even the temple walls, breaking the serene silence. Our fault for building our headquarters on a widely overpopulated city, he reflected ruefully.
Qui-gon shook his head and stood up fully. He was relatively sure Obi-wan would have woken by now, and was probably off trying to find breakfast. Qui-gon decided he might as well find him before he ate the temple out of food.
With his stride confident and relaxed, he made his way to their shared quarters. At length, after winding through several shortcuts that many of the Jedi masters had yet to uncover, he came upon the door and it opened with a wave of his hand.
To his surprise, Obi-wan was not the only youth in the room. He smiled upon seeing other apprentices all outside of Obi-wan's closed door.
Garen, Bant, Siri, Nava, and Quin-lan all stood outside of the door, whispering softly, having yet to notice him. Qui-gon smiled and leaned against the doorframe, wondering what insidious plan the eighteen-year-olds had for his apprentice that would surely irritate Obi-wan out of his normally calm composure.
And wondering if he could help in any way.
"Okay," Garen whispered, obviously the facilitator of whatever they were planning. "The water or the slime?" he asked. "I say the slime," Siri replied, her beautiful blue eyes sparked with rare excitement.
Bant frowned worriedly, her wide sea-green eyes a tad bit merciful.
"Won't the slime get stuck in his hair?" She asked. "That is why we brought it, Bant," Quin-lan pointed out cheerfully. Nava, the shy one in the group, nodded and said softly; "Has anyone noticed the Jedi knight in the doorway?" her eyes shifted to Qui-gon.
She was a clever one, indeed. Very observant. The others swiveled around, looks of mild horror and stricken guilt on their faces.
Qui-gon smiled at them and put a finger to his lips, letting them know that he was on board a hundred percent. The children gave him sparkling grins and beckoned him over.
With as much dignity as he could muster, Qui-gon hurried over and bent over to hear the rest of the jury's decision.
"Okay, a vote," Garen continued, fairly giggling with excitement over the added member. "Who says water?" Bant raised her hand defiantly. The others gave her pitying looks.
She had always been more defensive of Obi-wan than the rest of them. "Sorry, Bant," Siri said putting an arm around the younger girl's shoulders, almost as if an older sister. "But he's getting the goo," Bant crossed her arms, pouting, but nodded.
"Who's going to pour it on him?" Quin-lan inquired, his short braids wagged a bit with every word he spoke. "Would you like to do the honors, master?" Nava's eyes fairly gleamed with mischief as she turned to him.
Qui-gon smiled. "I'd love too," he agreed. "Good," Garen rubbed his hands together and picked up a tub at his feet. It was large, to say the least, and filled with a greenish-yellow goo.
Qui-gon eyed it with curiosity. He knew that these Padawans would never do anything to intentionally harm Obi-wan, but he could not help but speculate how his Padawan would get the substance out of his hair.
"Let's move out then, troops," Garen led the way into the war-zone, striding in crouched low. Quin-lan, Nava, Siri, Banta and Qui-gon followed, in similar positions. The room was dark, lighted only by the light that poured in the open doorway.
Qui-gon squinted at the long bed, which held his apprentice. A long arm hung over the side, while the rest of Obi-wan was concealed under the blankets.
The small snore he made when in a deep sleep wafted out to Qui-gon, making him smile affectionately. This would be so funny.
All of a sudden, Garen stopped in mid stride and held up a hand, his eyes darting from corner to corner. "I don't trust it," he whispered. Qui-gon assumed 'it' meant Obi-wan. "He's in bed, Garen, can't you see him?" Siri hissed back, casting an anxious glance at the bed; the arm had twitched.
"I learned a long time ago that you can't trust a word out of Obi-wan's mouth," Garen replied, glaring at the arm suspiciously. "Nor can you trust a completely innocent look of his. He's a master manipulator, people. He knows we're here," Qui-gon glanced around the room, wondering if Garen's thoughts were paranoia or experience.
"Well spoken, Garen, you know me well," came an amused voice from underneath the covers. "But I'm afraid you have spoken too late!" With a spring of well-tuned balance, Obi-wan was out of bed and Qui-gon was knocked aside, his face still stinging from the pillow that had whacked it.
A second later, the others landed likewise on their sides next to him. Obi-wan was crouched amidst their tangled bodies, pillow up in the defensive style of Aturu.
"Betrayed by his master," he said softly, his azure eyes flashing from person to person, assessing. "Surrounded by the enemy, what is a Jedi to do, then?" He did not seem at all bothered by his chances of winning as all of them jumped back to their feet.
