There only seemed to be one person as angry as Obi Wan at the funeral. The man stood inconspicuously in the back row, his well cut cloak speaking of wealth, his bearing speaking of authority, but only on a second glance. Obi Wan had only noticed him because of the sparks in his eyes that jumped from the shadows of his face, mirroring Obi Wan's own anger as well as the sparks that flew upward from the pyre.
The council had always been at odds with Qui Gon Jinn, brushing away his voice much more frequently than a man of the same position and experience should expect. Obi Wan had never thought this unusual until now, blaming it on his master's rebellious nature. But did the council owe so much disdain to him that they couldn't even show respect during his funeral? To a man who had served faithfully as a Jedi for his whole life, helped countless life forms across the galaxy, finally perished in the line of duty on a remote planet, and even in death had every particle of himself centered in the Force? Did he deserve a funeral where customary silence was apparently beyond the participants' abilities to feign respect? Obi Wan's own grief tainted memories of the man who had mentored him for the past seven years fanned him into uncharacteristic resentment of the council. The man in the back watched him, and as his anger increased so did the man's.
The boy beside Obi Wan began speaking to him and Obi Wan softly answered his questions, hoping it would quiet as well as comfort him. He held tightly to his temper, forgiving the youngling his indiscretion. Obi Wan's eyes dropped to the floor and he tried to find his calm center and tune out the whispers of others far older that surrounded him. If they didn't respect the man in the pyre in front of him, at least he could show that he did.
The man in the shadows seemed to have other ideas. He stepped up next to the pyre with a purposeful grace. The sharp outlines of his face and clothes were dark against the jumping flames. He wore a lightsaber at his belt. Was he a Jedi? Obi Wan wondered.
"Though I will speak to the council in the future for their negligence toward members of their order, that is not an appropriate subject for the present time. Nor is it the time for the circulation of whispered rumors about the manner of this man's death." He stared haughtily around the room. "Only in complete silence can peace or acceptance be found in the face of this tragedy. Only by it can we honor him. All those who apparently disagree with this statement are encouraged to leave."
His eyes wandered from where they had been roaming the crowd haughtily and found the familiar face within the bright blaze. They gazed with a tenderness and longing that made Obi Wan's heart hurt all over again, some of the numbness and anger that had consumed him subsiding to make room for it. The man made his way just as purposefully down from the dais. His eyes met Obi Wan's, and he gave a very slight nod. Obi Wan ducked his head in return. Then the man faded back into the shadows again.
No one stirred or uttered so much as a sigh for the rest of the funeral. Each person faded away silently as the hour grew later and later, as the fire died into bright coals. Anakin had long since been dragged off to bed by Padme. The coals faded, rippled, and crumbled. The air blew over Theed from the sea, cold and briny. Obi Wan shivered and wrapped his master's cloak more tightly around him. Force, it even still smelled like him. Obi Wan suddenly felt very weak, as weak as he had felt in the moment that he had watched his master give his last breath. He slid to his knees.
He heard the quiet tread of boots behind him. He jumped. He had thought he was alone by now. It was the early hours of the morning. A hand was being extended to him. He took it, rising hurriedly. He recognized the man from the back of the crowd. His face burned. He bowed his head, hoping that the man would leave him without reprimanding him for his lack of attention to duty, or his un-Jedi-like moment of weakness.
The man stayed at his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You have already shown the strength and loyalty of your character tonight, young knight. Stay strong for a little longer." They again stood in silence.
An hour later the last coal died. Obi Wan wandered back through the starlit night in a daze, the other man trailing a distance behind him. He made his way up the steps, nearly stumbling, and looked back to see the shadow of the man, who had paused at the foot of the steps. The shadow waited until he reached the palace doors before moving on.
Inside the front hall he greeted Queen Amidala who sent him off to a room next to where she had placed Anakin for the night. His apprentice. That idea would take some adjusting to, but he would do it for Qui Gon. Master Yoda waited almost... anxiously, (no that was ridiculous,) outside his door. The small green Jedi master relaxed as he spotted Obi Wan.
"More questions about this warrior, the council has. Request your presence we do, in two days."
"I will be there, Master." They could have just sent a communicae. But Obi Wan kept his puzzlement to himself. "Who was the man who spoke at the funeral, Master?"
"Count Dooku." Yoda replied simply, his tone indicating vast discomfort. "Advise caution, I do. Share the same views as the council, he does not."
"Neither did Qui Gon," Obi Wan said softly, but let the matter drop. Qui Gon's former master? He had finally met the man and not even known it. He couldn't help hoping that Dooku would remain for a few more days on Naboo. Just being around someone who knew Qui Gon as well as he had provided some kind of small solace. Perhaps that might make the next few days almost bearable.