Summary: The night Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan return from Tatooine (E1) they are woken by an intruder. The intruder is an old friend and brings a warning to the Jedi: the end of the Order is near. Yet, the threat does not stem from the return of the Sith lords. Killings throughout the galaxies are being made to look like the work of the Jedi, casting doubt upon the Order and creating a widespread movement to end the Order, the Jedi, and the use of the Force. With the intruder's help Qui-Gon and Obi Wan set out to save the Order from destruction, while still protecting the newfound Chosen One, Anakin Skywalker. The pair's greatest trials lie ahead – torture, imprisonment, grief, alliances, destruction, rebellion, separation, leadership, family, and even love. Qui-Gon remains determined to give his life to save the Order. Obi Wan, changed by the trials begins to wonder if they're truly meant to save it. Perhaps...they're meant to do something more. After all, the end is only the beginning.
A/N – Don't own SW
Chapter 1: Late Night Warnings
The buildings of Coruscant gleamed, even in the dark, reflecting the lights of the sleek speeders as they whizzed across the crowded skyways. The planet's crust was so far below the pointed spires of durasteel and humanity that few ever saw it in their lifetime. They preferred to stay in the skies, oblivious to the soils and oceans they'd ravaged to build their shining city-planet. Even at night it shone!
Daria swore again as the scarce shadows shifted, the tip of her silver hoverboard catching the light of a passing speeder. There was a reason most crimes happened in the Works or the Factory District. It was dark there and it stayed that way. Much better for sneaking around than the Senate District, or worse, the Jedi Temple, which was Daria's target. She'd tried speaking with the Temple's public administrators. She'd tried slipping past security in one of the few public areas of the Temple and had been caught. She'd thought about using the air ducts, but knew given the size of the Temple she might never find her way out.
Thus Daria had opted for a more direct approach. To be precise, she was breaking in. The only problem in that was finding the window she was looking for out of the hundreds in the knights' quarters. She'd been searching for twenty minutes with no success. Daria glanced at her com. If she didn't find the window soon she'd have to leave and come back again tomorrow night. She could only hover outside the Temple windows for so long before one of the sleeping Jedi noticed her. They had an infuriating knack for sensing people skulking about.
Daria eased herself up to the next row of windows. The window she was looking for was the fourth from the end on the northeast corner of the temple where the accommodation sector was located. The problem was she couldn't remember which floor it was on so she had to check them all. Not to mention each room looked virtually identical. The Jedi truly held to their proverbs of few possessions, a trait that until tonight Daria had considered admirable. Now it was only frustrating.
There! Daria sighed in relief at the sight of a familiar pair of brown leather boots slumped against a faded couch. Glancing over her shoulder she pulled a small droid from her satchel and carefully pressed it against the glass, praying to the Force she remembered the proper code to activate it. Unless it had wings and could fly, Daria was mechanically inept. She held her breath and pressed the seven-digit code, relieved when two slender mechanical arms shot out from the body of the droid and sunk two small blades into the glass. The droid blinked and hummed as the arms slowly began to rotate, leaving a smooth seam in the glass.
As the droid did its work Daria pulled her knees up toward her chest, crouching on her hoverboard. She'd only have a few seconds after the glasscutter moved out of the way to get inside if she wanted to prevent her vital organs from being seared by a lightsabre. She'd escaped detection so far but she knew the second she flew through the ruined window he would sense her. If he weren't sleeping, he'd have sensed her already.
Time slowed as the tiny droid clicked and latched onto the glass, its little reverse thrusters protesting under the weight of the pane as it moved to the side. Daria lunged, aware of a flicker of consciousness to her left as she passed through the glass. A door hissed open, muffled by the heated hum of a green lightsabre. The first stroke was aimed at her board and Daria flipped backward. A second door opened and a second lightsabre snapped as Daria landed in a crouch on the worn marble floor. Things were happening too fast. Her weapons were no match for a lightsabre. Her only hope was to get his attention.
Rolling to the right, Daria felt the heat of his sabre as it singed the tips of her hair. That was too close. She tucked her knees to her chin and somersaulted, placing the couch between herself and her two attackers. With practiced ease she sprang to her feet, stretching her right hand toward the light console she could see dimly near the door on the far wall. She flicked her wrist and sent a gentle pulse through the Force, nudging the control up as high as it would go. The unexpected brightness disoriented her attackers. They hesitated. Daria knew she wouldn't get a second chance.