"You tricked us, Obi!" Bant cried, scandalized. Obi-wan glanced at her, and though his face was deadly serious, his eyes twinkled with laughter. "Yes," he agreed calmly.
"An eye for an eye, you could say. You brainwashed master Qui-gon, I knocked you out of your wits, fair trade, I'd say," he glanced at Qui-gon and shook his head almost regretfully.
"My master, what sort of treason is this? How could you so blatantly join these barbarians against your own pupil?" he declaimed dramatically. Qui-gon resisted the urge to laugh.
"Unpleasant child," he greeted simply. Obi-wan feigned shock. "Me? Unpleasant?" He demanded. "And over-confident," Nava added, picking up a pillow for herself. She squared off against Obi-wan, crouching low. Her cat-like brown eyes danced daringly.
"Stand down, Obi-wan. And you will gain some mercy from us," she jerked her head to the large jar of goo. "Maybe we'll be extra careful not to get you in the face," she shrugged. "Maybe not, it is your decision," Qui-gon was proud of his friend for having taught such a threat. Kapli had trained Nava well.
But so had he taught Obi-wan, for the boy narrowed his eyes. "Surrender? I'd rather die!" he put a fist by his heart solemnly. "So it is my vow as a Jedi," he reminded them.
"Tell a bounty hunter that and I'll skin you bare," Qui-gon retorted, using the force to grab a pillow. There was no backing out now; he had already committed treachery. "Foolish boy, time to me your fate!" Garen grabbed a pillow. The others followed likewise. Obi-wan cocked an elegant eyebrow.
"Boy? I'm two months older than you, my friend. And besides, being that, I have also always been three years ahead of you in all of our classes. I regret to say that it is you who has met your conqueror," so valiant and poetic. He would drive a bounty hunter mad.
The attackers charged the out-numbered Jedi. As suddenly as he had begun to swing, Obi-wan gave him a good, hard whack on the back of the head.
Qui-gon toppled over, and with his main competition gone, Obi-wan began to take on the other apprentices.
Qui-gon watched from his position on the ground. His head rung pleasantly. He was warm, and filled with delighted, excited content. The light side swirled around him, singing with carefree independence and competitive felicity.
The younglings rolled, spun and danced around each other, laughing as they waged mock war. Qui-gon could want no other life.
He sighed happily and chuckled as Bant was knocked to the ground, giggling. "You idiot!" she heartily scolded Quin-lan, who tripped over her quickly. He landed with a crash, on his behind. "Up! That's it, Nava!" Garen cheered as Nava came up behind Obi-wan and covered his eyes.
"Nava! Blast you!" Obi-wan laughed, trying to detach her from his face. He laughed harder as Siri tried to hold down one of his arms unsuccessfully. "Do you regret having been found by the Jedi?" The voice of one of his old friends echoed in his mind. "Regret this?" he murmured incredulously.
Regret living with some of the most intelligent and spirited beings in the galaxy? Regret being trained by a great mind and honorable warrior? Regret being able to cross from one side of the galaxy to another, helping all who called for it? Regret having gained the love of Tahl through Obi-wan? Regret having met Obi-wan and his odd tangle of friends?
No, Qui-gon had never been happier, nor did he believe he could be any happier than he was right now. He felt an urge to weep for the happiness that was pooled in his soul, the pure light that this boy and his friends brought to him.
It was as if there was no darkness, no hatred, no malice or temptation here and now. There was only these children and their pillow fight.
Qui-gon closed his eyes, lured into dreamland at the sound of Obi-wan's laughter. What more could I want? He wondered. At the moment, he felt no sorrow or worry for the future, not with these children. As long as there was some light in the galaxy left, there was hope.
They were hope. His hope.
All of a sudden, a vision flashed before his mind. A red lightsaber clashing against his blue one. Metal behind them, they were on a platform of some sort. He saw a flash of white and the spin of Obi-wan's padawan braid.
Sweat clustered on his brow. He was gasping for breath. Obi-wan was running, Qui-gon could feel his anxiety and desperate will to get to Qui-gon. Then the clear energy of a ray-shield. Red, red as blood, but it was blended into an expression.
Qui-gon could not see the face, it was blurred, but he saw the red lightsaber and black clothes of Sith. And then he saw that same red lightsaber plunge through his stomach. Searing, tingling, blazing pain.
"NOOO!" He heard Obi-wan's voice scream before the pain engulfed him in a blanket of red.
Qui-gon's eyes snapped open. The apprentices were still engrossed in their playful fight. The atmosphere was light. And yet Qui-gon was sure he had just seen what could be his own death. He felt no fear. He was not afraid of death. In fact, he felt strangely at peace.
