Chapter One
Qui-Gon Jinn turned.
Silently he watched as the shuttle took off and disappeared back into the sky. He would have given anything to be going with it. Be gone back to the war torn planet where he had just finished negotiating a gruelling peace treaty. Anything but be back here. Home.
He had sensed the other passengers' curiosity, their almost burning desire to see more of the Jedi Temple. Qui-Gon tilted his head at the irony. They were straining to get in. He was straining to get away. What would they have said if he had told them that he would readily swap places with them? The Council would certainly have an apoplectic fit if they suddenly found a bunch of tourists scurrying through the Temple halls, but, while the idea of giving the Council a collective fit appealed to him greatly, Qui-Gon shook the ridiculous idea from his mind.
Instead he turned to face the inevitable. He paid not the smallest amount of attention to the other Jedi occupying the large hanger bay as he forged a path between them. Many were leaving for or returning from their own missions around the galaxy.
With only ten thousand Jedi Knights existing within the Order, they were often on the move, seldom returning to the Temple for any length of time. Except to hear from the Council as to where they needed to be sent next.
The landing bay never slept.
Qui-Gon felt rather than saw a few of the other Jedi glance his way, but he kept his cobalt eyes fixed straight ahead, not turning to meet their gazes or inviting greeting. He had no desire to spend any time of the day with an old acquaintance should he spot one. He exited the hanger through a vaulted archway and entered the Temple proper, moving swiftly through the hushed, sculpted hallways.
Home again.
Just in time for the next instalment of this hated yearly ritual.
Qui-Gon gated a harsh sigh of frustration. Six years, six years had now passed since the loss of Xanatos and the pain of it still resounded inside him like it was yesterday, refusing to blunt with the passage of years. Maybe, he mused bitterly, because he just couldn't be left in peace. The wounds were reopened with stinging salt each time the Council insisted on his return to choose another Padawan Learner. An effort that achieved nothing except to cause further pain and disappointment for all parties involved.
He could sense the Council's growing frustration with his perceived stubbornness-yet another vendetta by the 'maverick' of the Order. Qui-Gon sighed. It wasn't quite like that. He wasn't ignoring them deliberately this time. He just couldn't obey. It was as if they expected him to be able to just switch off all the hurt that existed inside him and move on.
But it just couldn't work like that. The loss of Xanatos had forever left it's mark upon him.
That was the price of love, he surmised.
And Qui-Gon had loved his Padawan. Like he had been his own son, he had loved him.
Drawing a long breath into his lungs, the Jedi Master quickly reached out for the peace theTemple had once offered. It swirled around him as he walked, filtering down with the soft light streaming from the soaring windows. Like a drowning man he soaked it in, letting it balm his soul as much as it could. The Temple had been the main home of the Jedi Order for millennia, ever since they had pledged their allegiance to the then fledgling Republic, vowing to protect and uphold its values of peace and honour in the galaxy. Countless millennia of teachings and knowledge, wisdom and strength came seeping from the very air. With so many Jedi in one place, the light of the Force was an almost tangible thing.
Qui-Gon's eyes lit upon the sculptures and historical reliefs carved into the polished marble on many of the walls. A lot of them depicted ancient battles. Strange in such a place, but fitting nontheless. Darkness had threatened to overtake the galaxy many times throughout the Jedis' long and eventful history. They had had many enemies, Qui-Gon's eye's flicked to one study in particular, one that depicted two sides battling each other with slashing lightsabers. None had been more deadly than the Sith.
Qui-Gon found it ironic that the Jedis' most dangerous enemy and the greatest threat ever known to the galaxy had originated from their own ranks.
Back in time immemorial, when those first ancient philosophers had discovered the presence of the Force and learned to listen to its will and control its energy, they had vowed even then only to use their new found powers for knowledge and defence. To protect. Slowly and carefully had they experimented until the first of the Jedi had been born. As space travel grew and the galaxy became more accessible, their numbers had swelled, going from strength to strength.
But even then there had been those unsatisfied with the studies made by the Jedi. A few of the more rash students had begun thirsting for more power experimenting ever more with forbidden studies. The Dark Side of the Force. Eventually, maddened and corrupted, they had split from the fledgling Order falling further and further into darkness, disappearing and spreading their teachings until they had re-emerged as the brotherhood of the Sith.
In two destructive wars they had battled the Jedi for supremacy, knowing it was only the Order that stood in the way of galaxy wide domination.
