Once in a Lifetime - part 4/5
Headers, warnings, etc. in part 0/5
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Buzzing again. I brought myself out of the meditation, and found I was curled in a ball on the floor, with my hands clasped tightly around the back of my neck. My breathing was ragged. I'd never before left a meditation in a different physical position as when I started one, but then I'd never put myself through anything like this.
Buzzing.
The comm unit again, a reminder, not a message. It must be time. I uncurled and stood, my muscles protesting, joints and vertebrae popping.
I unwrapped the bundle of clothing that Anakin had sent to me. A black silk shirt and simple black leggings. Was he always this detail-oriented?
As I dressed, I reminisced about my life since that day nearly fifteen years ago. I'd wanted away from the Temple, of course. I remember walking back to our quarters, requesting a new room and a mission -- in that order. I only took what I needed, leaving most of our scant possessions behind. By the time I'd moved my essentials to the former, I'd received the details about my first mission as a Knight on my datapad.
There's little to remember after that. By chance I was assigned an undercover mission shortly thereafter to Defrell Prime. I excelled at my role, and the Jedi field agent with me realized that I was masking my own Force presence, and building a complete persona for my cover.
He was one of only a few Jedi skilled at such Force techniques himself, and began teaching me his specialty, never realizing that the sheer mental pain made it easier to exist outside of myself.
I soon surpassed his skill level, and began taking on missions that were more and more dangerous. I blended in with the scum and villainy of the galaxy, and was commended by the Council for doing so. By using what I called the "seamier" side of the Force, I learned to spy, infiltrate, suppress my own presence and even impersonate others by looks and voice. I became a key player in the effort to defuse Palpatine's elaborate network of darkness, and went everywhere from the Banking Guild's secret hideaway on Geonosis to the clone factories of Kamino.
My...specialized missions allowed me extremely high-level access to confidential records the galaxy over, and quite a bit of latitude and free time.
While Qui-Gon was busy shaving a day or a week off missions and using the time to attempt to track Xanatos from month- or even year-old leads with a young Padawan in tow, I quickly discovered where he was, and learned to predict where he would move to.
This was no longer the same nemesis that ran a corporate empire and dominated an entire planet on force of personality and by deadly cunning. Something had happened to Xanatos after his near-fatal escape on Telos -- some twenty-six years ago now, I realized with a jolt. He maintained a low profile, often staying in seedy quarters on backwater planets. He didn't seem to care that Qui-Gon was looking for him, although he knew he was being tracked, and he only moved on those (very) few occasions when Qui-Gon was actually close to discovering his whereabouts.
I didn't divulge Qui-Gon's secret obsession to the Council, but I didn't feed him any information on Xanatos, either. From my point of view, there was no way such a meeting would be beneficial to Qui-Gon, and it could be downright dangerous to Anakin.
Anakin.
One of the things I hadn't expected to miss when I was expelled from Qui-Gon's life was seeing Anakin grow up. I would catch glimpses of him and his Master at Temple -- all right, I conspired to catch glimpses -- and he grew like a weed. In height and in his grasp of the Force.
It wasn't long before I could call to him using the Force on those occasions when we were both at Temple, and he'd sneak away to meet with me. There weren't as many as I'd have liked -- I went on as many missions as I could, and Qui-Gon spent all their scant free time on his quest to find Xanatos. I was fond of meeting Anakin in the numerous Temple gardens, where we could talk undisturbed.
I didn't tell him outright that I knew where Xanatos was, but at some point several years into his Apprenticeship he figured it out.
"You're more attuned to him than Master Qui-Gon is," he stated flatly at one meeting.
There was always something disconcerting about how Anakin challenged authority -- and other people -- but I put it down to being raised by Qui-Gon. If I'd apprenticed the boy, he would surely be more demure and respectful.
"Perhaps..." I countered quite grumpily and left it at that, but he knew. While he was curious, I don't think he was in any hurry to meet Xanatos for himself, and never asked me for specifics.
At another meeting a few years later I said, "Anakin...let me know if by chance you are ever close to finding him. You have my comm frequency. Qui-Gon isn't thinking rationally about this, you know."
I didn't know how he would take me criticizing Qui-Gon, even with such a gentle statement. But he only nodded. His eyes were sad. "I know, but it makes him happy when he thinks we are coming close."
It was then that I realized just how much Anakin knew. He was curious, smart, and more gifted in raw Force talent than anyone of his generation. I'd been meeting him through the years to let him know I was a resource if things went bad, when he'd known all along what the game was. My respect for -- and discomfort with -- him went up several notches.
"I'm sorry it turned out this way. I'd have liked to have been an... *official* part of your life, you know." I was surprised when I said it, but it was true. He gave me a sad smile and left. Our meetings were always short.
While I tried to stay in touch with Anakin, seeing him on as regular a basis as I could manage, he only contacted me a few times. I think he felt it was disloyal of him to do so. So when he did, it was with important news to impart.