Because there was hope for the future after he was gone. These children.
But what about Obi-wan? By now the boy had been overcome. Both Garen and Quin-lan were on top of him, trying to hold his wiggling body down as the girls grabbed handfuls of goo and deposited it right in Obi-wan's face.
"Uh, disgusting! Stop it! Get off me!" Obi-wan gasped out between his laughter. Qui-gon chuckled softly. How he loved that boy.
He had no clue whether he would die before Obi-wan was knighted or not, but he suspected not. What would happen to him, then? Would Obi-wan be able to handle his death, to move on?
Would he be so consumed by grief that he forgot Qui-gon, himself, the universe? He was a strong lad, but Qui-gon knew what grief did to a person, especially if it was as violent as his may have to be. And with Obi-wan's tendency to blame himself for everything that ever happened to people….
No, Qui-gon needed to leave him something, something more than his legacy and his teachings. He needed to leave him something to remind him, however many years it should be after, that Qui-gon had loved him, that there was hope for the galaxy as long as there were those that hoped.
Right now, he did not need it, but later, he might. He just might.
"Master, with all due respect, after this morning's spectacle, I'm not inclined to trust you taking me anywhere with the excuse that it's a surprise. The last surprise I received robbed me of breakfast, sleep, and a good four hours of my day. I still haven't gotten all of that vile nastiness out of my scalp," Obi-wan informed him diplomatically.
Qui-gon smiled but did not look back as he piloted the ship towards the planet's surface. "Had you surrendered as Nava so eloquently offered, they'd have spared your beautiful hair," he pointed out.
"I don't believe any of them intended to honor that deal," Obi-wan replied huffily. He squeezed a tangle of his still dripping wet hair and water dripped to the floor.
"They would have stuffed it down my throat, too, had Bant not told them they'd kill me, they very well would have gone on," he said. Qui-gon chuckled and shook his head.
"Probably. I was having a good time, though," he told him knowingly. "That's because you started to tickle me!" Obi-wan objected indignantly.
"And you squealed like a girl," Qui-gon agreed, this time with a laugh. Obi-wan blushed. "You know I'm ticklish," he muttered ruefully. "It was very hard not to notice, what with you begging me to stop and I hadn't even touched you," he agreed, returning to the buttons in front of him.
"Don't tease me, master. Garen and Quin-lan managed to humble me enough when we were at the temple," Obi-wan mumbled, his pride bruised.
Qui-gon only chuckled unsympathetically and decided to take mercy on him this time. "Very well, I'll squelch my urge. Tell me apprentice, do you remember our trip to the planet Genesis?" he wondered.
Obi-wan nodded, his face brightening considerably. "Yes, master. I remember it well," he agreed. Qui-gon nodded, he had not doubted it, his apprentice had a keen memory, a skill that would serve him well when the time for him to be a Jedi knight arrived.
"Good. And the customs?" Obi-wan nodded. "Odd customs, certainly, but overall a respectable people," he observed. Qui-gon nodded. "Well, I remember one custom in particular and thought now of all times would be a good time to execute it," he said flippantly.
"Why is now a good time, master?" Obi-wan asked, curiously glancing at him. Qui-gon's heart skipped a beat, but he managed not to convey his feelings. "This morning's spectacle inspired me, you could say. I want you to remember your time as my apprentice when you are knighted," he answered casually. Obi-wan did not notice the way his voice had cracked at the word knight, or if he did, he thankfully did not comment upon it.
"I highly doubt I would ever be able to forget, master," Obi-wan said instead, wryly. Qui-gon smiled. "You think so now, but with age comes longing. Treasures from the past can help remind us of good times," he said knowingly.
"We're not going to stash things into a chest and bury it, are we?" Obi-wan demanded, narrowing his eyes at Qui-gon suspiciously.
"That is exactly what we are doing, yes," Qui-gon agreed. Obi-wan let out a huff and opened his mouth. "The Jedi code…" There he goes again, Qui-gon thought tiredly. "I'm well aware of what the Jedi code would dictate in this situation, Obi-wan," he interrupted dryly.
"And I ask you this, when have I ever followed the code to perfection?" Obi-wan smiled and sighed. "Never, master," he admitted.
"Exactly, so what makes you think I would begin trying to nullify my ways now?" Qui-gon asked smugly, as they entered the atmosphere. "I was hoping to provide you with an example, my master," Obi-wan informed him.
"Were you? Well, it was a very considerate thought, young one, but I'm afraid I'm not so dim as to follow your example when I'm the one whose supposed to be training you," he countered. Obi-wan sighed and walked up, putting a hand on the shoulder of Qui-gon's chair.
