Author's Note: This was written upon request of Derek Metaltron for his 10th anniversary celebration of the release of the Phantom Menace. I hope that you will enjoy it. I've never tried to write anything from Qui-Gon's perspective before, so there is a lot of room for my creative juices to make a mess here, but that's the fun of writing, right?

There will be at least two more chapters in this series.

Reviews: Feedback is always as welcome as air conditioning is in my sweltering school in May and June.

Shadows

Waiting. The first lesson any Jedi learned was how to do that. This was very practical considering how much time the average being probably spent waiting. You waited on line at the bank, you waited for the airbus to reach your stop, and, if you were a Jedi as I was, you waited for the Council to reach a consensus and call you in to inform you of their decision.

Typically, I didn't mind waiting. I wasn't one for grumbling under my breath, complaining loudly about the delay to anyone within earshot, or checking my chrono every ten seconds with a sigh to see exactly how much time had elapsed since I last glanced at the screen. Yet, now I could feel my blood starting to boil as impatience rose within me. Honestly, considering how every member of the Council's views often seemed to be identical to the perspectives of everyone else who made up that body, it could take them an awfully long time to arrive at a decision.

Glancing to my right at my Padawan, who was seated on the sofa beside me, I saw all too clearly that he was barely restraining himself from speaking. At the moment, I hoped he would remain silent. I wasn't in the mood to hear from him how the Council's decision was foregone, since they would never agree to violate tradition enough to train Anakin Skywalker. I didn't need him to confirm what I already knew. I was painfully aware of how dogmatic the Council could be in their championing of the status quo.

They embraced stability, and that, of necessity, meant limiting change. Of course, the problem was that, if there was no change, things could never get any better. Just because something had been done for centuries didn't mean it was the best manner in which to do it. After all, candles did provide light, but glowsticks were much more useful in many circumstances. If it were up to the Council, we would still have been using candles and flimsi, instead of glowsticks and datapads. They would see nothing wrong with this state of affairs, either, because the old technology worked, and Obi-Wan would probably agree with them on that. He agreed with them on everything else, after all. He was probably Yoda's attempt at foisting orthodoxy on me.

Yes, Yoda's maneuverings to match Obi-Wan with me were so that I would get tired of fighting both the Council and my apprentice at every turn. That was enough to try the patience of any Jedi.

It was time to go for a walk, then. Walking would rid me of my impatience, and then, maybe, I could think clearly.

"Come on, Obi-Wan," I ordered, rising. "Let's go for a walk." He seemed to have all the answers. Maybe that certainty would rub off on me.

Obediently, he pushed himself to his feet without comment, although I could tell that he would have preferred to remain where he was. He liked to stay in one spot when he was contemplating something, as though he imagined that external stillness would cultivate inner calm. However, I had given a command, and he would obey. I could rely on that. Dependability was Obi-Wan's middle name, and I could count on one hand the number of times I could remember him defying me. None of them had been over something as petty as preferring to remain seated.

Together, we strode down the marble corridor lined with pillars and glowsticks that were now dimming to a meditative hush as dusk settled over this half of Coruscant. As we progressed down the hallway, the sounds of our boots slapping the floor reverberated unnaturally loudly in my eardrums.

It wasn't odd for quiet to fall between my apprentice and me, because both of us were rather reserved. However, this silence wasn't the comfortable kind that normally happened between us― the sort that occurs when two people are so familiar with each other that they no longer require words to communicate. No, it was an awkward one that was packed with stifled emotions one didn't dare to express. After all, if they sounded horrible in your heart, they would sound even more terrible aloud.

Right now, I was positive that his preference for sitting and thinking rather than walking and thinking wasn't the only feeling Obi-Wan was concealing from me. Was that an accurate reading of the situation, though? Was I letting my emotions sway my interpretations? Was I projecting my feelings onto my Padawan?

Surely, he must be reflecting on something, though. Obi-Wan was always collecting data, sifting through it, analyzing it, and then drawing some conclusion from it. Therefore, since he wasn't speaking what was on his mind, he was hiding his thoughts from me.

"The boy will not pass the Council's tests, Master, and you know it." We had reached the end of the corridor and were about to step out onto a terrace that overlooked the ecumenopolis that was Coruscant when Obi-Wan elected to share his musings with me. Apparently, this had been on his mind for a long time, and he had finally devised what he saw as a tactful enough way to share it. "He is far too old."

Staring out at the cityscape that was glittering like precious gems in the dying pink and muja streams of waning sunlight, I thought that he needn't have bothered sharing that with me. I already knew that Anakin's odds of passing the Council's tests were about as good as those of a snow crystal surviving on Tatooine. Still, there were methods by which one could circumvent the Council. Perhaps if Obi-Wan weren't so rigidly logical, he would spot as much. Somehow, he still never thought about going around the rules despite his years of training with me.

"Anakin will become a Jedi, I promise you," I assured him steadily. Whatever I had to do, I would see to that, because nothing was more important than guaranteeing that the Chosen One was properly trained. As flawed as the Jedi Council's decisions were at times, nobody but the Jedi could teach Anakin how to utilize his gifts so that he could fulfill his destiny, and his destiny must be fulfilled. The Dark Side was on the ascent again, as my harrowing duel with the Sith on Tatooine had demonstrated. As such, it only made sense that our greatest hope would arrive now that our worst enemy had stepped out of the shadows once more after their millennium in hiding.