One time was when he'd returned from a mission to Yavin at fourteen. On their way to the spaceport of the capital city, Anakin had felt a disturbance in the Force that only his senses were finely attuned enough to detect. Some powerful Force user was muting his or her presence. He'd made some excuse to Qui-Gon about stopping to pay off a contact, and told him he'd meet him at their ship. And then he'd circled behind Qui-Gon and kept his mental eyes open, soon finding the lurker following them.
It was Xanatos. He'd recognized the figure from holo pics Qui-Gon had showed him, and from his own clandestine research. His black hair was now streaked with silver, his face marred by faint scars, but he was dressed in characteristic black. He leaped from building rooftop to rooftop, keeping up easily with Qui-Gon's long stride through the dusty streets. Then, as Qui-Gon passed directly below him, he Force pushed a heavy piece of equipment from a warehouse roof down on him.
Except that the crate didn't land on Qui-Gon, it landed two steps behind and to his right, where his Padawan would normally have walked.
Qui-Gon looked up with his lightsaber raised, and Xanatos allowed himself to be seen, before disappearing into the teeming, crowded city with Force-enhanced speed.
Anakin quickly caught up to his Master, who'd extinguished his lightsaber and was standing mute as the startled crowd settled down, and the crate's six-armed green owner began screaming about her loss.
It got through to Qui-Gon, then, the danger he'd exposed them both to. Even as Anakin related the tale I wondered again about Xanatos' almost lethargic response. He could easily have killed Qui-Gon -- or he thought he could have -- but he hadn't bothered. Lethargic or indifferent, one thing seemed obvious: Purely by accident, they'd caught up to Xanatos, and his warning was clear. *Stay away.*
Qui-Gon gave up the quest after that, although he went on two personal trips to meet with "old friends." I didn't need an intelligence report to know where he was headed.
Another time when Anakin contacted me of his own volition, he was grown and nearly ready for Knighting at nineteen -- an astonishing accomplishment, considering his background. He and Qui-Gon had just returned from Tatooine. He'd been dreaming of his mother, and Qui-Gon took those dreams seriously, accompanying him to Tatooine in time to save her from certain death at the hands of an indigenous tribe.
In that instance, Qui-Gon had served him better than any other Jedi Master would have. I'd probably have told him not to center on his anxieties if I'd been his Master. His loyalty to Qui-Gon went up immeasurably after that -- it was a level of devotion that bordered on the dangerous.
But then what did that say about me, or about Qui-Gon himself? I kept my thoughts to myself as Anakin excitedly explained what had happened on his home planet.
I wasn't sure why he had asked to meet with me, but I felt a small and unaccustomed glow of contentment that another being wanted to relate an important piece of personal news to me. I think he wanted me to know Qui-Gon was all right and still grounded in the Living Force and the Light.
Whatever the reason, it was nice to sit and speak with him. I moved, those days...these days... almost as a ghost in the Temple. I went from one secret mission to another, more secret mission, and kept to myself when on Coruscant. I spent more time by far maintaining my network of contacts than connecting with fellow Jedi.
For once I could empathize with my old enemy. We were alike in our sterile, shiftless existences.
There had only been one time in fifteen years that I'd reached out to another -- and it had turned out rather badly.
Several years after Qui-Gon and I parted, a particularly nasty mission injury sustained after a fall into nest of gundarks necessitated an extended stay in the Healers' wing. It was there that I became infatuated by a newly appointed Healer named Desra Rau who was assigned to my rehabilitation. She was lovely, strong-willed and decisive, had a good sense of humor, and was obviously interested in me.
Anakin came by to visit with me in the infirmary at my behest, and he had grown so tall! I realized that nearly a year had passed since one of our infrequent meetings. I realized how alone I'd been keeping myself. I resolved in that instant to try and change things, even if the Force was screaming to me it was all wrong. I joked and talked a bit with Anakin and introduced the two, and when Anakin left I asked Des if I could see her when I was healed and out of her care.
We saw each other casually for several months, while I labored at physical therapy to regain my strength. I could tell she was beginning to care for me deeply, and I valued her friendship. I could also tell she was frustrated that I'd kept our relationship platonic. Finally, in her usual, direct manner, she asked if I would spend the night with her, and I accepted.
On the appointed evening, I arrived at her quarters wearing casual clothes and bearing a gift of a blooming plant from her home world. She made me dinner and we talked, then ended up on the couch, then in her bed. All the time we touched and undressed each other, the pounding, stabbing pain in my temple became worse, but I wasn't going to give into it, or to the feelings of wrongness and betrayal that were just as powerful. Why didn't I deserve this? Why must I still feel bound to Qui-Gon?
I'd sublimated my own physical desires since he and I parted through exhausting missions and meditations. On those rare occasions when the need became too much, I stroked myself quickly and efficiently, trying not to give into the bond's urge to think of Qui-Gon's large hands, his mouth, his sex. I sometimes succeeded.
But now I had a chance to be with another being -- one who actually desired me. Des was willing and excited, and I rolled us until I lay atop her, kissing her deeply and parting her legs with mine.
And then I knew I was going to be sick. Oh, not good.
At least I had enough of a warning to roll off her first before I threw up her dinner on the sheets.