"You're no fun, then. When are we to land? And what in the blazes are we going to bury?' He asked. "I was thinking I could perhaps bury you," Qui-gon suggested helpfully. Obi-wan gave him an odd look and a smile.
"Can I be buried in the good dirt, then?" he asked simply, unaffected. "Only the finest for my cherished apprentice," qui-gon assured him as they swooshed down from the atmosphere to the ground. Qui-gon landed them smoothly. Obi-wan sighed and shook his head.
"I suppose I'll find out what we're burying soon enough. I dearly hope you weren't serious about burying me?" he cocked an eyebrow at Qui-gon as if he half suspected the answer to be yes. Obi-wan was suspicious and untrusting by nature, but it sometimes unnerved Qui-gon, the depths in which his heart was locked.
So unlike me, he mused worriedly. Qui-gon's heart was easy to access, especially if the person was kind or reckless. That was not to say he gave his heart to any fool who asked, but Qui-gon sometimes believed that everyone he came across with these traits carried a piece of his heart with them.
Not Obi-wan, though. You had to pass a thousand rituals to even find the complicated combination into Obi-wan's heart, and even that feat was near to impossible.
Qui-gon had managed to set a reserved spot in Obi-wan's heart, he was sure, but he still did not entirely understand Obi-wan, nor did the young pupil understand him. They complimented and confused each other.
This was mostly in due to the fact that they were so different, complete polar opposites were they, as Yoda has said. Probably because they relied on different versions of the force. Qui-gon was in tune to the living force, while Obi-wan loved the unifying force.
"Alright," Obi-wan continued, unaware of his brooding. "Where are we going? And what are we burying?" Nevertheless, his curiosity amused Qui-gon, always.
He only stood and walked to the back, Obi-wan following closely, blue eyes wide with anticipation. Qui-gon grabbed the box he had picked out especially for this situation and started out of the ship.
Obi-wan stayed on the ramp, leaning against the ship and studying Qui-gon. Qui-gon walked out, and set the box down. Now, he thought as he studied the ground. We need a suitable place to dig. He turned around and beckoned Obi-wan over.
"Obi-wan, come pick a digging spot," he called. Obi-wan trotted over and without question began to study the ground, walking over the grassy field and feeling at the dirt every once in awhile. Qui-gon smiled watching him. He was so thorough, his padawan.
The reason Qui-gon had called Obi-wan to pick the spot was because he wanted him to remember it. After all, it was Obi-wan who would be coming back to this place one day to reclaim his gifts from the past.
"Find it?" he asked. Obi-wan shook his head, regarding a mushroom contemplatively. Qui-gon chuckled. "Take your time," he sat down, examining the place where Obi-wan's time holder would be.
He forgot the name of the planet, but it was not well known, though it should have been with its beauty. It mostly was inhabited by small tribes; though they stayed off this land, for they thought it was sacred. No wonder, the force was strong.
Green grass flattened with every blow of the wind, since it was over six inches tall by now. The sky above them was the purest dark blue that Qui-gon had ever seen.
The hills and trees that covered this landscape were majestic in their own nature. Qui-gon closed his eyes, calling forth the living force to help Obi-wan find his way.
"Here!" So quick, the living force. Qui-gon opened his eyes. Obi-wan was atop of a steep hill, waving his hands triumphantly. "I found a place, master!" he called again. Qui-gon nodded and ran up to where Obi-wan stood.
A warm breeze passed over them, stirring Qui-gon's hair. He took in a deep breath. "Magnificent," he breathed, looking over at the vast hills and rolling green plains. "But why this spot, apprentice?" he asked, turning to his protégé.
"There are now blemishes. No mushrooms, rocks or moss," Obi-wan answered simply, crouching at his feet to run his hands through the dark soil. Qui-gon shook his head. Obi-wan still had much to learn.
"Very well," he jerked his head towards the ship. "Let's dig."
Later:
They finished when the sun was setting, having turned the sky a brilliant gold. Qui-gon looked up from the hole he was in and ran a hand through his dirty hair. Obi-wan was wiping dirt from himself as well, wrinkling his nose as he found a wiggling worm on his tunic.
"Is this deep enough, do you suppose?" he asked. Qui-gon nodded and hopped out of the hole, which went up to his neck. Obi-wan followed him, doing a dramatic front-flip by habit.
"Obi-wan, how many times….?" He began sternly. "Modesty is a virtue, not pride," Obi-wan finished quickly. "I'm sorry, master." Qui-gon nodded, still radiating disapproval. He would break that pride yet. "Good," he continued.
