No One's Help
"You fought very well," Qui-Gon began, walking towards her. "My name is Qui-Gon Jinn, and the Council has asked me to assist you." She stood alone in the middle of the arena watching his approach. She had gone very still at the sight of him, and now, although she looked calm, Qui-Gon could feel slight tension and uneasiness at his advance. As he drew near, he could see her tunic was covered in sweat and small curls had formed around her hairline from the saltwater, framing her deep, gray eyes. They reminded him of a stormy ocean he'd seen on one of missions with Riley.
"So you're the one they've sent to tame me," she said quietly, her voice quiet and melodic. She shook her head, her braid bouncing across her back. "The Council thinks it will all be better if I have someone to watch over me." Her eyes suddenly shifted from stormy waters to harsh stone. Toying with her saber with long fingers, she looked at him as if challenging him to defy what she had said.
"I suspect I won't make things any easier," Qui-Gon replied demurely, "but neither will you make things easier for me." He had to admire her spirit. She didn't seem as unbalanced as he felt, unless it was all a front. However, it was rather presumptuous for him to think he could figure out and understand her within the first minutes of meeting her.
"Make things easier for you? I'm afraid I don't follow." She slowly began walking away from the center, obviously assuming Qui-Gon would follow her. Aislinn clipped her saber to her belt and grabbed one of the towels, wiping the sweat from her neck and face. "I thought this was for my benefit," she snorted contemptuously, "since my master is being held hostage and may never return."
"My master is dead and will never return," Qui-Gon echoed quietly. Aislinn turned around to studying him, her hand pausing as she continued to wipe the damp from herself. They stood there for a long moment, sizing each other up emotionally.
"Then at least we are agreed," Aislinn said finally, turning away to head towards the girls' locker room for a shower. "Neither of us want the other, because you can't be my master, and I can't be yours."
"How optimistic," he replied wryly, but she didn't hear, or perhaps didn't listen, having already gone into the locker room.
With a heavy sigh, he sat on the ground outside the door, waiting for her to reappear. Hating to admit this, Qui-Gon didn't have a very optimistic feeling about this little task. He had the sinking feeling that there was more to this than appeared at first glance. On the data pad, it was simple: help the girl through her rough time and in the process make life easier for the people who had to deal with her. Perhaps if he was lucky, he would benefit from her presence as well.
Still, he couldn't make it that simple where he was, sitting outside the girls' locker room, stinging a little at her cutting commentary. The padawan sighed, rubbing his temples. He didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. Obviously, the Council had faith in his abilities, or they wouldn't have chosen him. But Qui-Gon lacked that confidence himself. Perhaps that was what this was all about. He was still a complete person without his master, whether or not his training was complete. And perhaps it was truly complete. It might be true that he only needed confidence.
Still, confidence wasn't something that he could just convince himself he had. Qui-Gon stood up, restlessly stirring about the arena. He itched to understand and being acting already, doing something to prove himself, whether to the Council, to her, to his dead master, or to himself. Inactivity and ignorance frustrated the padawan, even though experience had taught him that the need to do something without enough thought or information beforehand could prove to have perilous results.
Discipline. Always discipline. Calming himself, Qui-Gon Jinn bent down to kneel on the floor. He immersed himself in the Force, drawing on strength and knowledge from the Force, still carefully avoiding the burn of his yet unstable emotions concerning his master.
* * *
"You're still here," Aislinn said, shaking her damp hair and sending water droplets flying. Qui-Gon looked up at the girl towering over him, looking somewhere between bemused and annoyed. "I see patience is something you have picked up in your years as a student here in the Temple." Her voice was twisted with sarcasm, given the fact patience was harped into the students. Patience was learned if nothing else.
"Why should I leave? I'm supposed to be here. Besides, I have nothing else to do," Qui-Gon replied, still trying to remain cool. It was obvious she was trying to goad him, and to his eternal irritation, it was working. "Go back to an empty set of quarters? I think not."
She frowned at the mention of empty quarters. "Well, consider it this way. You haven't lost a master; you've gained a guest room." Aislinn turned to leave, but Qui-Gon stood and caught her shoulder. Whirling quickly, she brushed his hand off and glared at him. Through the Force, Qui-Gon could feel that the gesture was not so much in anger, as it appeared, but pain and torment with no outlet. His frustration began to slip away. "I didn't ask for your help. I didn't ask for anyone's help. No one asked me if I really wanted to become a Jedi or have my master taken hostage. No one asked you to sweep in and try to fix everything."