After many confrontations that had nearly torn the galaxy apart the Jedi had thrown down their ancient enemy. Just. The Sith had now been extinct for a millennia, a story now told only to send a chill up the spines of children in the crèche. Qui-Gon could only be glad of that.
He shook himself from his impromptu trip through history and continued on. An open door to his left drew his attention. Inside he spied a class of tiny initiates, younglings of about four to five standard years of age. Currents of the Force swirled haphazardly inside the room as the youngsters struggled with their control. Stuffed cushions wobbled uncertainly in the air above their heads. The Temple Master teaching the class stood in the middle, soothing and guiding their efforts.
Suddenly there was a distraught squeal and a cushion dropped from the air. This outburst of course distracted the rest of the children and the class Master was propmtly lost under a downpour of pillows.
Teaching Force control to the younger initiates was not an envied task among the Temple Masters.
Like all Jedi, these young initiates would have been identified as Force sensitive and brought to the Temple within six months following their birth. The Temple was the only home they had ever known. The Jedi the only family they would ever have. It was the same for Qui-Gon and every other Jedi he had ever met.
It had become the belief of the Order that only teaching from a young age could successfully sculpt a child's latent ability in the Force and give them the necessary control over their desires and emotions, letting go the anger and possessiveness that would tempt them to answer the call of the Dark Side. The mistake of the Sith was not one the Jedi wished to repeat.
The children were shielded from the evils and temptations of the outside world within the serenity of the Temple walls until they were ready. By which time they would be chosen as a Padawan Learner by a single Jedi Master who would continue the child's training on a strictly one to one basis. With the power they could wield, no flaws could be overlooked in a potential Knight's development. The child travelled the galaxy at his or her Master's side, growing to adulthood and learning all they could until they were ready to take the Trials and become a Knight in their own right.
Qui-Gon's eyes roved over the class as the children straightened themselves out. Not all of them would become Jedi Knights. Not enough Masters existed in the Order for all of the children to be accepted as Padawan Learners. Which was why every potential Master was needed. With the Republic growing ever larger, more and more Jedi Knights would be needed to keep the peace.
Qui-Gon believed that this was part of the reason he was being put under such pressure to take on another Padawan.
He turned abruptly away from the children and marched on. The peace he had grabbed onto upon entering the Temple was tenuous at best. His only intent now was to reach his quarters as quickly as possible. He hoped at least to get settled before Master Yoda called him to view yet another group of hopeful initiates. Students who would only end up having their hopes dashed. His heart would not take another apprentice.
Pushing all thought from his mind, the Jedi Master waited until the lift moved up to the residential levels of the Temple and strode out into the airy corridor beyond. Many of the Knights and Masters were quartered up here along with their Padawans. The younger children lived in the crèches further down, nearer the training rooms and classes.
Moving along the blue floored corridor, Qui-Gon passed by many of the widely spaced doorways, each with their own recessed entrance and name plate haling the identity of the current occupant. The tall master turned a few corners on a much worn route, the light panels high overhead mimicking the light of the sun where none could reach so deep in the bowels of the Temple. Finally he found his own door.
Entering his rooms he absently slung his travel pack into a corner and stepped into the small kitchenette. As a Master who had once had an apprentice his apartment was a fair size, including a sitting area, the kitchenette and two bedrooms. Of course the latter was unnecessary now, but Qui-Gon kept away from the Temple for such long periods of time that he had had no time to request a smaller living space.
His eyes betrayed him by straying towards the locked door on his left. Xanatos' room. In his mind's eye he saw the door thrown wide open, as a tall gangly boy with raven hair slouching out, unhappy with the prospect of training early. His mind flashed forward and the same boy, grown now to an accomplished young man, striding out of that room, midnight blue eyes filled with eagerness at the prospect of his last mission as a Padawan—
Qui-Gon turned sharply away. He fought the very human urge to run, run as far from the memories as he could get. His heart felt like it had been slashed open. But he wasn't just human. He was Jedi. He didn't run. He closed his eyes tightly and calmed his breathing. Opening them and carefully avoiding seeing anything but what was in front of him, Qui-Gon reached into a cupboard and pulled down a pack of his favourite tea. He was pleased when his hand didn't tremble. He had become very practiced in locking away his emotions. Immediately the strong aroma of the sapir leaf filled the air. Gratefully he inhaled its rich scent, letting the tea's soothing qualities seep down though his senses. It was one of the few things he had permitted himself to miss about the Temple and he was going to need it if he was going to get through the next couple of hours.
