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O
Yoda was waiting for them when they stepped out into Naboo's lovely, unadulterated light. "Here, the ship is. Stay on it, we will, until it is time."
"Time for what?" Anakin asked, a sliver of his sadness still present in bright eyes, staying close to his towering guardian.
"Time to pick up the Jedi killer." Bruck supplied.
"Padawan," Qui-Gon said severely, then turned to Anakin and in a soothing tone, "He didn't kill any Jedi, Ani."
Silenced by the censure, Bruck could only privately provide his response: Because he was stopped.
O
The sky was changing.
He saw it shift over the hours, gold to gray and now, the sultry rose tint of sunset. His eyes were on the sky, so that perhaps his mind would follow suit.
He wasn't afraid. His Master had prepared him. His Master had molded him. This was his test.
He couldn't fail. He couldn't lose his standing with his teacher.
Without it, he had nothing.
Without it, he was nothing.
O
"Obi-Wan, as enthralling as the back of your head is, I think I'd rather see the screen."
The young apprentice laughed. "Then you must have bad taste. Quite a few people find the back of my head very entertaining. I think it's the haircut. No one gets the hair cut. Come to think of it, I don't get it. I mean, I understand the braid. But what's with the ponytail?"
Qui-Gon tried, very hard, to maintain a stern visage. "Padawan, I'm missing the program."
"Aha…" Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow with a sly smile, "You don't get it either."
The Master sighed. "Of course I 'get it'. The ponytail is in case a Master can't reach the braid to pull."
Obi-Wan giggled. "Fair enough. Is that why you never wear that D'iamili mane of yours in a ponytail?"
"Hm. You bring up an interesting point." Slowly, he grinned, "And here's my counterpoint."
Obi-Wan shrieked, scrambling to his feet as the man approached. But he wasn't quick enough for Qui-Gon, who grabbed him and exacted the worst form of punishment imaginable.
"Master!" The boy gasped between bouts of breathless laughter, "You…You know I'm ticklish!"
"Indeed. And I find it very entertaining."
Qui-Gon put a hand to his heart. He sat in the cockpit of the ship. The others were gathered in the common room. He was grateful that they recognized his need to be alone. He required enormous strength now, strength he still needed to find.
He's gone. He's been gone so long.
He swallowed thickly and glanced out the window, where black was beginning to saturate the burnished red dusk.
He's still gone. I must remember that.
O
The greatest weapon was not the lightsaber. This, Sidious had long ago determined. It was a beautiful, effective tool, yes, but vulnerable to short-outs and potentially inept wielders.
Real power never came in physical form. Empires did not tower and crumble through sheer might. The Jedi would not be eliminated by a barrage of blades—though many would come to fall at the scarlet edge of one. No, the key to every soul lay in the heart. Even he, a Sith and eternal reveler of the Darkness, was aware of it.
The heart was the nexus of being. And every heart harbored certain weaknesses.
Weakness was the weapon of most incredible magnitude. Human fallacy could steer a young, loyal student from one devotion to another, could bleach out gentleness and replace it with something more potent.
Obi-Wan Kenobi's spirit had been impressively resistant to the tragedy that crashed down on it. He was resilient—the aspect of his nature that attracted Sidious in the first place. But he was victim to the scourge of existence. His heart had a hole, gaping and wide. Like all others, he was incomplete.
It was still early. The atmosphere was layered in milky grays, and dawn's early breath had yet to make an appearance. The newly elected Supreme Chancellor stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the object of his apprentice's ongoing struggles. The boy did his best to conceal the pain, and hells knew his effort was considerable. Sidious could see the shame burn like cinder on stone, whenever he redirected a slight wandering of the pupil's mind. The youth was mortified, outraged that even a hint of Obi-Wan Kenobi lived inside him…but Sidious knew better.
Qui-Gon Jinn was walking towards him, low on the stair.
He was the key.
There were moments that the thought of Jinn left striking stripes of jade across the Sith's consciousness. Of course, he would never admit this to his apprentice. A Master of the Darkness rose above the piddling, self-serving Order, and the Universe collectively.
