See previous chapters for disclaimers and other randoms notes, ramblings, etc.
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Chapter Three - Choices
From the Private Journals of Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master:
I can remember long nights from my apprenticeship, ones where I was sure that I was completely alone, the only soul awake inside the Jedi Temple. I could hear my Master sleeping in the next room, his soft, rumbling snore reverberating through our small apartment. Those nights were filled with the quiet desperation of a child who knew, even without being told, that no good would come from staying awake, that the morning would only bring exhaustion and failure, but lacked the strength and ability to calm himself enough to finally sleep.Insomnia as an adult hasn't really brought a lot of comfort to that scenario, though. I've long since learned how to master my body rhythms, which makes going without a night's sleep almost routine. But mentally, the situation is much the same. My mind races with the what-ifs I'd rather not contemplate. I'll go to my window and study the lights of Coruscant or go into one of the gardens and attempt to meditate. But there is an unnatural silence to the area that envelopes me.
Kit's
second padawan is to be knighted tomorrow. They went before the Council
a week ago to petition for her acceptance as a full member of the Jedi
Order. Of course they welcomed the young female Mirialian, a slight,
small thing with pale skin, dark hair, and ritual tattoos on her hands
and forearms. Nih'ela will be an asset to the Intelligence Corps of the
Jedi Order. She posses a spectacularly sharp wit, as well as a level of
accommodation and adaptation extraordinary even among the Jedi.
Kit, of course, asked me to attend the ceremony and even help Nih'ela maintain her vigil until dawn. Traditionally, the night before a padawan is raised to knight or a knight to master, they maintain a vigil in the Hall of Remembrance, surrounded by the candles honoring the spirits of Jedi who have passed into the Force. Masters and Knights who have been close friends and mentors are encouraged to keep some of the vigil with her.
I had spent some time with Nih'ela, working on her connection to the Living Force. As Kit got older and stronger in her innate abilities, it became very clear that she was deeply connected to the Unifying Force. She is still as quiet as ever, if not more so, but she demonstrated aptitude with visions. She knows, and has known for a long time, more than she lets on.
[Soft exhalation and movement; clink of dishes and the sound of metal against metal.]
A few weeks after I had to leave Xan on Telos, she told me that she knew what his fate was going to be from when he was only a couple years my padawan. When I asked her why she never said anything, she simply shrugged and gave me a piercing look, knowing what my question really was.
"If you could have done anything to change his fate," she had replied slowly, "and I don't think you could have, it would have had to been done the day you brought him to the Temple." Something in her eyes shifted, and she withdrew for a moment. I had wanted to scream at her shouting Yoda's platitude about the future being in motion, take her by the shoulders, and demand what I could have done.
Then her eyes had lifted, and... I can't explain it. She saw through me. I felt as though she witnessed every event that would transpire in my lifetime in an instant, every pain and every joy I would ever experience. My anger then died in my throat, and I felt another emotion that was supposedly not within the Jedi repertoire: fear.
Kit drew a deep breath then and folded her arms into her sleeves. "Don't let Xanatos destroy you. The Force can redeem you in its own time, even if it can't choose your destiny." Her brow furrowed, and the rich russet eyes held mine.[Whistle of a tea kettle and movement; clink of dishes and pouring of liquid.]
I should be happier on such an evening. My dearest friend's padawan is to join the Order tomorrow, ascending to a level towards which she has been working since the day she was brought here. But mostly what consumes my mind is what the difference between Nih'ela and Xan is. Why did she succeed where he could not? All padawans are given a final test, something that proves their dedication to the Jedi Order and its ideals, something that uses their extensive training.
[Sipping of liquid]
I'm sure this is what my master always meant by my being too much in the Living Force and not enough in the Unifying Force. How many times have I thought over his training? How many times have I tried to find the turning point in my former padawan's career? Where did I make the crucial decision?
It's not there.
Everything I did was on instinct, feeling correct. I don't mean to say that I was the perfect master – far from it – but I can't look back and pinpoint that moment when I went wrong. With the Living Force as my guide, every decision made was, at that moment, the closest one to correct I could make.Decisions which left him on Telos and me alone in a starship, torn to shreds.