But hardly had he set the water to boiling when he noticed that the light on his communications console was flashing. A brief glance told him that he was wanted right away down in the training arenas.
Qui-Gon ground his teeth together. Yoda was more persistent than ever this year, it seemed.
The tall Master pinched the bridge of his strong, crooked nose forcing back his resntment. He did not need this. But the fact remained. He was here and he had a duty to perform. All he had to do was go down there, view a few sparring matches then he could leave again. The Senate itself had requested his services. Some sort of mining dispute had arisen on the planet Bandomeer between the giant Offworld and Arconan Mining Corporations. The Senate wanted him in particular to settle it.
Despite the fact that he had not yet rested from his last journey, Qui-Gon had already agreed. A transport carrying mining workers was leaving for the small backwater planet that evening and Qui-Gon planned to be on it. With any luck he would be away from the Temple again by tonight and well away from the disappointment in Yoda's eyes when the ancient Master realised that he was once again leaving alone.
Reassuring himself with that thought, Qui-Gon put his cup down and walked back out of the door.
The large training room buzzing when Qui-Gon arrived. Groups of young students filled the edges of the large space. They were not the students here to hopefully win the right of becoming Qui-Gon's Padawan today, this crowd was here simply to support and revel in the excitement of the event.
Qui-Gon paused just outside the door, taking a moment to survey the scene while he still had the luxury of being unnoticed. Sure enough, through the crowds he could see a handful of older students waiting at one end of the room. The silver hilts of their training 'sabres were clutched nervously in their young hands as they stood on the edge of the arena. They were a mixed bunch, haling from planets all around the vast reaches of the Galactic Republic. All different but at the same time, all very much the same. All Jedi students, all on the same path. Each with similar goals and aspirations. This was no more firmly represented than in the way they were dressed. Each student donned the standard, plain cream tunics favoured by the Order, with the same brown leather boots and sturdy utility belts. For those students whose species grew hair, like the human younglings, their locks were cut short in the style of the Jedi apprentice, unremarkable save for a thin braid of hair that was grown from behind the right ear, a symbol of their status as learners. The braid would remain unmarked until the student that wore it was chosen by a Master as his or her Padawan Learner. Only then would a single, tiny bead be added to symbolise the advancement in their training.
Qui-Gon's eyes slid over the group. No beads would be added today.
Deciding that procrastination was not his style, Qui-Gon straightened and made his delayed entrance into the room.
The room immediately grew hushed. Dozens of students turned towards him with eager eyes. He ignored them, seeming not to notice, walking straight until he stood with the other viewing Knights and Masters on the far side of the large training room. He settled himself silently, and very reluctantly, beside Yoda.
The diminutive green Master blinked his large eyes in silent greeting. The long ears tilted forward as he studied Qui-Gon. As always Qui-Gon could sense the power radiating from the small body, the light of the Force all but shone through the wise, wrinkled countenance of the oldest, most respected Jedi in the Order.
He nodded his own greeting out of respect but nevertheless stayed rigidly silent. Yoda may be the unspoken leader of the Jedi Council and the mentor who had held his respect since before he could walk, but that didn't mean Qui-Gon had to like his constant 'requests' to be here.
The noise throughout the rest of the room had risien again. The students all knew it was about to start. Who would be chosen? Would one of them finally be able to catch the eye of the great Qui-Gon Jinn?
Qui-Gon stared out of a window, occupying his mind with the mission to come and willing the time to pass.
He was aware of Yoda calling for silence and signalling for the matches to begin with a simple wave of one clawed hand. A pair of students stepped forward into the centre of the room, bowed to the observing Masters and then to each other before beginning to spar, powering up their lightsabers and crossing the glowing laser blades.
A bird flew past the window.
Yoda cleared his throat irritably. Qui-Gon felt the lash of his disapproval. "Good grace to watch the younglings, you might have, Qui-Gon," he rebuked. "Hurt their feelings, you will, by wallowing in your own. Selfish I never thought you were and Jedi Master you are." So act like it.The last Yoda did not say but the implication was there.