"Please, Master Jinn! It's me, Daria!"
The green sabre stopped and Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn blinked. Daria watched uneasily as his hands flexed around the hilt of his sabre. The man's padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi was breathing heavily, his cropped hair flattened against the left side of his head. He was barely awake as he gazed at her with foggy grey eyes, but the blue eyes of his master were sharp as ever. Daria squirmed.
"Master Jinn, please stop staring. You know it makes me nervous when you do that," Daria whispered. "I feel as if you're looking right through me."
Obi-Wan yawned. "She's right, Master. That look of yours is worse than Master Windu's."
Qui-Gon Jinn rolled his eyes inwardly. He didn't have a look and even if he did, he knew it couldn't be as wrinkled and bitter as Mace's censuring gaze. The man looked positively constipated, a fact Qui-Gon hadn't hesitated to mention to him, much to his fellow master's displeasure. However, he supposed if he did have a look he would be wearing it now. Woken up in the middle of the night to find someone flying through a gaping hole in his window, only to have the lights come on and see Daria Karzul. It was instances such as this that made him remember the words of his former master, condemning his compassion for all living things as his greatest weakness. At the time he'd disagreed. Tonight he had to wonder.
Fifteen years ago he'd been the one to find Daria on Daltarra, in the capital city of Quenin. He'd been sent on a solo mission to rescue a Daltarran diplomat from a particularly cruel group of Hapan pirates led by a man named Scye. Daria's mother, a bounty hunter named Calla, had offered her assistance, the only proviso being that Calla get the bounty on Scye's head when it was over. Unfamiliar with Daltarra Qui-Gon had agreed, but both of them had gotten more than they'd bargained for. Qui-Gon soon discovered that the Daltarran diplomat was actually in league with the pirates and had no desire to be rescued. Knocked unconscious by an explosion the pirates had rigged to cover their retreat, Qui-Gon's last thought had been that he would surely die.
Two days later he'd woken to find himself in Calla's home. The young bounty hunter had dragged him out of the burning structure, choosing to save his life and allowing her mark to escape. Her husband, a botanist studying natural medicine, had tended to him. They were an odd pair, a botanist and a bounty hunter, but in the week he'd stayed with them Qui-Gon had discovered that they complemented one another perfectly. He'd also discovered that their two-year-old daughter Daria was a Force sensitive. He'd spoken with her parents and told them about the Temple. Kindly, but firmly, they had refused him. They had nothing against the Jedi. They just couldn't let someone else raise their little girl. Daria – as had quickly become apparent to Qui-Gon – was the centre of their world.
Qui-Gon hadn't pushed and had left Daltarra as soon as he was well enough to travel. The small family he'd left behind hadn't entered his mind again until Calla arrived at the Temple nearly three months later, clutching Daria to her chest as if someone were going to snatch the girl away. Both were wounded, but Calla had refused treatment, saying she didn't have time. She'd explained that she'd caught and killed Scye about five weeks earlier. Since then there had been several attempts on her life, the last of which had nearly killed Daria. Qui-Gon had listened and then watched, too stunned to protest as Calla wrapped his arms around her unconscious daughter, kissed her forehead, turned, and fled. Qui-Gon had run after her, nearly knocking over a group of padawans in his haste, but by the time he'd reached the street, there was no sign of her.
Resigned, he'd gone back into the Temple, cradling Daria against his chest. He'd stayed in the healing wing while the healers fussed over her. He hadn't wanted her to wake up in a strange place and not see anyone she knew. One of the most difficult moments in his life had come when she'd woken the next afternoon and asked for her mother. Rather than frighten her by telling her that her parents were being hunted, he'd chosen to tell her that her parents had decided to bring her to the Temple to stay with him and become a Jedi. He could still remember the broken expression on her face when she realized what his words meant.