I was a fool, to think that my training would be the hardest thing I would have to endure.
[Sipping of liquid. Moments pass; a soft, disjointed breath followed by a sigh]
I can't help but think of the boy I brought to the Temple a few weeks ago. Obi-Wan.
Will he make it to Nih'ela's place? Will he hold a vigil in the depths of the Jedi Temple to greet the sunrise flushed with pride and achievement on becoming a Jedi Knight? Will his master proudly cut away his braid? Will he be accepted by the Council and eventually train padawans of his own?Or will he be reassigned to the DiploCorps or AgriCorps? Will he be huddled with other crèche members on a cold docking ramp in the late evening with only a few Jedi to witness his ignominious departure?
[Sipping of liquid interspersed with long pauses]
I wonder what is going through Kit's mind tonight. It is a very difficult thing to decide to take on a padawan. Not only do you vow to teach them and mentor them, but you also have a set of vows that you take which the padawan will never learn until he takes his own protégé. A Jedi Master must put his padawan's life before his own in all things. Being a member of this order is no easy thing, for master or padawan. You train a student for ten or fifteen years, and during that time you become guardian for that apprentice.
When Iaren was raised, I don't think I slept well for a few weeks. You learn to be reassured by the soft breathing in the middle of the night. In the closest relationships, you become a dear friend to your padawan, eventually function more on the level of equals than as master and apprentice. Iaren and I were friends, but never on the level of intimacy which you hope to have.
I know I never reached that level with Master Dooku. I think I was more of a challenge to him, something that was interesting more in an academic way than anything else.
If you had asked me before Telos, I would have said that Xan and I were on that level, but I know now it was only an illusion. I just can't tell if I created the illusion or if he did to satisfy me. He knew I regarded him as the son I would never have, although I see now that he never forgot his father, never managed to put aside that glimmer of perfection young children cast around their parents or surrogate parents. It takes age and maturity to see the adults in one's life as real people with faults. I suppose that's why the Jedi are paired up in early adolescence instead of childhood.
You're less likely to project perfection then.
Iaren was a learning experience. She led me through training her as much as I helped her grow in the Force. It was a partnership, if not an extremely close one. I knew nothing more taking her on as my padawan than I wanted to be different from Master Dooku.
My training methods would not be his.
It worked well enough with her, so I changed little with Xan. I should have known better, though. They were completely different. Iaren was quiet and reserved, quick to think but slow to voice her opinions. She missed very little and was empathetic in nearly all things. Xan was quicker with his tongue and his wit, seeing the large situation but missing details that Iaren could pick up. Through his training, that slowly changed, and he developed an eye for detail, though it was never as innate as Iaren's. He lacked her empathy as well.
Not to say that I didn't modify my methods at all, of course.
I just let my pride of Xan blind me to the truth that he was; arrogant and self-possessed.
What's the word Mace likes to use? Legacy. Xan was to be my legacy, which blinded me to what he was. In the end I cared for him too much and disciplined him too little. What's the adage? I think it's Corellian: Spare the rod and spoil the child. But what happens if you grip the rod too tightly, have the child more intimate with it than you?
[Long draught from cup, clink of dishes]
This is supposed to be about Nih'ela and Kit. I never fail to drag myself down, do I?
You have all this talk about how there is no emotion, there is no passion. I should be able to put this whole thing behind me, shouldn't I? But I don't know how. I can immerse myself in the Living Force, I can fight until I collapse from exhaustion, but I've yet to learn how to outrun my thoughts.
I can only be as I am, championing the fight of the underdog, the pathetic lifeform that I find that doesn't seem to have his niche yet.
Why?
Because I am that lifeform, I suppose. I don't belong on the Council, despite popular opinion, I don't belong as a master to other Jedi, I don't belong in the system that often cares more for procedure than integrity.
I'm just the Rogue who's a damn fool always following his quixotic notions of the Living Force.