Stung, Qui-Gon turned back to the students. Then the stirrings of anger came. He was tempted to point out that it was entirely Yoda's fault that he was there at all. Any disappointment caused was his responsibility to bear. His rational side quashed the feeling quickly. Yoda was right. He was a Master and these students had done nothing to deserve his poor opinion. He could not see them lose heart just because of his personal troubles. He would at least watch and appreciate the effort these children had put in. Drawing on the Force he stretched his senses out towards them, feeling for their thoughts and emotions as they moved.
Sparring like this was considered the best way for a student to display his or her skills to a prospective Master. It proved how well the student could wield their blade-essential for defence in a turbulent galaxy. But most importantly of all it displayed the student's ability to listen to the Force and their willingness to let it guide their actions purely, free from any anger or resentment towards their opponent.
The blades tangled and hissed as the present antagonists came together. Despite the fierce sounds, the sabres used here were training models only. He doubted any of the students here had built a real blade yet. Creating the weapon of a Jedi was a serious and sacred event. To build a lightsabre one needed a great deal of skill and mastery of the Force. Once constructed the weapon was as unique as the warrior who wielded it – the only treasure a Jedi truly owned in their unpredictable lives. Lives of no possession.
No attachment.
As it should be. To live otherwise on this path risked dangerous emotion, possessiveness, fear of loss and thus the Dark Side. It was a cold fact and Qui-Gon had learned it the hard way.
And he had learned it well, even though it had cost him his heart.
Quickly he turned his thoughts back to the fresh faced students duelling before him. Dummy blades aside, the bouts were fiercely competitive. Each candidate doing their very best to impress.
Winners were elated. The losers crestfallen, fully believing that their chance of becoming a Padawan this day was over. Qui-Gon watched them all, nodding graciously to each victor. He was not blind to the amount of talent being put before him today and he did genuinely hope that these students found worthy Masters in the future.
In the end only two human boys were left to perform. Qui-Gon cast his eyes over both as they stepped into the sparring area.
The first boy was stocky and sported a shock of white hair, the blond braid dangled just below his right shoulder. There was a certain arrogance in the way he moved as he bowed to the Masters. Qui-Gon didn't like what he saw but he acknowledged the boy as he had all the others before turning to the next student.
And there his eyes stayed. A strange jolt passed through him as a pair of clear, blue-green eyes met his. The Force swirled strongly around him, taking him completely off guard.
The boy was tall for his age, but still gangling, feet and joints too big and awkward. He looked to have suffered a recent growth spurt. Further up, russet hair crowned a youthful, comely face, framing the bright, unusual eyes – somehow familiar.
Qui-Gon shook himself quickly, realising he had been staring for too long. He gave the boy a brief nod then turned his gaze away, determined not to show or feel interest. The Force was still moving purposefully around him as if telling him there was something he should know or be doing. He ignored it. The boy was one of the elder students, he had probably seen him compete a few times in the past. That was all.
"Who is that?" the question slipped from his lips regardless and he kicked himself.
Yoda's large eyes were twinklng. "Obi-Wan Kenobi, his name is," he said and signalled quickly for the match to start.
Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon nodded his acknowledgement. The name meant nothing. Relaxing he turned his attention back to the battle unfolding before him.
The boys were moving around each other, feignting and retreating, testing one anothers defences. The blond boy shifted his feet just slightly. The motion might have gone unnoticed to the other student but Qui-Gon's experienced eye told him the battle was about to start. A split second later the stocky boy sprang, bringing his lightsabre down and round at the other boy with a ferocity that took Qui-Gon by surprise. Luckily for Kenobi, he was prepared and met the attack head on. The training sabres cracked and growled as they clashed then swept apart. Kenobi spun and lashed out, trying to get through his opponant's defences from the side. Again and again the boys came together, neither one giving an inch.
The other matches had been competitive but this was filled with a desperate and ferocious energy as both students struggled to gain the advantage.
They didn't like each other, these two, it didn't take the Force to know that. Rivals perhaps. Such things were not uncommon among the initiates as they went through their Temple training. Some of these rivalries could get quite fierce if Qui-Gon remembered rightly. The battle would be bitter to the end. And interesting. With such hard feelings it would be difficult for the boys to stay calm and not give in to their anger.
The glowing blue blades were now slashing back and forth in an electric display, movements becoming almost too fast to track as the boys used the Force to enhance their physical abilities. And then there was the unseen contest. Invisible energy was being buffeted back and forth. Power that made the weapons the boys wielded seem like harmless toys. Each of them had reached such a level of control that they were using blasts of Force energy to try and unbalance the other.