He'd held her for hours, long after she'd cried herself to sleep, until the Council had called for him the next morning. Unfortunately, Daria had become quite accustomed to him being with her. When she woke and found him gone she'd been so distressed that the healers had interrupted his meeting with the Council, actually bringing Daria to him in hopes he would calm her. Once in the Council chambers she'd latched onto him desperately, refusing to let him go when he tried to explain to her that he was meeting with the Council and that he would return. A couple of the Council members had seemed annoyed, but most had been amused to see one of the Jedi's greatest negotiators outdone by a toddler. Eventually, they'd reached a compromise, and Daria had spent the rest of his meeting asleep on his shoulder.
In the days and weeks that followed, Daria had rarely left his side. She'd even slept in his quarters. It had taken months of coaxing for him to be able to leave her in the crèche with the other younglings for even an hour. He wasn't sure who those first separations had been harder on, Daria or him. A year later, she'd finally been comfortable enough with the other Masters to leave his apartment and join the other younglings in the crèche, much to the Council's relief. Qui-Gon's immovable indulgence of Daria's need to be with him had denied the Council of one of their most capable Jedi, but Qui-Gon had resisted any of their attempts to force the child to become more independent. It was only one of the many times he'd defied the Council and he did not regret it, in spite of the fact it spoke to his difficulties regarding attachment.
"Master?"
Qui-Gon started, Daria's quiet voice reminding him instantly of the frightened child that had clung to him years ago. She had the same warm brown eyes, the same long white hair and bronze skin. And she still had him wrapped around her little finger.
She'd grown since he'd last seen her, at least two inches. If she stood straight she'd be nearly as tall as Obi-Wan. She wasn't standing straight though. Her shoulders were curled toward her chest and she kept dropping her left arm slightly, as if it pained her to keep it up. She was wounded. He couldn't help but wonder how badly and by whom, a familiar pang of protective anger prickling at the back of his neck at the thought of her coming to harm. He knew he should be angry with her. He knew there would be trouble with the Council in the morning, but Force help him, he couldn't help but be glad to see her.
Defeated, Qui-Gon flicked off his sabre and set it on the small table beside him, motioning for Daria to come out from behind his couch as he sank onto it. Daria lowered her hands cautiously as Obi-Wan's sabre blade crackled and then vanished.
"You know, I'm not even sure where to begin this time, Daria," Qui Gon confessed, feeling every one of his sixty years as Daria stood timidly in front of him. "Coming through my window in the middle of the night? I could have killed you!"
Daria smiled weakly, holding out the tips of her long hair. They were singed.
"You came close enough for my liking, Master."
Qui-Gon buried his face in his hands, ignoring the squeamish rush of nausea as he realized how close he'd come to hurting the girl.
"You do realize that breaking into the Jedi Temple is a punishable offense, even for a former padawan like yourself," Obi-Wan commented wryly, rubbing roughly against Qui-Gon's worn nerves as the younger man walked past Daria to the kitchenette. His padawan seemed to be taking Daria's intrusion very much in stride. "Several years of service on a penal planet if I'm not mistaken."
"Why, are you going to report me?"
Qui-Gon could hear the taunting smile in Daria's retort from where he was hiding beneath his hands. Force save him.
"No," Obi-Wan assured her, "I just thought I should point that out, in case you'd forgotten."
"Obi-Wan is right, Daria," Qui-Gon interjected, running his fingers through his greying hair in an attempt to keep it out of his face. "You took a great risk doing as you did."
"I did try proper channels," Daria explained, perching on the end of the couch next to Qui-Gon. "I went to the public administrators and asked to speak with you. You weren't on planet so I asked to speak with Master Yoda or Master Windu. They wouldn't allow it."
"Why did you not explain to them that you are a former padawan," Obi-Wan asked as he sat on the arm of the couch beside her. "Surely that would have given you some leverage, would it not Master?"
Qui-Gon glanced at his padawan and nodded absently, preoccupied by the warning he felt humming through the Force.
"That's just it, I tried. I had them search my name in the Archive's database," Daria paused, looking down her hands, "but, uh, I-I'm not there."
Qui-Gon's stiffened.
"What do you mean you're not there, Daria," he demanded sharply. Daria flinched, kneading her left palm. "Daria, this is important."
"I meant just as I said, Master," she whispered, avoiding his eyes. "I'm not in the Jedi Archives anymore. It's as if I was never here. I've been erased."