As soon as I broke physical contact, the pain receded and the Force currents around me went back to their normal state, which meant disturbed but -- like the pain -- bearable again.
She was self-confident enough to realize the problem was with me, not her, but she was hurt when I wouldn't confide the whole truth to her. We parted with her thinking that I was only still pining for my old Master, and that was partly true.
The end of our...courtship was the last time I sought out Jedi companionship outside the boundaries of a mission. Two years later she bonded with another Healer.
That aborted relationship had driven home to me my need for isolation. The pain and the bond had stunted me in a crucial way, and if I hadn't been a Jedi -- if duty hadn't been drilled into me nearly since birth -- I probably would have chosen to excuse myself from this dim and pain-filled existence. Just like Qui-Gon thought Xanatos had all those years ago.
I finished dressing and put my Jedi cloak over the new clothes, pulled the hood up over my fine-textured hair, and set out for Qui-Gon's quarters.
* * *
When I got to Qui-Gon's quarters, Anakin was waiting for me. I was nearly in role now, and had wrapping myself in the Force presence I'd remembered on Bandomeer and Telos as surely as I'd wrapped myself in these clothes. He met me in a large sitting area with multiple cushions, and I cued him to check my mental work as I shucked the robe and donned the plasmer mask.
He closed his eyes and I felt him skim over my consciousness; then his eyes flashed open in surprise. He knew I was good, but altering one's own presence in this way, along with voice and mannerisms, was outside of most Jedi's talents. I'd wondered once or twice if this skill was even of the Light side, but the Council never questioned it, as it often served their purposes.
He nodded once, and I felt an incongruous bit of pride that I'd unsettled him, even frightened him a bit.
But this was what he'd wanted.
He turned and strode through Qui-Gon's bedroom door, and I dropped the last vestiges of Obi-Wan Kenobi as I followed.
The lights were dimmed -- maybe more for Anakin's comfort than Qui-Gon's, who could no longer see.
I'd steeled myself for any way Qui-Gon might look, as I knew his disease could often degrade the body as well as the mind, but he didn't look much different than the last time I'd caught a furtive glance, some three years ago in the Temple's hangar.
He was thinner -- that was to be expected of anyone bedridden for months -- and the hair was now more silver than silver-brown, but this wasn't some barely breathing monster. This was my Master. He slept uneasily, often gasping, and his eyes fluttered.
Anakin approached the bed and leaned over to him. "Master." Qui-Gon jerked awake and grabbed for Ani, clinging to his arm. "Master I found him."
Qui-Gon gasped, "Xani? You found him?"
"Yes, where you suspected he was. It took some...aggressive persuasion, but he agreed to see you. He's here."
"What?" Sightless eyes scanned the room and I felt him reach out with the Force in a jerky, frail way. He gasped when he "found" me.
"Qui-Gon, my old Master," I said haughtily, and Anakin glared at me. He didn't know what I'd planned, what I needed to do to make this work. Qui-Gon was sick and delusional, but not stupid. Anakin annoyed me -- arrogant Jedi pup, and I waved him away. Stupid Jedi, no wonder I left the Order. I only wondered why I'd wasted my time in their petrifying ranks as long as I had.
Reluctantly, with another glare almost comical in its intensity, Anakin pulled his arm from Qui-Gon's grasp and backed away from the bed.
Qui-Gon quieted and attempted to sit upright. He failed and the slight exertion left him breathless. I didn't help, but I did draw nearer. My boot heels made heavy thuds on the stone floor.
"Well, well. My Master isn't quite so powerful now as when he ripped my life away."
"Xani, Xanatos..." He coughed roughly and tried again. "Xan... I've wanted to talk to you for so long now. I have so much to say."
"Well, you've covered every iteration of my name there is. What is it you want to say so badly before I decide I'm as mad as you are for ever coming here?"
"Xan..." He calmed himself with effort, and then whispered hoarsely, "I'm sorry, so sorry."
"That's a good start, Qui-Gon. Perhaps you could be more specific. There are things you did to my family and to me that require more than a general apology. There are things you did for which you should pay with your life... but it looks like that will happen soon enough."
Again I felt Anakin's anger, and fixed him with a glare as he took a step closer. He thought I'd planned this as some kind of twisted revenge. I pointed towards the door and he withdrew again to the wall, but didn't leave.
Qui-Gon reached out, and I allowed him to grasp my hand and pull me to towards him to sit on the bed.
"I love you." The words came from his throat as a forceful moan, more of a haunted cry than a statement. "I wanted so badly to lifebond with you, but I never told you. I thought it wasn't my place while I was still your Master."
I growled and pulled my hand free roughly, but remained sitting on the bed as Qui-Gon continued.
"You were so bright in the Force! If I'd told you, if you'd known, maybe you wouldn't have chosen the Dark path. Maybe I could have been your family."
He stopped then, and his breath became a series of panicked gasps. He'd planned this out, I realized, had probably planned what he wanted to say for years. Now that it was done he faltered. Exhaustion got the better of him, and his head lolled back on the bed as he closed his bloodshot eyes. Tears flowed from them, and streaked his lined face. He flailed about weakly for my hand. I allowed him to grasp it again; the hand that pulled mine to his lips was trembling badly.