Both boys were extremely talented, but as the fight played out Qui-Gon found, to his dismay, that his eyes kept straying back to the Kenobi boy. Ungainliness aside when he was fighting the boy's movements were strong and held a certain grace. He was good. Probably the best he'd seen today. If he kept his concentration, Qui-Gon was fairly certain he would win this match.
The white-haired boy obviously felt this too, and Qui-Gon saw him whisper something to Kenobi when locked blades drew them close together. Qui-Gon could not hear what was said from where he sat but, judging from the sneer on the pale boy's flushed face, the comment was neither helpful nor friendly.
And the results were clear. Kenobi suddenly went on the offensive with a ferocity rarely seen in these sparring matches. A burst of unrestrained, raw power blasted his opponent across the room. The white-haired boy gave a yelp of surprise but to his credit managed to twist in the air and land back on his feet as Kenobi came after him. He was now hard pressed to regain his centre and defend himself against the relentless attack. Things were going very badly for him now. His tunic was scorched with fresh burns.
Nevertheless his plan had had the desired effect. He had made Kenobi lose control. Yoda sighed heavily and his long ears dipped.
Qui-Gon sighed too, feeling strangely disappointed himself. Talented or not, Kenobi had let his emotions get the better of him. A grave mistake for a Jedi. Control was the key. Only a serene mind could be fully open to the Will of the Force. Openings began to appear in the boy's defences, all but neglected in his need to bring the other student down. Fair enough he had his opponent on the run, but a real, more experienced enemy would have taken advantage and dispatched him long ago.
Fortunately that wasn't the case here and the bout did not last much longer.
The white-haired boy (Bruck, did he hear them shouting?) had lost his lightsaber after a twisting move from Kenobi. He was forced to dive swiftly to retrieve it before his opponent was able to land a 'killing' blow. He managed. Just.
He should have saved the energy. Barely had he reactivated the weapon when Kenobi hammered into him with his full force. The answering block failed under the onslaught and both of the training blades crashed back into the blond boy, who went down with a cry of surprise and pain.
"Enough!" Yoda called, and it was over.
The observing crowd of initiates erupted into cheers. Some cheering more enthusiastically than others, depending on whom they had supported. Obi-Wan or Bruck.
Qui-Gon eyed the victor. Though exhausted Kenobi positively glowed. To him this had obviously been a very important match and he had triumphed. Or so he thought. In Qui-Gon's eyes, he had simply beaten his opponent with a weapon. He had completely lost the battle within himself. That had been the greater conflict by far. In Qui-Gon's eyes, Kenobi had very much been defeated.
The boy chose that moment to turn, meeting Qui-Gon's gaze across the room. His eyes were searching, wondering and Qui-Gon was careful to keep his expression neutral, giving him only a brief nod before turning away as if to speak with Yoda.
Out of the corner of his eye he continued to watch as the boy moved to celebrate with his friends-two other boys and a smaller Calamari girl. It was hard to tell who was the most elated. Despite everything Qui-Gon couldn't help twitching a smile at the scene.
"Very apt pupil, that one," Yoda said, obviously knowing full well where Qui-Gon's attention lay.
Qui-Gon tried hard to hide his surprise. Praise from Yoda was as rare as a rebuke, yet the little Master's voice held an unmistakable fondness.
He turned to find Yoda peering up at him. "His birthday soon. Thirteen he will be. Have to leave the Temple he will, if claimed he is not." Yoda's large eyes bored into his. "In search of an apprentice within that time, no other Masters come. Very sorry I will be, if lose him we must."
Qui-Gon opened his mouth in protest then snapped it shut. He glowered at the diminutive Master for a moment before breaking off the inevitable argument before it could begin. So that was his ploy, was it? Yoda wanted him to take this boy as his Padawan. So badly that the old Master was willing to stoop to play upon his guilt and sympathy. Accept the boy or reject him and destroy all of the young man's dreams. Qui-Gon knew already which way it must be. How dare the old troll put this on him!
Struggling with his irritation, the tall Master looked for a long while at the young student in question, not quite sure what Yoda saw there. Yes he was undoubtedly gifted but Qui-Gon had already seen the recklessness in him, the ambition, and that was a dangerous trait. He knew it to be so. Xanatos had been exactly the same.
