Author's Note: It feels extremely awkward to be writing more to this story, but while I was going through my old fics, I realized I had left this one virtually unfinished! At the time of "finishing" a year ago, I had planned a sequel, but I guess I never got it completed. So I decided to write off this quick little epilogue, in hopes of tying up some (well the important one!) loose ends.

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Epilogue

Some say that with years, even the deepest wound can begin to heal. Some say love and forgiveness conquer all forces and gradually pain yields way to peace. It is that deep truth that keeps a Jedi going, that one sliver of hope, that one thing still worth fighting for.

Qui-Gon Jinn was ready to surrender.

It had been six years since he had left Apsolon, six years since he had embarked upon the mission of vengeance that had changed everything. His apprentice, no, his former apprentice was still the servant of Alani and Eritha, their willing executioner. The diabolical twins had oppressed all who stood against them and had begun a massive civil war in the Republic, a war in which more and more Jedi were slain.

So many friends, so much death.

Qui-Gon bit hard on his lip. Wetness trickled over his lips, blood, cloying. How could he have let so much happen? It was his fault, all his fault. The Jedi master closed his eyes with great weariness, feeling the pull of his knitting muscles. It never ended, the fighting. He would depart in the afternoon for yet another mission, to yet another world, to offer what little aid he could to the Republic. Apolson's might was great indeed and everyday more and more star systems had allied with them. Each day, more and more of what Qui-Gon loved was lost.

He felt empty inside, hollow as a log. For there was nothing.

He had poured his heart and soul into his apprentice and now –

A painful lump rose in Qui-Gon's throat at the thought of Obi-Wan. Alani and Eritha had taken something so good and kind and manipulated it into a master of evil. Obi-Wan was a feared man and his skills with a lightsaber were renowned far and wide. Few dared oppose him and those who had tried were now dead.

He supposed he should feel proud, Qui-Gon thought bitterly. For three years he had taught Obi-Wan the way of the Force and the lightsaber and now, with the aid of the Dark Side, the student had truly surpassed the master. Many masters. How could Qui-Gon forget the moment Mace Windu had stood at his door and coolly told him that Master Poof was now dead?

"Did he fall in combat?" Qui-Gon had inquired.

Mace's expression had been taut, his eyes troubled. "Indeed he did, Qui, and it was by none other than by Kenobi's hand that he fell. Kenobi sends his regards." Then he had bowed swiftly and exited the room in search of a private place to grieve.

Qui-Gon had then gone in search of his former apprentice, determined to bring the young man back somehow, still believing that he could! After four years of tracking, the two had met finally, on the slopes of Apsolon.

Obi-Wan's expression had been wearied, but amused. "Qui-Gon Jinn."

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon had rasped, his throat closing at the mere sight of his former apprentice.

"Long have you tracked me and now I weary of it," Obi-Wan had said, his expression twisting. His red lightsaber ignited. "Come now, let us hold our fight."

"I came to speak with you, not to combat." Qui-Gon had studied Obi-Wan carefully, feeling a strange sort of pride that Obi-Wan stood so handsome and tall. Yet his face was scarred from battles, a dangerous gleam and hunger for death illuminated his eyes, and he was nearly undistinguishable from the boy who had once lovingly called him 'Master.' Seeing Obi-Wan had been like seeing a droid: perfect, but lifeless. Qui-Gon had felt a surge of rage at what Alani and Eritha had molded such a promising Jedi padawan into, yet quickly he had quashed it. Already he had lost too much to rage.

Obi-Wan had released a short bark of laughter. "Not for combat? A pity then, Master Jinn, for I do not bandy wasted words."

"If you did, then perhaps you would not be a murderer a thousand times over."

"And deny myself the pleasure? I think not."

Each of the words had been like a dagger to Qui-Gon's heart and he was hardly able to keep his voice steady. "This isn't you, Padawan!"

At that word, something in Obi-Wan had shattered. Complete rage contorted his features and he had sprang at Qui-Gon, lightsaber extended. "How dare you call me that?" he screamed, raining down blows in a frenzy. "How dare you!"

Qui-Gon had grimly parried. "I call you that for you swore yourself to me years ago," said he.

"You betrayed me! Do not lie!" Obi-Wan had grunted from the exertion, but the speed and strength behind his blows had never faltered. Indeed he was strong, and a skilled swordsman. Qui-Gon was finding it difficult to intercept Obi-Wan's next moves.

