Part 1: Brighter in the Dark
Joran got up from his sleepcouch. He could feel something was wrong with his apprentice, but Qui-Gon was not in his bed nor was he anywhere within the small guesthouse.
Slipping on his cloak, he stepped outside. It was still and dark, silent. The ground in the backyard was still covered in a foot of crisp white snow that had fallen three days earlier. It was clean and untouched, pure, as a Jedi's heart should be, but it reminded Joran most of his own Padawan.
His eyes searching the dark yard, he found the one he sought. Qui-Gon lay on his back in the middle of the yard. Joran quickly strode over to him.
"Qui-Gon, are you all right? What are you doing?"
"Looking at the stars," Qui-Gon answered as simply as if he were sitting looking out a window.
"In the snow, in your sleepclothes?" This new behavior of Qui-Gon's had Joran confused and a bit concerned.
"I was trying to numb the sadness."
Joran sank down in the snow beside his student. Trying to understand the irrational actions of the teenager, he humored him. "Why are you sad, Qui-Gon?"
Qui-Gon sat up and leaned against his teacher. "The sky is so beautiful here." Above them, the galaxy itself arched over their heads, fabulous beads shining in a trail from one horizon to another. Beautiful stars, orange, blue, and pure white, shone on either side of the celestial disk, reflecting on the equally pristine powder around them. "Not like on Coruscant. You can't see any stars there. So much light. Too much. The sky would be so beautiful, if you could just see it.
"There it is." He lifted his arm and pointed a few degrees above the horizon to the south to where the galaxy wrapped around the world's edge. "That orange one. Almost gold. Almost. Ironic that it should look so faint, but that is only because we're so far away."
Dooku looked to where Qui-Gon pointed. He was unsure which point of light it was, but he knew Qui-Gon was not. The Padawan always figured out where Coruscant would be from the planet they were on. It was, after all, his reluctant home.
"Why do these people want to ruin their world? It's so beautiful," he repeated. "Why do they want to build factories and cause pollution? Why do they want to fill the sky with light and hide the stars and dirty the air?"
A cold hand clenched the Master's tunic, finding little warmth.
"They don't care about that, Qui-Gon. The Industrialists plan to move this planet forward and protect its people. The Naturalists were corrupt. Their leaders only wanted power. The people chose the Industrialists to guide them because they will govern fairly. You know that, Qui-Gon. It's why we are here."
They don't care... To think it was like shards of glass in Qui-Gon's young heart. How could an entire people not care about the beauty that was all around them? Yet he understood that they had to make sacrifices in order to survive. It was something he would have to come to accept, but he could not yet. He sighed roughly.
Joran touched the hand on his tunic, thinking to remove it but then feeling its chill. "You are frozen, Padawan! You had best get inside before you catch your death of cold."
Crystal streaks traced the apprentice's cheeks. "I don't want to go back." He did not mean inside; he did not want to return to Coruscant. With all of its metal and light and noise, it was no place for him. Somewhere like this world or one carpeted by green grass and tall regal trees was more appropriate for his loving, living soul.
Joran sighed himself. Only if Qui-Gon were truly naive would he think he could stop the change on this planet. Moments like this made him wonder why he had chosen such an emotional student, but then when his eyes caught the hope that still lived in those icy eyes despite the sadness, and when he saw in them the fear that people he did not even know would have their lives stripped of unknown happiness, Master Dooku remembered that it was that innocence that he wanted to protect.
Without further words, he lifted Qui-Gon and carried him back through the icy field into their temporary shelter. He set the Padawan on the couch while he prepared a fire in the hearth. He turned again to the room and saw that Qui-Gon had not moved. Joran lifted the boy and placed him in front of the heat source.
"Go to bed once you are warm, and try not to get sick," he ordered, visions of the last ordeal with a sick apprentice flashing through his mind.
"Yes, Master," Qui-Gon answered quietly.
After a few moments, he heard Dooku retreat into his room and released a resigned sigh. He knew his Master would never understand his feelings on this matter, and he knew he should not have felt so strongly about it in the first place. They had accomplished the mission. He should have felt good about it, but he simply could not be at ease.
He rose from the floor, the tingling in his fingers and toes signaling he was readjusted to the inside. Stepping through the small food preparation area, he stopped at the steaming bowl of broth Dooku had apparently prepared for him while he was in front of the fire. A surprised smile lit his features. Maybe there was hope.