I expected Obi-Wan to repeat his argument, perhaps with the added declaration that Anakin would pass the Council's tests when Mustafar became as cold as Hoth. However, that was the response of the boy that I had first taken as my Padawan, not that of the man beside me. The man beside me was acquainted with me enough to recognize that I was referring to breaking the rules again.

"Don't defy the Council, Master. Not again," he warned, his tone conveying his disapproval of the idea.

Reflexively, I stiffened. I didn't appreciate him questioning my judgment. I had always relied on my instincts, and I wasn't going to stop just because my apprentice wanted me to. How he justified lecturing me for defying the Council when he was guilty of questioning his own Master was beyond my understanding. Whatever his rationalization was, it didn't make his behavior any less grating.

"I will do what I must, Obi-Wan," I countered, my voice soft, but as intractable as durasteel. Shifting my gaze from an airbus filled with homeward-bound commuters that was whizzing by in the lane closest to us, I regarded him testily. "Would you have me be any other way?"

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, most likely to answer that he would have me be less of a maverick and champion of long lost causes if he could. Then, apparently thinking better of what he meant to say, he snapped his mouth shut again. Plainly, when it came down to it, he loved me for who I was. He wouldn't want me to be any different, because then I wouldn't be the Qui-Gon Jinn he cared about so much.

I could relate to that feeling. After all, no matter how much I complained about Obi-Wan being too logical and too focused on following the Code to the letter, I wouldn't want to change his true character.

Besides, even if we could have changed each other, we would have been fools to do so. We made an exceptional team. Everyone had to admit that, no matter how much they gossiped about how my roguish ways would corrupt obedient Obi-Wan, or how strange it was that the maverick Jedi had selected such a conventional Padawan. Such Jedi didn't understand that in our differences we found our strengths. If Obi-Wan hadn't been conventional enough to surrender his will to mine, we would not have been able to function half as well as we did.

"Master, you could be sitting on the Council right now if you would just follow the Code." Obi-Wan's pronouncement tugged me away from my thoughts. Glancing at him, I saw the steady burning in his eyes that informed me more effectively than words that he was being completely truthful.

He might not have been wrong. I didn't care if he was right or not in his analysis. I remained loyal to my own view of what the Force whispered to me, no matter what the Council determined, and someone who was less interested in the group than in the individual wouldn't be promoted to the Council. That didn't signify, though. It was better to have freedom than prestige.

I couldn't explain this now, for he had never bought it in the past when I had offered this statement in answer to similar assertions he had made after I had been at loggerheads with the Council. As such, I just shrugged, an action which seemed to irk him.

For a moment, I watched as he throttled back his temper. Nothing vexed him more than when he didn't believe I was taking him seriously. Of course, he had always struggled with his anger. It wasn't, I had discovered, that he had more ire in him than the average boy enduring the agonizing transformation into manhood. It was simply that he was hesitant to show his emotions, which meant that it was a battle for him to find an appropriate outlet for his temper. It was also a conflict that he won more and more frequently now, as he acknowledged his anger and then channeled it into the Force. It might take him longer than some to do so, but he could do it. In the end, that was all that mattered. That was only one thing that I had taught him, though, there was still so much I had to impart on him.

No, that was silly. Obi-Wan knew more than enough to survive as a Knight in his own right. He had completed solo missions, and he was one of the most competent apprentices at the Temple. I had been intending to recommend him for Kinghthood upon the completion of this mission, so doing so now wouldn't make that much difference. It might be more abrupt than Obi-Wan would care for, but, in the end, it would amount to the same thing.

However, I sensed that it would take awhile for Obi-Wan to perceive events in that light. This would probably be the last moment of peace we would have for some time. It would also probably be the last time he would permit me to touch him until he had recovered from what I knew I would have to do if the Council refused to train Anakin.

"You still have much to learn, my young Padawan," I murmured, draping a hand across his shoulder and smiling slightly at him. I hoped that the smile would say what I couldn't voice out loud, because maybe Obi-Wan wasn't the only one who was unable to express himself verbally as well as he would have liked. After all, I wished I could have told him that, whatever I said or did before the Council, it wasn't intended to wound him. He was the last person in the galaxy that I wanted to hurt.

In fact, the only reason I would seem to drop him in favor of Anakin was because he was ready. He would make a fine Jedi. I knew that as surely as I did my own name, and one day, the rest of the galaxy would recognize that, too. He was brave, determined, clever, and talented, even if he wasn't as strong in the Force as Anakin Skywalker was. That's why he would be my first gift to the Jedi, and Anakin would be my second. Why give only one present when you can offer two?

Maybe Obi-Wan sensed that I was trying to communicate something significant to him, for he stared at me for a long moment. Then, he seemed to decide that he didn't like what I was attempting to convey, and his eyes narrowed, as the final shadows of dusk settled around us, cloaking us and slipping in between us.