Trick-or-Treat
By Jemmiah
Miserable. And alone. Not to mention utterly fed-up. That was how Jemmiah was feeling.
And it was all Evla's fault.
Whilst Jemmiah had wits enough to realise there had been no malice behind her guardian's decision not to let her go 'stravaiging' round Coruscant, as Evla had so quaintly put it, the Corellian child couldn't help but feel extremely hard done by in this instance. She'd tried everything to get the crèche master to change her mind but none of the usual tricks worked: the batting of eyelashes, the pleading and cajoling, the promises and begging, the foot-stamping…Evla had been impervious to all of them. Jemmiah didn't know whether she should be more upset at not getting her own way for once or worried that Evie was rapidly wising up to the way she operated…
The feast of Wekkren was a big deal throughout the Republic, no longer just a festival for the Corellians whose trickster-like god had spawned the occasion named in his honour. Well, you had to be important to have not only a day of the week named after you but a festival, too! At least that was what Jemmiah had told Evla…
"It's a huge occasion!" Jemmy had wheedled, wringing her hands in despair. "I can't not go with the other kids! I'm Corellian! Wekkren is a Corellian god! What if I offend him by not going?"
"I'm sure he'll understand." Had come back the dry reply. "And I'm not having you wandering round the streets of Coruscant pouncing on innocent souls and pelting unsuspecting adults with flour and Tooni Fowl eggs! Is that clear?"
Jemmiah had furiously bitten her lip. They had no intention of pouncing on anyone, certainly not unsuspecting souls like Evla had said! What was the point in that? The whole idea was to ask the adults for money or candy and suchlike…
Then pelt them with eggs if they didn't agree!
"It's organised begging." Evla had said curtly. "I don't mean to dismiss someone else's customs or rituals, sweetheart, but this one is utterly pointless - and cruel as well. Putting firecrackers in someone's speeder if they don't pay you? Dressing up in ludicrous outfits and terrorising the local population? Thank the force there's nothing like that in the temple!"
And that had been Evla's final word on the subject.
Jemmiah had found herself pouring her troubles out to Qui-Gon of all people, who had listened with a surprisingly sympathetic ear and a neutral expression, even although Jemmiah had known exactly whose side he would come down upon. How could he not agree with Evla when he was joint guardian with the crèche master? The two of them always backed each other in matters of importance, although in the grand scale of things Jemmy doubted that being banned from Wekkren festivities would send shock-waves of revulsion throughout the Republic. Perhaps what Qui-Gon had understood, where Evla had not, was the importance that the festival held for his young ward.
"I realise you are disappointed." Qui-Gon nodded, noting the way that Jemmiah's shoulders dropped on hearing his words: obviously she had been expecting his adjudication to find in Evla's favour. Sometimes with Jemmiah it was difficult to tell when she was deliberately trying to play at being more miserable than she really was, but on this occasion Qui-Gon was assailed by a genuine feeling of dismay and misery. He frowned at her for a moment, letting his thoughts dwell upon that sensation of hurt magnified by the force, experiencing that ache as if the emotion was his own. There was something else, too…anxiety, perhaps? A small amount of fear?
"I think you'll simply have to spend the night inside the temple, as per usual." He offered her a sad little smile. "Although I do understand that these festivities are a cultural thing as much as anything else, and I'm a great believer in people being allowed to follow their own hearts in these matters. But trick-or-treating is looked upon by adults with great distaste. You surely don't want to be seen as a nuisance by everyone, do you?"
"I'm not a nuisance!" Jemmiah glared at him. "I don't care about getting candy or money - even although it's very welcome." She added with an imperious sniff. "All I want is…"
Qui-Gon sat down next to her on the couch and folded his hands on his lap, waiting her reply.
"Yes?"
"I just want to be able to go out with the other children!" Jemmiah thinned her lips, knowing that if she ever wanted to get anywhere she was going to have to tell Qui-Gon the truth: he'd be satisfied with nothing else and besides which he would know if she told him only half the story. Jedi were good at that sort of thing, so it seemed. "I'll get laughed at if I don't go! The kids in my class are starting to like me now they're actually free of Sophie Digwurt. You know how long it's taken me to win them over…"
The master reached out and clapped her on the shoulder. "But it was worth it in the end." He said, his voice full of warm praise.