"Is that even possible, Master?"
Qui-Gon didn't answer his padawan's question. Yes, it was possible, but only for a Jedi. Daria had chosen to leave the Jedi Order, but even so Qui-Gon could think of no reason why she would have been removed from the Archive files. If anything the Jedi would want record of someone like Daria who'd been so far into her training when she left. She might easily fall to the Dark side.
The warning he'd sensed earlier was growing.
"Daria, just what is so important that you were willing to risk life and limb to get inside this temple? You could easily have waited until you saw someone you knew to ask them for help."
Daria scoffed.
"You know as well as I do Master that the Jedi do not often leave the Temple through the public halls. I could have waited for days, weeks even. I-I don't have that kind of time."
"Here, Master, Daria."
Qui-Gon looked up, startled as Obi-Wan put a mug of tea into his open hands. He hadn't even noticed the younger man going back into the kitchen.
Daria took a second mug, sipping at it slowly as Obi-Wan settled on the floor in front of them, his own mug cupped tightly against his chest. Obi-Wan was not a morning person, particularly when morning came very unexpectedly at 3 am.
Qui-Gon sipped at his drink, sensing Daria was not yet ready to speak and that pressing her would not help. He felt a slight shift in the Force, a release of tension followed by a gentle wave of peace that lapped against his own consciousness. Beside him Daria sighed. Part of him thought to reprimand her. She was no longer a Jedi padawan. It was dangerous for her to be using the Force without the proper guidance, but he somehow couldn't deprive her of the comfort he sensed she gained from the reflexive action.
"I came to warn the Jedi." Qui-Gon's mug nearly slipped through his fingers. "Something has happened and the future is changing. The Jedi are in danger."
"As Master Yoda is so fond of saying, the future is always changing Daria," Qui-Gon reminded gently. "What is so different in this instance?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan seconded, the corners of his lips quirking upward, "are the Jedi not always in danger? We are not well liked in certain circles."
Daria shook her head, her expression one of immeasurable weariness as she met Obi-Wan's gaze with a sad smile.
"This is a different kind of danger." Obi-Wan's smile faded. Daria bent over her mug, inhaling the steam before taking a long draught of the strong brew. "Someone is working to eliminate the Order and if action is not taken, they will succeed."
"What makes you so certain, Daria?"
"I, I started receiving visions a few months ago, visions of..." Daria's hands tightened around the mug as her voice trailed off. Qui-Gon reached out and laid his hand on her knee. "At first I dismissed them, until I started hearing word of killings along the Outer Rim." Daria grabbed his hand, her expression strained as she finally met his gaze. "Master, they're being made to look like Jedi killings. They were happening even before I left the Order, but now, now there are movements, movements to have the Order disperse and the Jedi brought to trial."
"Surely a few discontents on the Outer Rim are of little consequence," Obi-Wan observed, setting his mug aside. "The Senate would never allow us to come under such a blatant attack."
"Do not look for help from the Senate," Daria warned darkly. "There is a shadow growing there that could consume us all."
"Daria, I do value your insights," assured Qui-Gon, taking her mug and setting it on the table so he could massage her small hands, "but is it not possible that you are exaggerating the severity of this threat?"
"The last victim was a child of one of the Senators, from the Darpa Sector on Esseles."
"That's Senator Esprix, is it not?"
"Yes," Daria answered, "He's going to move for an investigation against the Order in Senate tomorrow."
"The Senate will not support such a movement, Daria. Esprix would know that. Just where are you getting your information?"
Daria flashed him a canted grin.
"I have my sources, Master, and yes, they are reliable. This source in particular I would trust with my life."
Qui-Gon nodded, letting go of Daria's hands as he stood and began pacing.
"How many years did you say these killings have been going on, Daria?"
"Nearly three years, Master."
"Surely the Jedi must have some record of them," Obi-Wan interjected. "The Council is not blind."
"No, they're not," Daria agreed, her eyes following Qui-Gon's restless movements. "Master, sit. You're worse than a caged Bantha."
Qui-Gon stopped, but didn't sit.
"Daria, I need to know more precisely what you've seen. I don't doubt you, but I cannot go to the Council with vague notions of impending doom for the Order and a motion that may or may not be made in the Senate."