"Please..."
The plea was a groan that came from the core of his being and he began to shake. It was time to complete my mission and ease his pain.
I reached out with my free hand and softly traced his face, then wiped away one cheek's tears with my forefinger. His eyes shot open and turned towards me and he quieted again.
"Master," I said, my own voice rough, and suddenly I no longer needed to *be* Xanatos to say what must be said.
"Damn you, Qui-Gon. I've tried so hard to stay angry with you. Anger drives me. It's the only thing that keeps the pain away.
"But I chose my path. I could have done anything after we...parted, but I became *this*," I hissed.
I took Qui-Gon's hand and raised it to my face to kiss it. He hungrily stroked my face and gasped as his touch revealed the scars he'd only glimpsed on Yavin. "Oh, my Xan, what happened?"
"I highly recommend not diving into acid pools to escape capture, even if you are covered in a supposedly acid-proof polymist ointment." Sarcasm could hide the pain.
"Oh," he groaned. "I drove you to that, oh, Xani. Part of me died when I saw you fall."
I bowed my head and let him stroke me while I regained my resolve and pushed away the pain from his words.
"How is it that you still *love* me?" I replied. "I've not wanted you to see what I'd become. It's why I ran when you searched for me."
Qui-Gon became agitated again, and grasped my shoulder with all his failing strength. I felt him draw on the last of his energy to speak clearly. "How? Oh, how could I not love you? You are my *beautiful* Padawan, the only person I truly loved. I failed you. You don't know, can't *know* how many times I went over what happened on Telos, and all the events of all the years leading up to that moment to pluck out the times I failed as your Master. The Council was jealous of your abilities and your lineage...
"But please, please forgive an old man who only loves you. I thought..."
Again he stopped and struggled against a racking cough. I lifted his head up, then pulled him into my arms to give him relief. His head came to rest against my black silk shirt, and he grabbed onto the material.
His voice dropped to a whisper, but it was still steady. "I thought in my arrogance that if I could find you, if I could make you see the error of your ways, that it would bring you back to the Light. But that was vanity, because it was I who failed you all along..."
He broke off, and his face twisted as he fought to not cry, but I soon felt his harsh sobs against my chest.
"I... I put Obi-Wan and Anakin in harm's way tracking you, and if I'd ever driven you to hurt them, you would have been lost forever."
Oh, Master. What part of this was your illness talking, and what part did you really believe?
Force. Bandomeer... Did Qui-Gon *know* that Xanatos was on Bandomeer? How long *had* he been searching?
I shushed him, kissed his fingers, then laid him back gently and kissed his cheek and eyes.
He started to speak again, but I stopped him by stroking two fingers over his cracked and quivering lips.
"Master, I have done little worthwhile with my life, and I won't hear you apologize to me," I said and my own voice broke then. "I made my decisions knowing you loved me. I threw away that love, and our future.
"I still love you, Qui-Gon Jinn, and I'd give anything to have you back."
"Xani," he said softly, "you never lost me."
Those words broke my resolve, and I cried freely then. I leaned down for a kiss, which he returned with a contented sigh as best as he was able. The pain that was always a part of every action, every waking minute eased when I my lips touched his, and something crumbled in me and I pulled him into my arms again and held him tightly while I sobbed.
"Shhh, shhh," he comforted. "It's all right now, Xan, you're home. Please don't leave." I shook my head. "I mean after I'm gone, please don't leave the Temple. Stay. Ani will find a way. Please stay."
I nodded against his neck and wept as the pain receded even farther at this close contact. I railed against the irony of what I'd done to gain that contact -- and became aware of a new pain, a simple physical pain which sucked all the air from my chest and made a band across my throat as my cries became hitching breaths.
I finally pulled back, and thought for a wild second that he was gone. His face was so peaceful and his eyes were closed. Then Anakin was there and he lightly carded Qui-Gon's hair from his eyes and whispered, "Master Qui-Gon, it's time to rest now."
No! I'd forgotten about the plan, forgotten how this was a kindness to Qui-Gon. The bond -- no, *I* -- never wanted separation ever again. I grabbed Anakin's tunics and tried to push him away. My leverage was bad; he braced himself and didn't move. My panicked resolve crumbed as he stared me back down to reality. After a long moment I nodded to him, and carefully gathered Qui-Gon into my arms again.
"Rest, Qui-Gon," Anakin said again. "We're here and we won't leave. Just rest, Master."
I could feel the Force energy he placed into those words. It was more than a suggestion, yet the tone was gentle as if he were taming a wild beast. Qui-Gon's eyes fluttered, then he relaxed fully, except for one hand, which still lightly gripped mine. His breathing slowed, and I instinctually sought his Force Presence. It was peaceful, joyous even, as it slipped quietly away. I felt then, in the last few seconds of his existence, what I'd never felt from him before. Unconditional love.
Without a thought, I sent my own Presence after his.