A true Sith had no weaknesses to claim. Or, so it would hold in the mind of a man who had been Obi-Wan Kenobi.
"Chancellor Palpatine." Qui-Gon greeted with a tinge of surprise, "I didn't know you would be here for this."
Palpatine went as far as to clap the man on the shoulder. "Much will be expected of me under my new station, Master Jedi. I am entrusted to keep peace…or some version of it, anyway." He smiled, and spoke intently, "The Republic has a relationship with the Jedi unmatched in value. I need to uphold that. I will support the Jedi in every way possible."
Qui-Gon Jinn gave a single nod of his head. "The Jedi appreciate that."
The men walked across the sleepy reception area, to the lifts.
Palpatine watched the subtle pull of emotion in the Master's face as he released a heavy sigh. "Do you believe you're capable of this, Master Jinn?" He wondered.
"I do what I must, Chancellor."
If he had been convinced it would have gone unseen, Palpatine would have rolled his eyes at the noble response. "And you must be the one to do it?"
"He was my Padawan." Qui-Gon explained as they shot up in the cylinder, "No one else should do it."
"I see," Palpatine turned his head away, with the slightest twist of his lip, "Well, I'm sure no one envies you the task."
O
His eyes were closed and his breaths were even.
The time is here, my apprentice.
His mind's eye opened, and an imprint of his Master's shadowed countenance dominated all else.
The start of our victory is here…if you can do what the Dark asks of you. If you can overcome your frailty.
He was absolutely motionless within himself. There is no frailty, my Master. The Jedi are an obstacle. Obstacles are meant to be mowed down.
Yes, Sidious rasped, And there can be nothing left.
Nothing left. He repeated. The will of the Dark-your will-is my purpose.
I will join you shortly on Coruscant. See to it that you have made progress by then.
Yes, Master. His lids ascended, and the room was bathed in black silence. I will.
O
Anakin looked at Yoda, who was perched on a chair, features lax in meditation. Then he glanced at Bruck.
"What's it like to be a Jedi?"
Bruck tried to see the boy as he himself had been: a child grasping to his hopes. He tried to see Anakin as an innocent kid mixed up in a complicated situation. But he had ever seen Obi-Wan Kenobi as a wall separating him from the attention of Qui-Gon. And with Anakin Skywalker, it was no different. He knew, deep down, that it was wrong. He just couldn't help it. "It's work, kid. It's a lot of work."
"Oh," Anakin shrugged with a grin, "Well I've done lots of work."
Bruck grunted and walked out of the room.
Anakin sat with his knees to his chin, studying the small, simple room.
"Work, it is, young one." Yoda murmured, "Much discipline, you will need."
Anakin's focus was drawn to the small creature. "Discipline?"
"Mmm. Understand that life is balance, you will, with training."
"Okay." Anakin was quiet, staring down at his feet. "Bruck doesn't like me." He blurted.
"Still searching for balance, he is." Yoda smiled warmly, "But like you, I do."
"Thanks," The boy felt his chest lift a bit, "I like you too. And Master Qui-Gon." He frowned, "Is Master Qui-Gon going to train me? What about Bruck? And the one coming back to Coruscant with us?"
"Patience," The old Master soothed, "Calm your heart, it will."
"I never feel calm." Anakin admitted with a shallow drop of his eyes.
"Sense that, I can." He nodded, "But calm, you will be, with the Force."
Anakin thoughtfully chewed on a corner of his lip. "Do only Jedi have the Force?"
"No, young Skywalker." Yoda's eyes took on a certain gloss. "Touch far more than the Jedi, the Force does."
O
There would always be darkness, Qui-Gon Jinn realized, as midnight turned air to shadow. He rested his chin lightly on his apprentice's head, willing sentinel for these lonely, long hours.
The only lights had been swarmed and smothered, save a single, trembling glow in the distance. He walked down the line. His steps were heavy, resounding in his ears and forcing unison with his heart.
The beating was slow. He felt it, albeit faintly, against him. The horror of the visions-the content of which were still veiled from him-had lessened, and the child slept, swathed in the worn fabric of robe and security. Qui-Gon glanced down at the face.