Qui-Gon spread his hands apart disarmingly, although he still stung from her words. "I don't know if I can sweep in and fix everything, Aislinn. That's not why I am here." She shook her head violently and gave him a sharp push. He had to resist the temptation to shove her back.
"Then leave! Don't replace Nevan! Go back to the Council and tell them he is coming back and this is all unnecessary! Go!" She turned quickly, though not before Qui-Gon saw tears welling up in the corner of her eyes. Aislinn hurried ungainly across the arena, somewhere between walking and running. Then she turned the corner and disappeared.
"Kriff!" Qui-Gon yelled in frustration, turning around as he ripped the data pad from its holder on his belt and flung it across the arena as hard as he could. It skittered across the floor and came to rest again the far wall with a sickening crunch and a shower of crystals. He didn't even care he'd destroyed the pad.
Aidan stuck his head out of the locker room and looked around with wide eyes. He saw Qui-Gon and hesitantly stepped out from behind the safety of the door. "Are you all right?" he asked, sharing his attention between the older padawan and the remains of his data pad.
"Oh fine, fine," Qui-Gon replied with a sigh, his sudden outburst leaving only dull frustration. "I'm making quite a little mess of things all by myself." He walked over to the remnants and began gathering them together, thankful that the chip on Aislinn was still intact. He threw everything but the chip away.
"You were talking with Aislinn, weren't you?" Aidan asked, creeping towards Qui-Gon. When he stood, the small padawan shied away as if afraid he'd be struck. "Actually, I already know the answer to that. I could hear you." He chuckled a little uneasily. "She's a blaster, that's for sure."
"You're telling me," Qui-Gon replied flatly.
Aidan's face became serious as he watched the other padawan sigh over the trash can and turn away. "Go easy on her, will you? She doesn't know what to do or how to think about her master. She thinks the Council sent you as a replacement for her master, should he not survive." He shrugged, unsure of what else to say. "She's just hurting."
"I'll try. Do you know where she might have gone?"
"Probably back to her quarters. Or maybe the Room of a Thousand Fountains."
Qui-Gon nodded his thanks and left to locate his charge. No wonder the Council had called her particularly troublesome. But that didn't mean it wasn't justified. Which would be worse, having a master dead or the possibility of him someday coming back? Qui-Gon didn't know.
"You fought very well," Qui-Gon began, walking towards her. "My name is Qui-Gon Jinn, and the Council has asked me to assist you." She stood alone in the middle of the arena watching his approach. She had gone very still at the sight of him, and now, although she looked calm, Qui-Gon could feel slight tension and uneasiness at his advance. As he drew near, he could see her tunic was covered in sweat and small curls had formed around her hairline from the saltwater, framing her deep, gray eyes. They reminded him of a stormy ocean he'd seen on one of missions with Riley.
"So you're the one they've sent to tame me," she said quietly, her voice quiet and melodic. She shook her head, her braid bouncing across her back. "The Council thinks it will all be better if I have someone to watch over me." Her eyes suddenly shifted from stormy waters to harsh stone. Toying with her saber with long fingers, she looked at him as if challenging him to defy what she had said.
"I suspect I won't make things any easier," Qui-Gon replied demurely, "but neither will you make things easier for me." He had to admire her spirit. She didn't seem as unbalanced as he felt, unless it was all a front. However, it was rather presumptuous for him to think he could figure out and understand her within the first minutes of meeting her.
"Make things easier for you? I'm afraid I don't follow." She slowly began walking away from the center, obviously assuming Qui-Gon would follow her. Aislinn clipped her saber to her belt and grabbed one of the towels, wiping the sweat from her neck and face. "I thought this was for my benefit," she snorted contemptuously, "since my master is being held hostage and may never return."
"My master is dead and will never return," Qui-Gon echoed quietly. Aislinn turned around to studying him, her hand pausing as she continued to wipe the damp from herself. They stood there for a long moment, sizing each other up emotionally.
"Then at least we are agreed," Aislinn said finally, turning away to head towards the girls' locker room for a shower. "Neither of us want the other, because you can't be my master, and I can't be yours."
"How optimistic," he replied wryly, but she didn't hear, or perhaps didn't listen, having already gone into the locker room.
With a heavy sigh, he sat on the ground outside the door, waiting for her to reappear. Hating to admit this, Qui-Gon didn't have a very optimistic feeling about this little task. He had the sinking feeling that there was more to this than appeared at first glance. On the data pad, it was simple: help the girl through her rough time and in the process make life easier for the people who had to deal with her. Perhaps if he was lucky, he would benefit from her presence as well.