* * *
TBC...
Headers, warnings, etc. in part 0/5
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Buzzing again. I brought myself out of the meditation, and found I was curled in a ball on the floor, with my hands clasped tightly around the back of my neck. My breathing was ragged. I'd never before left a meditation in a different physical position as when I started one, but then I'd never put myself through anything like this.
Buzzing.
The comm unit again, a reminder, not a message. It must be time. I uncurled and stood, my muscles protesting, joints and vertebrae popping.
I unwrapped the bundle of clothing that Anakin had sent to me. A black silk shirt and simple black leggings. Was he always this detail-oriented?
As I dressed, I reminisced about my life since that day nearly fifteen years ago. I'd wanted away from the Temple, of course. I remember walking back to our quarters, requesting a new room and a mission -- in that order. I only took what I needed, leaving most of our scant possessions behind. By the time I'd moved my essentials to the former, I'd received the details about my first mission as a Knight on my datapad.
There's little to remember after that. By chance I was assigned an undercover mission shortly thereafter to Defrell Prime. I excelled at my role, and the Jedi field agent with me realized that I was masking my own Force presence, and building a complete persona for my cover.
He was one of only a few Jedi skilled at such Force techniques himself, and began teaching me his specialty, never realizing that the sheer mental pain made it easier to exist outside of myself.
I soon surpassed his skill level, and began taking on missions that were more and more dangerous. I blended in with the scum and villainy of the galaxy, and was commended by the Council for doing so. By using what I called the "seamier" side of the Force, I learned to spy, infiltrate, suppress my own presence and even impersonate others by looks and voice. I became a key player in the effort to defuse Palpatine's elaborate network of darkness, and went everywhere from the Banking Guild's secret hideaway on Geonosis to the clone factories of Kamino.
My...specialized missions allowed me extremely high-level access to confidential records the galaxy over, and quite a bit of latitude and free time.
While Qui-Gon was busy shaving a day or a week off missions and using the time to attempt to track Xanatos from month- or even year-old leads with a young Padawan in tow, I quickly discovered where he was, and learned to predict where he would move to.
This was no longer the same nemesis that ran a corporate empire and dominated an entire planet on force of personality and by deadly cunning. Something had happened to Xanatos after his near-fatal escape on Telos -- some twenty-six years ago now, I realized with a jolt. He maintained a low profile, often staying in seedy quarters on backwater planets. He didn't seem to care that Qui-Gon was looking for him, although he knew he was being tracked, and he only moved on those (very) few occasions when Qui-Gon was actually close to discovering his whereabouts.
I didn't divulge Qui-Gon's secret obsession to the Council, but I didn't feed him any information on Xanatos, either. From my point of view, there was no way such a meeting would be beneficial to Qui-Gon, and it could be downright dangerous to Anakin.
Anakin.
One of the things I hadn't expected to miss when I was expelled from Qui-Gon's life was seeing Anakin grow up. I would catch glimpses of him and his Master at Temple -- all right, I conspired to catch glimpses -- and he grew like a weed. In height and in his grasp of the Force.
It wasn't long before I could call to him using the Force on those occasions when we were both at Temple, and he'd sneak away to meet with me. There weren't as many as I'd have liked -- I went on as many missions as I could, and Qui-Gon spent all their scant free time on his quest to find Xanatos. I was fond of meeting Anakin in the numerous Temple gardens, where we could talk undisturbed.
I didn't tell him outright that I knew where Xanatos was, but at some point several years into his Apprenticeship he figured it out.
"You're more attuned to him than Master Qui-Gon is," he stated flatly at one meeting.
There was always something disconcerting about how Anakin challenged authority -- and other people -- but I put it down to being raised by Qui-Gon. If I'd apprenticed the boy, he would surely be more demure and respectful.
"Perhaps..." I countered quite grumpily and left it at that, but he knew. While he was curious, I don't think he was in any hurry to meet Xanatos for himself, and never asked me for specifics.
At another meeting a few years later I said, "Anakin...let me know if by chance you are ever close to finding him. You have my comm frequency. Qui-Gon isn't thinking rationally about this, you know."
I didn't know how he would take me criticizing Qui-Gon, even with such a gentle statement. But he only nodded. His eyes were sad. "I know, but it makes him happy when he thinks we are coming close."
It was then that I realized just how much Anakin knew. He was curious, smart, and more gifted in raw Force talent than anyone of his generation. I'd been meeting him through the years to let him know I was a resource if things went bad, when he'd known all along what the game was. My respect for -- and discomfort with -- him went up several notches.
"I'm sorry it turned out this way. I'd have liked to have been an... *official* part of your life, you know." I was surprised when I said it, but it was true. He gave me a sad smile and left. Our meetings were always short.
While I tried to stay in touch with Anakin, seeing him on as regular a basis as I could manage, he only contacted me a few times. I think he felt it was disloyal of him to do so. So when he did, it was with important news to impart.