The eyes stared at him, twin blades of crystal. He saw them, though he was not yet at the threshold.
There was still so much ahead. He had come into his role with hesitance…even fear.
He couldn't allow the slightest shiver. It seemed that intimidation would be a player in this. There could be no equality, no balance. One would have to stand taller.
But his apprentice was destined for greatness. He had been a fool to delude himself into thinking otherwise. In his arms was the hope for the Jedi, perhaps for the Universe…and the answer to his isolation.
He wasn't alone; he was only too aware of the Chancellor's sleek strides, somewhere beside him. He had meant to retrieve the Jedi's prisoner without accompaniment, without even Master Yoda to support him. The cause of this terrible, surreal situation belonged to him. He had been guardian over that child, those years ago.
He trailed his finger down the soft cheek. It became the purpose of every teacher, to ensure their pupil prospered. That the student surpassed those that taught him. The warmth that flooded his soul whenever he thought of the Padawan startled Qui-Gon, again and again. This one was—different. So full of trust, so worthy of his trust.
And that child had betrayed him. That child had abandoned everything-his home, his friends, his Master-in favor of strangers. Now, the things of Light, shed so recklessly, were the things foreign to him. That which had made him Obi-Wan Kenobi was gone. Obi-Wan Kenobi was dead.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was precious. He drew the slumbering child closer, to ward off the night's chill.
The Darkness owned him.
He would guard against that cold, always.
Qui-Gon's fingers were frozen. He curled and uncurled them as they approached.
He would fight the shadows.
The door loomed. He felt the Force ripple—then change.
For yes, there would always be darkness…
The roiling black threatened him, as he waited to enter.
Reaching with deceptively calming fingers…
Then the barricade between the hall and the room vanished.
But he would match that darkness…he would overwhelm it…
And the pale, bruised face assaulted his eyes.
There would always be darkness, but not for his apprentice. A gentle sigh was carried through the silence, and Qui-Gon watched the parted lips close again. He smiled.
Qui-Gon's mouth was pressed into a hard, straight line.
Doctor Marlwen acknowledged the arrival with a knowing nod. "Master Jinn, Chancellor Palpatine." He knew no one was in the frame of mind to exchange niceties, "His recovery has progressed on schedule. His wound has healed, and his strength is almost completely restored. He doesn't have any clothes, aside from the gown the hospital provided," A sardonic smirk, "But that shouldn't prevent him from going into Jedi custody."
Qui-Gon glanced down and swallowed, barely hearing any of it.
"Master Jinn, you do plan on restraining him in some manner?" Palpatine asked. "You, and certainly the Jedi, cannot risk him escaping."
His fingers moved in a trance to the cuffs, kept in his tunic. They had the basic design of handcuffs, but were resistant to the Force. He rubbed his touch along the icy steel.
If he had expected the captive to be solemn, he had been mistaken in his assumption.
"The Jedi risk everything either way." Obi-Wan informed them, as though he were merely relaying predictions of the coming weather.
Palpatine smiled, chuckling lightly. "It appears that you are the one who has risked too much, with your clumsy, untrained attempts, young Kenobi. If you believe the Jedi a simple obstacle, then you are ambitious to the point of idiocy."
The monitors had been unplugged, so if the comments had stirred anything within Obi-Wan, it went unnoticed.
Qui-Gon went forward, opening the shackles with a sharp click.
Obi-Wan glanced at Marlwen. "It's been lovely, Doctor. Promise you'll write?"
The heavy circles locked around thin wrists. There was no struggle.
Marlwen helped his patient stand. Then, when the Master had placed a reluctant hand on Kenobi's shoulder, he backed away. Palaptine joined him.
Qui-Gon turned to the dark-haired physician. "Thank you," He bowed, "Your help has been greatly appreciated."
"As yours has been." Marlwen replied, with a gleam of respect.
"Yes, Master Jinn," Palaptine added, in his slightly uneven voice, "You have been vital in the reinstatement of freedom on Naboo. We're in your debt."
But Qui-Gon shook his head. "There are no debts here, Chancellor. I think we've all paid."
O