"Esprix will make the motion tomorrow. As you stated, the Senate will be reluctant as of yet to show such bad faith toward the Jedi, but it will be enough to plant a seed of doubt, particularly among those who have always had reservations about the Order. These killings will become more blatant and the purpose of the Jedi will be called into question."
"How?"
Daria smiled at Qui-Gon's sharp interruption.
"You know as well as I do Master that Force visions are not so simple. I know the Jedi will be challenged. I know they will be doubted by enough planets that the Senate will give in and launch an investigation. The findings will," Daria paused, her smooth brow creased by a deep frown, "be less than complimentary. From there things become less clear. I've seen flashes, felt surges of emotion. None of them positive and none of them involve the survival of the Order."
"You mean you've actually seen the end?"
Obi-Wan's question was quiet, anguished, as if he feared Daria's reply.
"Yes."
The silence that followed her statement was weighted. Even the hum of the climate control seemed loud. Obi-Wan swirled the dregs of his tea around in his mug, his face as always, a mask of calm. Daria sat, elbows on her knees, eyes fixed on the spot where Qui-Gon stood, arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't sure what to do. What could he do? Her predictions were so outrageous they seemed impossible, making them perhaps, all the more plausible.
Qui-Gon turned his back on the two young people he knew were waiting for his judgement, the wise and knowing Jedi Master. He certainly didn't feel wise, although his self-deprecation was part of what allowed him to rely so heavily on the Force. His anxiety eased as he slipped into its familiar depths, hoping it might grant him some measure of discernment. He could sense Obi-Wan's agitation and sent a soft nudge of peace across their bond before slipping deeper into the Force.
All there was light, life, breath, the energy of all that had or ever would be surging in one mighty wave of sentience. It soothed his spirit and calmed his conflicted mind. Yet, surging at the edges of its peaceful depths was the same warning he'd felt when Daria first began to speak. It was stronger now, clearer, and Daria stood at its epicentre. It was as though the Force was drawing its concerns and fears around her, cloaking the usual brightness of her Force signature in his mind. He caught wisps of emotions from her. Fear, sorrow, and desperation were chief among them, but the strongest, nearly overwhelming him as he reached for it, was compassion. All of her emotions stemmed from a singular desire to protect the Jedi, a desire that seemed to permeate the Force swirling around her.
"Daria, I want to investigate this further before going to the Council," he stated, easing from the Force as he turned to face her.
"Of course, Master," she agreed eagerly, a surge of relief bringing a smile to her lips. "Thank you, for believing me."
"I make no promises, Daria," he cautioned, "but I believe what you have said should be investigated. Obi-Wan, you should go back to sleep." Qui-Gon sat on the couch and slid his feet into his worn leather boots, foregoing socks and his leather belt as he plucked his long brown robe off the back of the couch. "You'll have to see to Anakin until I return. The Council may send word in the morning about having him tested and if you hear anything from Queen Amidala, be sure to send for me."
"Of course Master," Obi-Wan managed as he yawned. "What about Daria?"
"Daria, will stay here until morning with you and Anakin, but first she's coming with me." Daria stood and opened her mouth to protest, snapping it shut when Qui-Gon fixed her with a flinty glare. "You need to get that shoulder looked at, hm?"
"I'm fine, really Master. A little rest and I'll be fine," she protested earnestly. "It's nothing."
"Then your visit to the healers will be brief, won't it?" Daria scowled at him and Qui-Gon smiled, laying his hand against the small of her back and guiding her through the door. "Come now. Ease an old man's worries."
"Say hello to Master Che, won't you Daria? I'm sure she'll be thrilled to have you back in our midst once more," Obi-Wan taunted, knowing well that Daria had never gotten along with the Temple's stringent head healer.
To bed Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon instructed his padawan through their Force bond. Or I'll tell Master Che that Daria's injury was your doing.
A moment passed before he caught Obi Wan's sheepish reply.
Sorry, Master. I'm going.
To be continued...
A/N - I accept and welcome reviews in all forms! Thoughts, criticisms, wonderings, declarations, manifestos etc. I write in forum because I want to hear from my readers! Hope to hear from you.