Disclaimer: Obviously we don't own this stuff.
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The Illusion of Truth
Qui-gon entered the building and held out his plastic ID card for the third time. The security guard checked it over with feigned boredom and handed it back. He checked a list.
"This says you have an appointment at 1:15 Mr. Jinn. If you'll just have a seat for a moment. I'm sure he'll see you soon." Qui-gon nodded and took one of the plush chairs situated against the wall. He shifted around in it trying to find a good position. It wasn't as comfortable as it looked.
Qui-gon put it out of his mind and drew upon the Force, meditating on this mission, the planet and more specifically Obi-wan. After awhile he pulled out of the trance and stifled a sigh. Obi-wan was on the planet, he was sure of that but Qui-gon couldn't contact him as he should have been able too.
Then there was the Council's operative on Earth, who was now, Qui-gon checked his chrono, 45 minutes late in seeing him. The man was apparently running some sort of entertainment industry, judging by the odd memorabilia scattered throughout the building. Though Qui-gon was at a loss about what 'Industrial Light and Magic' meant.
This was a strange planet. The clothing he'd been given was rather garish for his tastes and was light or loose in places he wasn't used to. The shoes, called speakers or something, had been too small for him and he'd been forced to wear his boots underneath the tight pants. It made everything even more uncomfortable. Qui-gon found himself comparing his bus ride to Mr. Lucas' complex to the time he'd spent in the trenches as a mediator during the Felth war. At least in the Felth war he'd been in Jedi robes. He wondered how Obi-wan was faring with the local fashions.
Qui-gon was so occupied in his critique of Earth's fashion sense that he didn't notice the short figure approaching him.
"Be you who?" said a child's lilting voice. Qui-gon looked and nearly jumped out of his chair. A small child wearing a very life-like Yoda mask stood next to him.
'What?" he said after his heart beat returned to normal.
"Be you who?" said the child, with a seeming infinite amount of patience. Qui-gon sorted through the backwards imitation Yoda speak and gave his answer.
"I'm a friend of Mr. Lucas. Who are you?" It was unnerving to talk to someone in a mask of Yoda. Especially since that mask shouldn't even exist. He was going to have a serious talk with Mr. Lucas.
The child pushed back his mask reveling a little boy's chubby face.
"I'm Master Yoda." The boy said as if it were obvious. Qui-gon had to smile.
"Christopher!" yelled a rather frazzled looking woman. "I thought I told you to stay in the room?" Christopher nodded but looked unperturbed. He pulled his Yoda mask back on and the woman took his hand, after telling him not to talk to strangers, and pulled him off down the hall.
"May the Force be with you!" shouted the little boy before he rounded the corner. Qui-gon shook his head. This is what Mr. Lucas thought of keeping a low profile?
He saw another woman in a tight something enter and look around the room. "Mr. Jinn?" she asked even though he was the only one waiting. "Mr. Lucas will see you now." Qui-gon nodded and walked through the door she was holding open. He found himself in yet another office and was at a loss until he noticed the rich wooden doors leading to yet another room. The secretary returned to her desk, ignoring him, so he walked across the thick carpet and opened the other doors.
A humanoid male with a graying beard and hair sat in front of an expensive desk. Qui-gon quickly took in the room, noting the tasteful paintings and potted plants arranged in the same manner he had seen in so many diplomats and politicians offices over the years. The plush carpet was a neutral blue color that matched nicely with the pattern on the chairs scattered strategically throughout the room. The effect was rather ruined by the large jar resembling a wookie's head that sat on one corner of the desk. Not to mention that the man was wearing a plaid casual shirt that Qui-gon was sure was not respectable formal attire on this planet.
"Ah, Master Qui-gon Jinn. Welcome to the planet Earth," said the man with a smile. His voice had quavered when he said Qui-gon's name though. "What can I do for you?" Qui-gon did not return the smile but made sure he was meeting Lucas' eyes.
"You can bring me to my apprentice and then you can explain what you have been doing on this planet that wasn't in your reports." Inwardly Qui-gon winced at his bluntness, but he was not going to play word games when Obi-wan was at stake.
