Waves of the Force
Qui-Gon sat up, a cold sweat covering his body. He looked around, disoriented to find himself back in his room, entangled in the blankets on his bed. The padawan struggled to free himself, sliding off the bed with a crash. The pain that shot through his shoulder calmed him, bringing him back to where he was.
The dream had been aberrant. He was in a large area, a labyrinth of platforms running between levels of what might have been a reactor of some kind. He was fighting something, something purely evil, and there was another man with him, someone he admired very much. He wasn't sure if he was the master or the padawan, although it didn't seem to matter any more.
The evil thing fought well, and he was besting Qui-Gon. He felt he couldn't fight any more, but he continued to push. He couldn't cease to fight. He had to win, or, if nothing else, the evil one had to be killed.
Then, the world seemed to stop. He was hit, run through on a saber – or was it the other man? The other man, the one fighting with him, cried out as though he were the wounded one, and Qui-Gon fell. The pain was agonizing, though he couldn't say whether it was emotional or physical. Then, he had awoken in his bed.
Qui-Gon kicked away the blankets, laying his cheek against the cool wood floor. He was overheated, and heat seemed to radiate from his body. He closed his eyes, reaching for his connection to the Force. The Jedi found his link, using it to anchor himself back into reality. It pulsated beneath the thrum of his own consciousness comfortingly.
There is no death, there is the Force. Qui-Gon probed farther beyond his usual restraints, pressing beyond his comfort zone within the Living Force. He found the larger entity, something all encompassing and all understanding that he wasn't accustomed to perceiving. There, he could sense the memories and perceptions of all the creatures that had existed before him, the things that had linked them the Force. The Living Force was like a dimmer reflection of this tide of information, only that of what existed in the here and now. It also was more constant, as unwavering as the Living Force was ever changing.
If there is no death, then Riley's essence is here somewhere, Qui-Gon decided, delving farther in. He could feel the connection to his physical self lessening, being pulled taunt as he moved away. It was one of the dangers of deep meditation; to go too far was to run the risk of never being able to return. However, Qui-Gon was far from that point.
He drifted through, experiencing a thousand different thoughts and memories, snippets of worlds and lives that no longer existed, or perhaps existed far from Qui-Gon's world. Nothing was familiar, though all was interesting. The experience of countless lifetimes existed here, all for the taking if one could understand it. This was part of what the Council was dedicated to discovering; the patterns within the waves of the Force.
* * *
Time passed, and Qui-Gon became frustrated and tired. He had no idea how long he had been this deeply taken in, only to have found nothing. He began to withdraw, when it came upon him. As the other memories had pervaded, this one seemed to swarm his senses, making him see what had been viewed, hearing, smelling, and to a lesser degree, feeling what the person had felt who really experienced this.
The view before him was a younger version of himself; shorter, lanky, and thing. His brown hair was a short mop, normally unmanageable. His younger self darted through the small gathering of people, then Qui-Gon noticed he was at the edge of the mats in the arena used for the sparring competitions. There was a surge of pride, not his own, within him.
Qui-Gon watched the fateful match between him and another padawan, a boy whose name had long since been forgotten. He could remember now, seeing something he remembered parts intimately well. His name was Dane Na'Belm. They both fought well, although Qui-Gon won the match. Another burst of gratification came from the memory, and then a bit of nervousness. Qui-Gon was absorbed into the memory, hearing the thoughts of the person he was existing within for the moment.
"Qui-Gon Jinn, will you be my padawan?" The boy turned, a look of surprise and awe across his features melting into a self-conscious smile. A smile creased my face at him, though I still felt a little nervous. I had trained three padawans successfully, and they were yet to know the flutter of uncertainty that filled a master as well as the padawan. "I would be honored if you would have me as your master." He pulled of his tunic, damp from the impressive spar he'd just fought. The poor boy seemed surprised that anyone would want to take him on, not aware of his own abilities.
"I would love to be your padawan," the boy replied. His chest still heaved from the exertions of the day. He looked shy all of a sudden. I was curious at this, given his seeming self-confidence. His face took on a reflective look. "I have a question, though, Master Giovan."
I watched as he pulled on the clean tunic, self-consciously wiping away sweat from his face. "I will try to answer it for you, Qui-Gon, though I can't promise I can." The boy had dark brown hair and intelligent gray-blue eyes that were currently shining as bright as his lightsaber blade. There would be many questions, and I knew that I couldn't answer them all, especially the most important ones.
"Why did you pick me? There are many others who are older than I am."
"I picked you because the Force seems to be leading me in that direction. You are intelligent and graceful, Qui-Gon, an excellent fighter for your age. That is a good thing for our pairing, since sparring has never been my strong suit. There is little you need to learn and little I could teach you about that. However, you are impulsive and strong-willed, am I right?" I smiled slightly as he shifted nervously at that. "I know that you have broken rules when you think it is necessary. I can teach you how to use the rules to your advantage, as well as know when it is truly time to break them. I can teach you how to trust another being when you need to and learn from you mistakes. I can also teach you how to lose gracefully. Sometimes when you lose, padawan, you win." I winked broadly at Qui-Gon. "You will go far, my padawan, and train a great man to be a Jedi Master, if you learn what I will teach you. You are intelligent and brave, Qui-Gon Jinn." I wondered if what I said really had any meaning, or if I was just trying to comfort the padawan. My padawan. But they rang true, the Force showing what was possible. It would be a good partnership, Qui-Gon and me. A wash of pleasure came over me.
May he never forget my pride in him for who he is and what he becomes. He will be a great Jedi someday, and I will always be here to see that, somehow.