[Clatter of dishes, running water, a sigh]
A damn fool who learned, again, that the bitterest betrayals can come from the ones you love most.
Problem
is, I can't quite buy into the idea that I was the betrayed. Xan
wouldn't have turned on me if I hadn't somehow failed him.
()()()()()()()()()()()()
Nih'ela knelt in the center of the Hall of Remembrance, a small candle positioned before her in the center of the huge room. Lying next to it was her lightsaber. Her hands were positioned on either side of her head, with her forehead pressed against the cool tile floor. Meditation positions were as unique as the Jedi who utilized them, but Qui-Gon recognized this one as one he'd show the padawan many years ago. It was a favorite of his, as it forced the user to concentration beyond physical discomfort, to take in the here and now of the Force, as opposed to the current feelings of the body.
Kit stood to the side, her hands hidden within the sleeves of her thick, dark, outer robe. Her hair was tied back loosely from her face, and her eyes were concentrated on her padawan, even as Qui-Gon approached to stand next to her.
They stood in companionable silence for a long time, though the minutes never stretched it into discomfiture. Eventually, the smaller Jedi Master broke the silence, her eyebrows flicking higher onto her forehead as she spoke quietly yet still distinctly. "I wondered if you would come."
Resisting the urge to shrug, Qui-Gon instead clasped his hands behind his back and shuffled his feet a little. "I didn't know if I should or not."
Kit's face quirked into a half-smile, and she finally turned her eyes from Nih'ela to her old friend. "I keep thinking some day your skull will loose it's incredible thickness."
He grunted. Kit blinked slowly before looking away from him. "You won't get to skulk forever, you know. The Council plans to send you away, on a real mission this time."
"Shouldn't we be discussing Nih'ela and the difficult evening she's enduring? The wonderful receptions she'll receive tomorrow?"
Kit shifted her weight, regarding her padawan in a silent moment. Her eyes looked almost heavy, as though they were beholding something beyond her comprehension. "Do you know what makes me the most proud about her?" she finally asked, not bothering to look at Qui-Gon. He inclined his head silently, not needing to reply and knowing that she would speak her mind in her own good time.
As he waited, he watched the light dance across the floor, the play of the light and shadows of multitudes of eternal flames each positioned in front of an individual's name, all spilling onto the floor of the Hall. This is a legacy, Qui-Gon suddenly though. The millions who have died in the service of the Jedi Order, their ashes brought here for eternity, watched over by a single flame.
"She made her own decision to stay."
Kit's voice cut across his thoughts, although he made no sign that he'd not been considering her question. "It's not unheard of these days to go through the entire training process only to ask for dismissal instead of acceptance into the Order. But she didn't decide to stay for me. She did it for herself, because she wanted to. Being a Jedi is actually what she wants to do."Perhaps that is one of the worse flaws in our system. So much emphasis is put on the rank of Jedi Knight. We should be more concerned with the process than the end result. You can't have such a difficult existence without the option of refusing it. No good would ever come of forcing padawans and initiates to become Jedi just because they are here."
Qui-Gon suddenly felt tired, burdened by every lesson he'd learned as a padawan. "And what about those of us who became Knights to prove a point? For pride or defiance? To prove we could do it?"
"The rest of us are too wrapped up in our own reasons to notice," the smaller woman replied wryly.
A sigh was out of Qui-Gon's mouth before he could stop it. "Perhaps we ought to be grateful that anyone at all reaches the rank of Knight." Kit resettled her arms, a gesture indicating her agreement.
"In the end, you can't change the decision another person makes." Kit's russet eyes bore into his almost painfully. Qui-Gon shifted his arms from his back to his chest, crossing them tightly and refusing to rise to Kit's unspoken challenge.
She waited a few more moments then shook her head. "I'm sorry, friend. I shouldn't ruin this vigil by bringing up things that you obviously don't wish to speak about."
The taller Jedi gave a soft smile. "The Knight you've trained will be a credit to our Order," he replied.
Kit nodded slightly in response, before adding quietly, "At least, as much as any of us are."