"Won't you sit down Master Jinn?" said Mr. Lucas, his smile wavering. Qui-gon studied him for a moment then took a seat. Remaining standing could have been considered a threat, and while Qui-gon did feel like threatening him at the moment, that was not the Jedi way. Lucas lifted the head off the wookie head and pushed the container towards him. "Cookie?" Qui-gon shook his head, then did a quick force calming exercise before his impatience began to show. He couldn't help but have the feeling that every second they wasted here was another second that Obi-wan was suffering.
"Tell me. How does a wookie's head end up as a cookie jar on your desk when the people of this planet aren't even supposed to know they exist yet?"
"I was given discretionary powers to reveal the truth about our galaxy to these people in way I chose fit."
"So you chose to market it?" Qui-gon was incredulous.
"Not market it exactly. I just made a movie of it, and then things got a little out of hand. Who knew it would catch on? You sure you don't want a cookie?"
"Mr. Lucas. I frankly don't care what you have been doing on this world, though you can rest assured it will find its way into my report. I haven't seen my apprentice in over a year and would like to get reacquainted. We can continue this talk later." Qui-gon stood up. He knew that Lucas would jump at the chance of postponing their talk, but Lucas was surprisingly reluctant to take him to Obi-wan.
"Yes. Your apprentice. I haven't seen him recently."
"You're one report said he had arrived here safely and you were putting him to good use." It must have been one of Lucas' reports he had written and sent on in anticipation of Obi-wan's arrival, because Lucas almost began to squirm in his seat. A look of desperation crossed his face and he said very quickly.
"Actually, he never arrived, and I haven't seen him at all." Qui-gon froze in front of the man, then fixed him with a look that had made kings tremble.
"You didn't even search for him."
"He should have contacted me. My name is well known here. There was no way he could miss me. I assumed he hadn't arrived at all. I had to use someone else in his place." Lucas said it all in a rush and Qui-gon found himself pitying the man in the same way he pitied many of the strays Obi-wan always chided him for picking up.
"He is on the planet. I have sensed him, but he doesn't let me in." He turned the full force of his gaze on Mr. Lucas. "You are going to help me find him Mr. Lucas." Lucas nodded his head, willing to agree to anything if it would get the Jedi out of his office. He picked up his telephone and called his secretary, setting the ball in motion.
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It had been nearly two weeks since they found their new flatmate, and all had gone surprisingly well. Adam fit in well with the flats routine of disorderliness and craziness. His habit of downing beer as if it were going out of style endeared him to Alex, while his apparent in depth knowledge of any time in history made for some fascinating tales around the dinner table. He also could cook when he was of a mind to, and they were surprised to discover he was gourmet. Somehow they never got around to asking him how he got the money to pay for all those hard to find ingredients or the flat for that matter, on a tour guide's salary.
Alex, however, was prone to bouts of depression ever since his panic-attack in the crypts. No matter how they asked, the women could get no explanation of what had happened out of him, and he seemed to withdraw daily into a stupor that involved staring at the walls for long amounts of time, then finding more beer. Between him and Adam they must have gone through twenty cases of beer in just the past week.
Sarah was sitting in the kitchen, reading a magazine when Liath stormed in. Adam was sprawled across two of the other chairs with a beer and some ancient looking book.
"This has to stop! I don't know if his liver or his heart will give out first, but Alex is destroying himself and we are the only ones who can help him." Adam looked up from his book.
"Some people don't want to be saved." Liath held her ground stubbornly, despite the fact that Adam could make her feel five years old sometimes.
"And Alex isn't one of them." Sarah frowned at her.
"What do you think we should do then? Besides what we've already tried." Lia shook her head and sat down in the remaining chair.
"That's just it. I don't have a clue." Just then a door slammed, and they all listened in silence as Alex made his way drunkenly to his room.
"We can't discuss this here," said Sarah. "Why don't we go to that coffee shop down the road?" Liath nodded and got up to go. On a whim she grabbed Adam's book and took his wrist in her hand.
"You're coming too. Don't argue." Adam glared at her, but didn't even attempt to get out of her iron grip.
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Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Please review this and let us know what you think, even if you think this is horrible. Also, since we have no idea when the next chapter will be out, we're adopting a policy I've been using on one of my other stories. Not everyone has author alert, so if you would like to be emailed when the next chapter is out, please tell me in a review and I will add you to the list.