Qui-Gon sat up, a cold sweat covering his body. He looked around, disoriented to find himself back in his room, entangled in the blankets on his bed. The padawan struggled to free himself, sliding off the bed with a crash. The pain that shot through his shoulder calmed him, bringing him back to where he was.
The dream had been aberrant. He was in a large area, a labyrinth of platforms running between levels of what might have been a reactor of some kind. He was fighting something, something purely evil, and there was another man with him, someone he admired very much. He wasn't sure if he was the master or the padawan, although it didn't seem to matter any more.
The evil thing fought well, and he was besting Qui-Gon. He felt he couldn't fight any more, but he continued to push. He couldn't cease to fight. He had to win, or, if nothing else, the evil one had to be killed.
Then, the world seemed to stop. He was hit, run through on a saber – or was it the other man? The other man, the one fighting with him, cried out as though he were the wounded one, and Qui-Gon fell. The pain was agonizing, though he couldn't say whether it was emotional or physical. Then, he had awoken in his bed.
Qui-Gon kicked away the blankets, laying his cheek against the cool wood floor. He was overheated, and heat seemed to radiate from his body. He closed his eyes, reaching for his connection to the Force. The Jedi found his link, using it to anchor himself back into reality. It pulsated beneath the thrum of his own consciousness comfortingly.
There is no death, there is the Force. Qui-Gon probed farther beyond his usual restraints, pressing beyond his comfort zone within the Living Force. He found the larger entity, something all encompassing and all understanding that he wasn't accustomed to perceiving. There, he could sense the memories and perceptions of all the creatures that had existed before him, the things that had linked them the Force. The Living Force was like a dimmer reflection of this tide of information, only that of what existed in the here and now. It also was more constant, as unwavering as the Living Force was ever changing.
If there is no death, then Riley's essence is here somewhere, Qui-Gon decided, delving farther in. He could feel the connection to his physical self lessening, being pulled taunt as he moved away. It was one of the dangers of deep meditation; to go too far was to run the risk of never being able to return. However, Qui-Gon was far from that point.
He drifted through, experiencing a thousand different thoughts and memories, snippets of worlds and lives that no longer existed, or perhaps existed far from Qui-Gon's world. Nothing was familiar, though all was interesting. The experience of countless lifetimes existed here, all for the taking if one could understand it. This was part of what the Council was dedicated to discovering; the patterns within the waves of the Force.
* * *
Time passed, and Qui-Gon became frustrated and tired. He had no idea how long he had been this deeply taken in, only to have found nothing. He began to withdraw, when it came upon him. As the other memories had pervaded, this one seemed to swarm his senses, making him see what had been viewed, hearing, smelling, and to a lesser degree, feeling what the person had felt who really experienced this.
The view before him was a younger version of himself; shorter, lanky, and thing. His brown hair was a short mop, normally unmanageable. His younger self darted through the small gathering of people, then Qui-Gon noticed he was at the edge of the mats in the arena used for the sparring competitions. There was a surge of pride, not his own, within him.
Qui-Gon watched the fateful match between him and another padawan, a boy whose name had long since been forgotten. He could remember now, seeing something he remembered parts intimately well. His name was Dane Na'Belm. They both fought well, although Qui-Gon won the match. Another burst of gratification came from the memory, and then a bit of nervousness. Qui-Gon was absorbed into the memory, hearing the thoughts of the person he was existing within for the moment.
"Qui-Gon Jinn, will you be my padawan?" The boy turned, a look of surprise and awe across his features melting into a self-conscious smile. A smile creased my face at him, though I still felt a little nervous. I had trained three padawans successfully, and they were yet to know the flutter of uncertainty that filled a master as well as the padawan. "I would be honored if you would have me as your master." He pulled of his tunic, damp from the impressive spar he'd just fought. The poor boy seemed surprised that anyone would want to take him on, not aware of his own abilities.
"I would love to be your padawan," the boy replied. His chest still heaved from the exertions of the day. He looked shy all of a sudden. I was curious at this, given his seeming self-confidence. His face took on a reflective look. "I have a question, though, Master Giovan."
I watched as he pulled on the clean tunic, self-consciously wiping away sweat from his face. "I will try to answer it for you, Qui-Gon, though I can't promise I can." The boy had dark brown hair and intelligent gray-blue eyes that were currently shining as bright as his lightsaber blade. There would be many questions, and I knew that I couldn't answer them all, especially the most important ones.
"Why did you pick me? There are many others who are older than I am."
"I picked you because the Force seems to be leading me in that direction. You are intelligent and graceful, Qui-Gon, an excellent fighter for your age. That is a good thing for our pairing, since sparring has never been my strong suit. There is little you need to learn and little I could teach you about that. However, you are impulsive and strong-willed, am I right?" I smiled slightly as he shifted nervously at that. "I know that you have broken rules when you think it is necessary. I can teach you how to use the rules to your advantage, as well as know when it is truly time to break them. I can teach you how to trust another being when you need to and learn from you mistakes. I can also teach you how to lose gracefully. Sometimes when you lose, padawan, you win." I winked broadly at Qui-Gon. "You will go far, my padawan, and train a great man to be a Jedi Master, if you learn what I will teach you. You are intelligent and brave, Qui-Gon Jinn." I wondered if what I said really had any meaning, or if I was just trying to comfort the padawan. My padawan. But they rang true, the Force showing what was possible. It would be a good partnership, Qui-Gon and me. A wash of pleasure came over me.
May he never forget my pride in him for who he is and what he becomes. He will be a great Jedi someday, and I will always be here to see that, somehow.