One time was when he'd returned from a mission to Yavin at fourteen. On their way to the spaceport of the capital city, Anakin had felt a disturbance in the Force that only his senses were finely attuned enough to detect. Some powerful Force user was muting his or her presence. He'd made some excuse to Qui-Gon about stopping to pay off a contact, and told him he'd meet him at their ship. And then he'd circled behind Qui-Gon and kept his mental eyes open, soon finding the lurker following them.
It was Xanatos. He'd recognized the figure from holo pics Qui-Gon had showed him, and from his own clandestine research. His black hair was now streaked with silver, his face marred by faint scars, but he was dressed in characteristic black. He leaped from building rooftop to rooftop, keeping up easily with Qui-Gon's long stride through the dusty streets. Then, as Qui-Gon passed directly below him, he Force pushed a heavy piece of equipment from a warehouse roof down on him.
Except that the crate didn't land on Qui-Gon, it landed two steps behind and to his right, where his Padawan would normally have walked.
Qui-Gon looked up with his lightsaber raised, and Xanatos allowed himself to be seen, before disappearing into the teeming, crowded city with Force-enhanced speed.
Anakin quickly caught up to his Master, who'd extinguished his lightsaber and was standing mute as the startled crowd settled down, and the crate's six-armed green owner began screaming about her loss.
It got through to Qui-Gon, then, the danger he'd exposed them both to. Even as Anakin related the tale I wondered again about Xanatos' almost lethargic response. He could easily have killed Qui-Gon -- or he thought he could have -- but he hadn't bothered. Lethargic or indifferent, one thing seemed obvious: Purely by accident, they'd caught up to Xanatos, and his warning was clear. *Stay away.*
Qui-Gon gave up the quest after that, although he went on two personal trips to meet with "old friends." I didn't need an intelligence report to know where he was headed.
Another time when Anakin contacted me of his own volition, he was grown and nearly ready for Knighting at nineteen -- an astonishing accomplishment, considering his background. He and Qui-Gon had just returned from Tatooine. He'd been dreaming of his mother, and Qui-Gon took those dreams seriously, accompanying him to Tatooine in time to save her from certain death at the hands of an indigenous tribe.
In that instance, Qui-Gon had served him better than any other Jedi Master would have. I'd probably have told him not to center on his anxieties if I'd been his Master. His loyalty to Qui-Gon went up immeasurably after that -- it was a level of devotion that bordered on the dangerous.
But then what did that say about me, or about Qui-Gon himself? I kept my thoughts to myself as Anakin excitedly explained what had happened on his home planet.
I wasn't sure why he had asked to meet with me, but I felt a small and unaccustomed glow of contentment that another being wanted to relate an important piece of personal news to me. I think he wanted me to know Qui-Gon was all right and still grounded in the Living Force and the Light.
Whatever the reason, it was nice to sit and speak with him. I moved, those days...these days... almost as a ghost in the Temple. I went from one secret mission to another, more secret mission, and kept to myself when on Coruscant. I spent more time by far maintaining my network of contacts than connecting with fellow Jedi.
For once I could empathize with my old enemy. We were alike in our sterile, shiftless existences.
There had only been one time in fifteen years that I'd reached out to another -- and it had turned out rather badly.
Several years after Qui-Gon and I parted, a particularly nasty mission injury sustained after a fall into nest of gundarks necessitated an extended stay in the Healers' wing. It was there that I became infatuated by a newly appointed Healer named Desra Rau who was assigned to my rehabilitation. She was lovely, strong-willed and decisive, had a good sense of humor, and was obviously interested in me.
Anakin came by to visit with me in the infirmary at my behest, and he had grown so tall! I realized that nearly a year had passed since one of our infrequent meetings. I realized how alone I'd been keeping myself. I resolved in that instant to try and change things, even if the Force was screaming to me it was all wrong. I joked and talked a bit with Anakin and introduced the two, and when Anakin left I asked Des if I could see her when I was healed and out of her care.
We saw each other casually for several months, while I labored at physical therapy to regain my strength. I could tell she was beginning to care for me deeply, and I valued her friendship. I could also tell she was frustrated that I'd kept our relationship platonic. Finally, in her usual, direct manner, she asked if I would spend the night with her, and I accepted.
On the appointed evening, I arrived at her quarters wearing casual clothes and bearing a gift of a blooming plant from her home world. She made me dinner and we talked, then ended up on the couch, then in her bed. All the time we touched and undressed each other, the pounding, stabbing pain in my temple became worse, but I wasn't going to give into it, or to the feelings of wrongness and betrayal that were just as powerful. Why didn't I deserve this? Why must I still feel bound to Qui-Gon?
I'd sublimated my own physical desires since he and I parted through exhausting missions and meditations. On those rare occasions when the need became too much, I stroked myself quickly and efficiently, trying not to give into the bond's urge to think of Qui-Gon's large hands, his mouth, his sex. I sometimes succeeded.
But now I had a chance to be with another being -- one who actually desired me. Des was willing and excited, and I rolled us until I lay atop her, kissing her deeply and parting her legs with mine.
And then I knew I was going to be sick. Oh, not good.
At least I had enough of a warning to roll off her first before I threw up her dinner on the sheets.
