LXVI: Whispering

Even silence is better than this, thought Qui-Gon as he strode through the Temple. Although such things were discouraged, rumours spread quickly within the Order, especially around the Padawans. The Master wasn't surprised that everyone knew about the… situation with Xanatos, but that didn't mean he was pleased.

He walked passed a group of younger Jedi, probably either senior Padawans, or recently knighted, that had been speaking quietly amongst each other. They glanced at him, looking almost guilty, and although he didn't look back he got the idea that they resumed their frantic whispering once he had stridden by them.

LXVII: Haunting

He almost wished that the ones who scrutinized him constantly would understand. Could they, especially the young ones, know what it was like to be betrayed by the boy you thought of as a son? Did they know what it was like to fight him not in the typical, lighthearted sparring that usually came out of their training sessions, but in the harsh, brutal meeting of two enemies?

Did they spend their nights awake seeing those taunting eyes? Were they haunted by mental ghosts that claimed he had failed? Did see their betrayer at every turn?

Somehow, he thought not.

LXVIII: Lingering

He finally arrived back at his quarters, breathing a sigh of short-lived relief. Although he was free from the scrutiny of fellow Jedi, here he had to face himself, and the ghosts that lingered here, memories not quite ready to move on.

Qui-Gon glanced around. Everything seemed to have some connection to Xanatos, from the room where the boy had slept to the small kitchen unit, which hadn't smelled quite the same since his apprentice's first attempt cooking.

Stepping into it, he inhaled deeply. The charred smell still remained.

Like everything else, it wasn't quite ready to move on yet.

LXIX: Echoing

Qui-Gon stumbled out of the area. Why couldn't he move on? Why was everything connecting to Xanatos?

"Do you really have that much control over me?" His voice bounced off the walls. "Why can't I just forget?" The words echoed, throwing the final one to his ears for what seemed like forever. It felt as though he was trapped, but where could he run to?

He dropped to his knees, his breaths magnified by the hollowness he felt, and Qui-Gon couldn't help but wonder if his lifetime would repeat like this, just a cycle of imitations –echoes, really- of Xanatos.

LXX: Murmuring

At last, the Master settled down in an attempt to meditate. Almost immediately the Force surrounded him, immersing him in its endless strength.

There will be a respite, it seemed to sing, You will move on.

"When?" His voice seemed louder than before, in this place where silence was sacred. "When will this end?"

Time is of no importance.

"Time is everything! Of course it matters." He knew he sounded impatient, but the Master couldn't conquer his emotions.

There was no answer, only a continued feeling of peace as the Force swirled constantly around him, continuing to murmur its riddles.