Still, he couldn't make it that simple where he was, sitting outside the girls' locker room, stinging a little at her cutting commentary. The padawan sighed, rubbing his temples. He didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. Obviously, the Council had faith in his abilities, or they wouldn't have chosen him. But Qui-Gon lacked that confidence himself. Perhaps that was what this was all about. He was still a complete person without his master, whether or not his training was complete. And perhaps it was truly complete. It might be true that he only needed confidence.
Still, confidence wasn't something that he could just convince himself he had. Qui-Gon stood up, restlessly stirring about the arena. He itched to understand and being acting already, doing something to prove himself, whether to the Council, to her, to his dead master, or to himself. Inactivity and ignorance frustrated the padawan, even though experience had taught him that the need to do something without enough thought or information beforehand could prove to have perilous results.
Discipline. Always discipline. Calming himself, Qui-Gon Jinn bent down to kneel on the floor. He immersed himself in the Force, drawing on strength and knowledge from the Force, still carefully avoiding the burn of his yet unstable emotions concerning his master.
* * *
"You're still here," Aislinn said, shaking her damp hair and sending water droplets flying. Qui-Gon looked up at the girl towering over him, looking somewhere between bemused and annoyed. "I see patience is something you have picked up in your years as a student here in the Temple." Her voice was twisted with sarcasm, given the fact patience was harped into the students. Patience was learned if nothing else.
"Why should I leave? I'm supposed to be here. Besides, I have nothing else to do," Qui-Gon replied, still trying to remain cool. It was obvious she was trying to goad him, and to his eternal irritation, it was working. "Go back to an empty set of quarters? I think not."
She frowned at the mention of empty quarters. "Well, consider it this way. You haven't lost a master; you've gained a guest room." Aislinn turned to leave, but Qui-Gon stood and caught her shoulder. Whirling quickly, she brushed his hand off and glared at him. Through the Force, Qui-Gon could feel that the gesture was not so much in anger, as it appeared, but pain and torment with no outlet. His frustration began to slip away. "I didn't ask for your help. I didn't ask for anyone's help. No one asked me if I really wanted to become a Jedi or have my master taken hostage. No one asked you to sweep in and try to fix everything."
Qui-Gon spread his hands apart disarmingly, although he still stung from her words. "I don't know if I can sweep in and fix everything, Aislinn. That's not why I am here." She shook her head violently and gave him a sharp push. He had to resist the temptation to shove her back.
"Then leave! Don't replace Nevan! Go back to the Council and tell them he is coming back and this is all unnecessary! Go!" She turned quickly, though not before Qui-Gon saw tears welling up in the corner of her eyes. Aislinn hurried ungainly across the arena, somewhere between walking and running. Then she turned the corner and disappeared.
"Kriff!" Qui-Gon yelled in frustration, turning around as he ripped the data pad from its holder on his belt and flung it across the arena as hard as he could. It skittered across the floor and came to rest again the far wall with a sickening crunch and a shower of crystals. He didn't even care he'd destroyed the pad.
Aidan stuck his head out of the locker room and looked around with wide eyes. He saw Qui-Gon and hesitantly stepped out from behind the safety of the door. "Are you all right?" he asked, sharing his attention between the older padawan and the remains of his data pad.
"Oh fine, fine," Qui-Gon replied with a sigh, his sudden outburst leaving only dull frustration. "I'm making quite a little mess of things all by myself." He walked over to the remnants and began gathering them together, thankful that the chip on Aislinn was still intact. He threw everything but the chip away.
"You were talking with Aislinn, weren't you?" Aidan asked, creeping towards Qui-Gon. When he stood, the small padawan shied away as if afraid he'd be struck. "Actually, I already know the answer to that. I could hear you." He chuckled a little uneasily. "She's a blaster, that's for sure."
"You're telling me," Qui-Gon replied flatly.
Aidan's face became serious as he watched the other padawan sigh over the trash can and turn away. "Go easy on her, will you? She doesn't know what to do or how to think about her master. She thinks the Council sent you as a replacement for her master, should he not survive." He shrugged, unsure of what else to say. "She's just hurting."
"I'll try. Do you know where she might have gone?"
"Probably back to her quarters. Or maybe the Room of a Thousand Fountains."
Qui-Gon nodded his thanks and left to locate his charge. No wonder the Council had called her particularly troublesome. But that didn't mean it wasn't justified. Which would be worse, having a master dead or the possibility of him someday coming back? Qui-Gon didn't know.