As soon as I broke physical contact, the pain receded and the Force currents around me went back to their normal state, which meant disturbed but -- like the pain -- bearable again.
She was self-confident enough to realize the problem was with me, not her, but she was hurt when I wouldn't confide the whole truth to her. We parted with her thinking that I was only still pining for my old Master, and that was partly true.
The end of our...courtship was the last time I sought out Jedi companionship outside the boundaries of a mission. Two years later she bonded with another Healer.
That aborted relationship had driven home to me my need for isolation. The pain and the bond had stunted me in a crucial way, and if I hadn't been a Jedi -- if duty hadn't been drilled into me nearly since birth -- I probably would have chosen to excuse myself from this dim and pain-filled existence. Just like Qui-Gon thought Xanatos had all those years ago.
I finished dressing and put my Jedi cloak over the new clothes, pulled the hood up over my fine-textured hair, and set out for Qui-Gon's quarters.
* * *
When I got to Qui-Gon's quarters, Anakin was waiting for me. I was nearly in role now, and had wrapping myself in the Force presence I'd remembered on Bandomeer and Telos as surely as I'd wrapped myself in these clothes. He met me in a large sitting area with multiple cushions, and I cued him to check my mental work as I shucked the robe and donned the plasmer mask.
He closed his eyes and I felt him skim over my consciousness; then his eyes flashed open in surprise. He knew I was good, but altering one's own presence in this way, along with voice and mannerisms, was outside of most Jedi's talents. I'd wondered once or twice if this skill was even of the Light side, but the Council never questioned it, as it often served their purposes.
He nodded once, and I felt an incongruous bit of pride that I'd unsettled him, even frightened him a bit.
But this was what he'd wanted.
He turned and strode through Qui-Gon's bedroom door, and I dropped the last vestiges of Obi-Wan Kenobi as I followed.
The lights were dimmed -- maybe more for Anakin's comfort than Qui-Gon's, who could no longer see.
I'd steeled myself for any way Qui-Gon might look, as I knew his disease could often degrade the body as well as the mind, but he didn't look much different than the last time I'd caught a furtive glance, some three years ago in the Temple's hangar.
He was thinner -- that was to be expected of anyone bedridden for months -- and the hair was now more silver than silver-brown, but this wasn't some barely breathing monster. This was my Master. He slept uneasily, often gasping, and his eyes fluttered.
Anakin approached the bed and leaned over to him. "Master." Qui-Gon jerked awake and grabbed for Ani, clinging to his arm. "Master I found him."
Qui-Gon gasped, "Xani? You found him?"
"Yes, where you suspected he was. It took some...aggressive persuasion, but he agreed to see you. He's here."
"What?" Sightless eyes scanned the room and I felt him reach out with the Force in a jerky, frail way. He gasped when he "found" me.
"Qui-Gon, my old Master," I said haughtily, and Anakin glared at me. He didn't know what I'd planned, what I needed to do to make this work. Qui-Gon was sick and delusional, but not stupid. Anakin annoyed me -- arrogant Jedi pup, and I waved him away. Stupid Jedi, no wonder I left the Order. I only wondered why I'd wasted my time in their petrifying ranks as long as I had.
Reluctantly, with another glare almost comical in its intensity, Anakin pulled his arm from Qui-Gon's grasp and backed away from the bed.
Qui-Gon quieted and attempted to sit upright. He failed and the slight exertion left him breathless. I didn't help, but I did draw nearer. My boot heels made heavy thuds on the stone floor.
"Well, well. My Master isn't quite so powerful now as when he ripped my life away."
"Xani, Xanatos..." He coughed roughly and tried again. "Xan... I've wanted to talk to you for so long now. I have so much to say."
"Well, you've covered every iteration of my name there is. What is it you want to say so badly before I decide I'm as mad as you are for ever coming here?"
"Xan..." He calmed himself with effort, and then whispered hoarsely, "I'm sorry, so sorry."
"That's a good start, Qui-Gon. Perhaps you could be more specific. There are things you did to my family and to me that require more than a general apology. There are things you did for which you should pay with your life... but it looks like that will happen soon enough."
Again I felt Anakin's anger, and fixed him with a glare as he took a step closer. He thought I'd planned this as some kind of twisted revenge. I pointed towards the door and he withdrew again to the wall, but didn't leave.
Qui-Gon reached out, and I allowed him to grasp my hand and pull me to towards him to sit on the bed.
"I love you." The words came from his throat as a forceful moan, more of a haunted cry than a statement. "I wanted so badly to lifebond with you, but I never told you. I thought it wasn't my place while I was still your Master."
I growled and pulled my hand free roughly, but remained sitting on the bed as Qui-Gon continued.
"You were so bright in the Force! If I'd told you, if you'd known, maybe you wouldn't have chosen the Dark path. Maybe I could have been your family."
He stopped then, and his breath became a series of panicked gasps. He'd planned this out, I realized, had probably planned what he wanted to say for years. Now that it was done he faltered. Exhaustion got the better of him, and his head lolled back on the bed as he closed his bloodshot eyes. Tears flowed from them, and streaked his lined face. He flailed about weakly for my hand. I allowed him to grasp it again; the hand that pulled mine to his lips was trembling badly.