"I would never lie to you, unlike those who you serve."

"That itself is a lie!" Obi-Wan had screamed and then charged at Qui-Gon with such ferocity that his 'saber nicked Qui-Gon's tunic. Qui-Gon had grimly ignored the burn and fought Obi-Wan off, forcing the younger man to open up space between them.

Obi-Wan had given a harsh laugh and kicked out at the master Jedi, even as he used his momentum to spin to Qui-Gon's unprotected left flank. "I suppose I should expect no less of you, though," he had said, every word twisted with derision. "For three years I listened to your lies. Did I really expect to hear truth from you in your final moments?"

The lightsaber duel had continued for several long minutes, in which sweat beaded on both men's faces and their arms gradually began to tire from sheer exhaustion. Kenobi was a fierce warrior and the drug Eritha had addicted him to was a powerful ally. However while his hot rage lent him much strength, he was lacking in tactics and those he knew, Qui-Gon had taught him. More than once, Qui-Gon found himself parrying maneuvers he himself had guided the young man to master.

At last, he had managed to pierce Obi-Wan's guard, and his green blade had swiftly separated arm from body. Qui-Gon stood over his former apprentice, his face bathed in sweat. He was beginning to understand now why so many Jedi had fallen to Kenobi. Qui-Gon Jinn was accounted one of the greatest warriors of all the Jedi and had it not been for his experience, skill, and knowledge of Obi-Wan's moves, it was likely he would have been slain.

"Yield to me!" Qui-Gon had demanded, knowing he ought to finish Obi-Wan and also knowing that he couldn't.

Obi-Wan had spat at him, still circling backward, his hand clenched at his side, pain crumpling his face. "Never!"

"You cannot win!"

"Then I'll die trying."

"Proud declarations will not save your life," Qui-Gon had said, but even to his own ears, his threat sounded hollow.

Obi-Wan had smirked at that. "Will they not? I beg to differ." Then he had lunged directly at Qui-Gon, armed with nothing. Barely in time, Qui-Gon had deactivated his lightsaber before it could skewer Obi-Wan and then the other man had hit him and he went sprawling. Obi-Wan had been instantly on top of him, his hand reaching for Qui-Gon's throat. Drawing on what little will remained, Qui-Gon had punched his former apprentice squarely in the face, knocking him off. But Obi-Wan's eyes had gleamed with triumph, even as blood spurted over his face. He had realized that Qui-Gon was not willing to kill him.

"You are weak, Qui-Gon Jinn, but that is to my benefit," he had said, the same twisted smile again on his face. Qui-Gon had been painfully reminded of Xanatos. Could he watch another fallen apprentice die? No! And certainly not by his hand could he deliver a fatal blow.

Then Kenobi had turned and fled, his black robe flying behind him. Qui-Gon had not pursued him.

To this day, he cursed himself, for his weakness as a master and then as a Jedi. How many times? How many times had he allowed emotion to rule him? Love had blinded him to Xanatos's faults, love had misled him after Tahl's death, and love had prevented him from slaying the one who had wrought so much damage.

Qui-Gon wanted to die. He wanted to fall upon his own blade and never rise again. And why shouldn't he? a corner of his mind nagged. All he seemed capable of was releasing destruction.

So lost in his thoughts was he, that he did not notice Nield's entrance until the younger man cleared his throat and said purposefully, "Good afternoon, Master Jinn."

Dully, Qui-Gon said, "Good afternoon."

The years had hardened Nield's expression and toughened his body, and it was a weary and scarred veteran of many wars who stood before him. "I've just returned from a battle near the Outer Rim," said he. "I saw Obi-Wan."

Instantly Qui-Gon's attention was captivated. "Did he say anything?"

Nield sighed and dropped his head into his hands, massaging his forehead. "Yes. Yes, he did. All my men are dead now, Qui-Gon. I went into combat with forty able men and they are all dead. I am alive merely because of the message I am to deliver."

"What message?" said Qui-Gon.

In response, Nield handed him a small scrap of paper, rumpled and stained with blood. He recognized immediately Obi-Wan's distinct handwriting. It has been some time since we last met, Qui-Gon Jinn, and I anticipate our next meeting. For I myself now have taken an apprentice found on Tatooine and will not rest until he has put his blade through your arm, as you did to me. Is not vengeance sweet?

And at that, the normally stoic and composed Jedi Master gave not a care in the world that he had company, and broke down and allowed the tears to flow.


The End