"Go get the box," eager, certainly, to get away from his glare, Obi-wan ran off to do as he said. When he was far enough away, Qui-gon chuckled.
Obi-wan returned sifting through the box. The nosy boy. "Master!" he gasped. "These are your souvenirs!" he protested as he walked up.
"Our souvenirs," Qui-gon corrected, taking out the small clay pot he had come to love. "We can't bury these, master! They mean something to you!" Obi-wan said, looking at him with concern.
Qui-gon smiled. "Yes, that is why you will hold them dear to you one day, when you are grown," Obi-wan made a noise deep in his throat and put a hand on Qui-gon's arm.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "I meant what I said, master, I do not need anything to remember you by. Your teachings are enough," the boy did not lack a heart though. No, never would he.
"No, Obi-wan, they are not enough. Not for you," he put a hand on top of the one holding his arm.
"I want to leave something more for you. Besides, who else would I trust these things too? They are important to me, and I want you to have them one day," he knelt and picked up the box, enclosing his pot inside.
"So why not give them to me when I am knighted?" Obi-wan asked, not letting his case fall without a fight. "Because tomorrow might not agree with today," Qui-gon replied. Obi-wan's eyes misted over. He knew the lesson well.
"Yes, you are right, I fear," he sighed. "I always am. Do not be sad, come help me bury this," Qui-gon jumped into the hole and set the box down at the bottom. Quickly, he glanced up, Obi-wan was not within sight range.
With swift hands, Qui-gon pealed open the lid and slipped in the note. The first sentence flashed by him. "My cherished apprentice…" One day Obi-wan would read it, and know the truth. Qui-gon trusted he would be able to take it. Then he turned away and climbed out.
Obi-wan had already began packing dirt back into place. They buried the box in silence. Finally, the mound had been packed into place and the box buried under feet of dirt. Qui-gon sighed, contented. Obi-wan sighed as well, confused.
"Why did you do this?" He grumbled, not meeting Qui-gon's eye. Qui-gon lifted his head to the sunset, eyes closed.
"I won't be here forever, Obi-wan," he reminded him. Obi-wan did not answer. "I will not always be there for you to draw upon. I sense danger in our future, young one. I just wanted to give you something to remind you of these pleasant times," he confessed. Obi-wan still did not answer.
Qui-gon opened one eye. "Obi-wan?" The young man was standing there, still as a statue, watching Qui-gon with dull eyes. "You fear I would not be able to handle further troubles?" he asked softly. Qui-gon sighed; he saw doubt everywhere, this boy. "I know you will, but strength only lasts so long, Obi-wan. How long will yours last?" he wondered.
Obi-wan nodded slowly, understanding. "Thank you, then, master," he whispered. Qui-gon chuckled and pt an arm around his charge. "Thank you? My padawan, if anything is a memorable experience; it is my time with you that has beaten all records," Obi-wan blushed. "I wasn't that much trouble; was I master?" He asked, rubbing the back of his head.
Qui-gon laughed and pulled Obi-wan to him, hugging him to his chest. "No," he said, laying his chin on top of intricate curls. "You were not trouble so much as adventure and lessons. I have learned more from you than any other apprentice," Obi-wan beamed.
"I am a natural teacher," he agreed self-importantly. Qui-gon chuckled. "Yes, but apparently you require more lessons on humility," Obi-wan let out a squeak as Qui-gon started to tickle his stomach.
"No, master. Stop it! Stop!" Obi-wan protested, struggling to get away. Qui-gon tightened his grip. "Words have so forth failed with you, I'm afraid. You are stubborn, if not relentlessly proud. Action is the only solution I have left," he stated wisely as Obi-wan twisted and laughed.
"Stop it! No fair, master! This is not… The Jedi… Way!" Obi-wan gasped between giggles as he managed to twist himself out of Qui-gon's grip. Like a flash of lightning, he was running down the hill feverishly towards the ship.
Qui-gon laughed. "You cannot escape knowledge, my foolish friend!" he chanted. "No, but I can outrun you!" Obi-wan responded over his shoulder.
Outrun him? Just how old did he suppose Qui-gon was? "We'll see about that!" With a new competitive drive, Qui-gon raced after him, laughing.
Soon the two left the buried treasure behind, waiting patiently for the future and the new people and chapters it beheld, while they continued in their present play.
Meanwhile, the darkening force smiled at one of its greatest creations. The coming together of this legendary team.
This one is even more important to the theme of the Battleground of Brothers. A whole chapter will center around this event.
~Queen Yoda