"Please..."
The plea was a groan that came from the core of his being and he began to shake. It was time to complete my mission and ease his pain.
I reached out with my free hand and softly traced his face, then wiped away one cheek's tears with my forefinger. His eyes shot open and turned towards me and he quieted again.
"Master," I said, my own voice rough, and suddenly I no longer needed to *be* Xanatos to say what must be said.
"Damn you, Qui-Gon. I've tried so hard to stay angry with you. Anger drives me. It's the only thing that keeps the pain away.
"But I chose my path. I could have done anything after we...parted, but I became *this*," I hissed.
I took Qui-Gon's hand and raised it to my face to kiss it. He hungrily stroked my face and gasped as his touch revealed the scars he'd only glimpsed on Yavin. "Oh, my Xan, what happened?"
"I highly recommend not diving into acid pools to escape capture, even if you are covered in a supposedly acid-proof polymist ointment." Sarcasm could hide the pain.
"Oh," he groaned. "I drove you to that, oh, Xani. Part of me died when I saw you fall."
I bowed my head and let him stroke me while I regained my resolve and pushed away the pain from his words.
"How is it that you still *love* me?" I replied. "I've not wanted you to see what I'd become. It's why I ran when you searched for me."
Qui-Gon became agitated again, and grasped my shoulder with all his failing strength. I felt him draw on the last of his energy to speak clearly. "How? Oh, how could I not love you? You are my *beautiful* Padawan, the only person I truly loved. I failed you. You don't know, can't *know* how many times I went over what happened on Telos, and all the events of all the years leading up to that moment to pluck out the times I failed as your Master. The Council was jealous of your abilities and your lineage...
"But please, please forgive an old man who only loves you. I thought..."
Again he stopped and struggled against a racking cough. I lifted his head up, then pulled him into my arms to give him relief. His head came to rest against my black silk shirt, and he grabbed onto the material.
His voice dropped to a whisper, but it was still steady. "I thought in my arrogance that if I could find you, if I could make you see the error of your ways, that it would bring you back to the Light. But that was vanity, because it was I who failed you all along..."
He broke off, and his face twisted as he fought to not cry, but I soon felt his harsh sobs against my chest.
"I... I put Obi-Wan and Anakin in harm's way tracking you, and if I'd ever driven you to hurt them, you would have been lost forever."
Oh, Master. What part of this was your illness talking, and what part did you really believe?
Force. Bandomeer... Did Qui-Gon *know* that Xanatos was on Bandomeer? How long *had* he been searching?
I shushed him, kissed his fingers, then laid him back gently and kissed his cheek and eyes.
He started to speak again, but I stopped him by stroking two fingers over his cracked and quivering lips.
"Master, I have done little worthwhile with my life, and I won't hear you apologize to me," I said and my own voice broke then. "I made my decisions knowing you loved me. I threw away that love, and our future.
"I still love you, Qui-Gon Jinn, and I'd give anything to have you back."
"Xani," he said softly, "you never lost me."
Those words broke my resolve, and I cried freely then. I leaned down for a kiss, which he returned with a contented sigh as best as he was able. The pain that was always a part of every action, every waking minute eased when I my lips touched his, and something crumbled in me and I pulled him into my arms again and held him tightly while I sobbed.
"Shhh, shhh," he comforted. "It's all right now, Xan, you're home. Please don't leave." I shook my head. "I mean after I'm gone, please don't leave the Temple. Stay. Ani will find a way. Please stay."
I nodded against his neck and wept as the pain receded even farther at this close contact. I railed against the irony of what I'd done to gain that contact -- and became aware of a new pain, a simple physical pain which sucked all the air from my chest and made a band across my throat as my cries became hitching breaths.
I finally pulled back, and thought for a wild second that he was gone. His face was so peaceful and his eyes were closed. Then Anakin was there and he lightly carded Qui-Gon's hair from his eyes and whispered, "Master Qui-Gon, it's time to rest now."
No! I'd forgotten about the plan, forgotten how this was a kindness to Qui-Gon. The bond -- no, *I* -- never wanted separation ever again. I grabbed Anakin's tunics and tried to push him away. My leverage was bad; he braced himself and didn't move. My panicked resolve crumbed as he stared me back down to reality. After a long moment I nodded to him, and carefully gathered Qui-Gon into my arms again.
"Rest, Qui-Gon," Anakin said again. "We're here and we won't leave. Just rest, Master."
I could feel the Force energy he placed into those words. It was more than a suggestion, yet the tone was gentle as if he were taming a wild beast. Qui-Gon's eyes fluttered, then he relaxed fully, except for one hand, which still lightly gripped mine. His breathing slowed, and I instinctually sought his Force Presence. It was peaceful, joyous even, as it slipped quietly away. I felt then, in the last few seconds of his existence, what I'd never felt from him before. Unconditional love.
Without a thought, I sent my own Presence after his.
* * *
TBC...