Well Yoda would just have to find another solution to his little cause, for he would not take the boy and he refused to be made to feel guilty for it. Let Yoda find another fool.
And yet… there was something, something that still pulled at him. Cursing himself, Qui-Gon rose and went out.
Kenobi was just pulling on a fresh tunic and throwing his old one into the wash basket when Qui-Gon entered the shower rooms. The boy looked up as he came in and Qui-Gon was caught once more by the clear, open eyes. Frowning Qui-Gon wondered not for the first time why he was here.
Well, seeing as he was, he might as well say something. Ignoring the stirrings of hope that had appeared on the boy's face, he asked, "Who taught you to fight like that?"
The boy was confused by the question, obviously not knowing which way to take it. "What do you mean?" His voice was the softly cultured clipped Coruscanti accent, stronger than Qui-Gon's own. Travel had not diluted it.
"Students at the Temple rarely attack so viciously. They learn to defend, to wear one another down. They conserve their strength. Yet you fought…like a very dangerous man. You left yourself open to attack time and again, and relied upon the other boy to take the defensive stance."
"I wanted to end it quickly," Obi-Wan answered. "The Force allowed it."
A standard answer. Qui-Gon remained unmoved. "I'm not so sure. You cannot always rely upon your enemy to take the defensive stance. Your fighting style is dangerous, too risky."
"You could teach me better." The boy's voice was filled with certainty as he tried to stare Qui-Gon down.
Qui-Gon bowed his head and very nearly smiled. This one was tenacious, he'd give him that. "Perhaps I could," he said. Then the ice around his heart snapped back into place and he levelled his gaze. "Or perhaps no one could. You were angry with the other boy. I sensed anger in both of you."
"That's not why I wanted to win," Obi-Wan's tone was earnest. I did it for you… Qui-Gon could read the words all over his face.
The Master studied him for a long moment, reaching past the surface with his senses, searching the boy's soul. He had a good and loyal heart, if a little turbulent, and a genuine desire to please. He could see why Yoda liked him.
But so had Xanatos always seemed, to him at any rate, and he knew all too well what had happened there. In the end he merely said, "In future fights, rein in your anger. A Jedi Knight never exhausts himself when battling a stronger foe. And never expect your enemy to miss an opportunity to do you harm."
With that Qui-Gon turned away and headed for the door. He sensed the sudden confusion and near panic behind him as Obi-Wan realised he was leaving.
"Wait!" the boy's voice brought him up short.
Qui-Gon glanced over his shoulder in time to see the young man fall to his knees.
"If I was wrong, it only means I need the best teacher. Will you take me with you?"
Qui-Gon turned back slowly, shocked that the young man would bow to his knees before him and beg for his acceptance. He was shocked further by his own feeling of pain and regret at the sight when for so long he thought himself incapable of feeling anything but bitterness. In that one moment he wished for things to be different. But the boy asked the impossible. He frowned for a long while before saying, "No."
"Qui-Gon Jinn, I will be thirteen in four weeks!" Obi-Wan appealed, eyes bright with the tears he was so stubbornly holding back. "You are my last chance to become a Jedi Knight."
Qui-Gon shook his head as if the motion would clear it of confusion. The Force was muddy and turbulent around him. He couldn't think clearly. All he knew was that something impossible was happening, something about this boy was calling to him, pulling at the broken pieces of his heart. But he couldn't do it, he couldn't…
Xanatos' face rose in his mind and stabbed him. Air was suddenly too thin.
He had to get out of here.
In parting all he could say was, "I think it's better not to train a boy to become a Knight if he has so much anger. There is a risk he will turn to the Dark Side." It sounded harsh to his own ears and he regretted it instantly but he had to let Kenobi know there was no chance. Swiftly he turned and strode back out of the door. But he wasn't fast enough to avoid hearing the boy's despairing words and they echoed in his ears as he retreated.
"I won't turn!"
But Qui-Gon kept on walking, not breaking stride until he was well out of sight and his emotions were back to a safe level of control. The battering they had just taken had taken him completely by surprise. Nothing had touched him for so long, he had been left unprepared.
Distantly he could sense a young heart trying to regain its own composure, and only marginally succeeding.
Oh, dearForce, Qui-Gon leaned against the nearest wall and buried his face in his hands. How had it all come to this?
(*)*(*)*(*)
Just have a little patience,
I'm still hurting from a love I lost,
I'm feeling your frustration
Like any minute all the pain will stop.