"Yeah, but if I don't go tonight I'll be laughed at and then I'll be back to square one! Quiggy, please - I don't want that to happen. You know how bad things were before and I couldn't stand it if it all started again…"
The entreaty had surprised Qui-Gon, not so much that it had happened but rather the intensity of her pleading. Jemmiah didn't have many friends, at least not close ones. She'd gradually reported a thawing in relations with her classmates, and then a rapid tolerance leading to genuine friendships, but it seemed that this only extended to the confines of the schoolroom. There were no invitations to study with friends or play with them, presumably because the children and parents alike were too afraid to have any contact with people living inside the temple. It made Qui-Gon's heart sink to dwell upon it. Moments such as these made him wonder if his fight to keep Jemmiah at the temple had been in the best interests of the child. What kind of normal life had she sacrificed by not going to live with her uncle on Corellia? No friends, no close family…
He pushed the thought from his mind. The force had guided him - and the force was never wrong.
"If they are true friends then they will understand." Qui-Gon said gently, watching Jemmiah shrinking further into the couch. It was like watching a spinypig rolling itself up into a little ball to avoid all the bad things that might attack it. "You are an individual, Tangles. You don't have to feel you must be part of the crowd at all times in order to be accepted."
She stopped herself saying, "it's not fair" just in time, swallowing back the words that automatically sprang to her lips. All the other kids would be allowed out, dressed in their home-made costumes cleverly constructed by doting parents or tailor droids. Evla, usually so keen to help in any way that she could, had simply not understood the importance of the event. If Jemmiah didn't turn up then it would confirm to the other children that the 'crazy-wizards' from the temple were unapproachable and that she ranked amongst their number.
Qui-Gon noticed the swift rejection of her unspoken words and approved of her attitude. Perhaps she was learning something from the experience afterall.
"Evla cares about you." He allowed his voice to convey the regret he was genuinely felt; wanting Jemmiah to understand that his decision to back Evla was not based purely on the need to show a united front. "And for that matter, so do I. The idea of allowing you to wander the streets of Coruscant at night without a supervising adult isn't one that fills either of us with enthusiasm. You are still only a child…an intelligent one, to be certain…but still a child. Don't take that as an insult," he smiled encouragingly at her, seeing her on the verge of bristling with hurt, "it is merely a statement of fact. And I'm afraid facts are what this comes down to in the end."
Jemmiah regarded him with large, wounded eyes; genuinely aggrieved. Why did that blue gaze stare back at her with such calm? Didn't he understand that her name would be mud if she weren't allowed to go? Something about that intense look of his almost compelled her to believe that it didn't matter - that she'd not suffer any backlash from her fellow students - but it had been so long since Qui-Gon had been a child Jemmiah doubted whether he completely grasped the realities involved…
"I don't understand." She replied, her face a picture of injured pride.
"Well," Qui-Gon lowered his voice, instantly forcing Jemmiah to lean forward to hear him; "I have always been of the opinion that everything in life is a question of balance. Evla and I…we want what's best for you and I believe that ultimately, even when we make an unpopular decision, we have your best interests at heart. We want to keep you safe and out of harms way. You wouldn't reproach us for that, would you?" He asked, tilting his head slightly to one side as if waiting to catch her answer.
"Er…no. Not exactly…but I think…" Jemmy began.
"And we have that rather clichéd view that all adults have: that we are older and more experienced. We've seen more of the world than you have at your age, and know more about its inherent dangers." He saw her about to remind him that her life on Nargotria hadn't exactly been a picnic and silenced her with a raised finger. "More generalised dangers, then. But the fact is that most clichés have more than an element of truth to them. I don't want to keep you locked up here like a prisoner, Tangles. I want you to feel free: but there's a balance to be had between safety and freedom, and it's easy to cross that line and go too far in one direction or another. Risks have to be assessed on their own merit and weighed up. Evla and I are both of the opinion," he added reluctantly, "that the notion of children prowling around the streets at night doesn't equate to safety. We've looked at the facts, considered them, and decided that there's no point in courting trouble."
"Qui-Geeeeee…"
"It's a perfect recipe for disaster, Jemmiah." Qui-Gon frowned at her, his voice become sterner. "The risk outweighs the need for freedom in this case. You know that streets are not a suitable place for a child to be: especially at night. I'm sorry to be harsh, but the decision is final. And before you mention that there will be a whole posse of you," he continued, not giving her time to interrupt, "that doesn't change my mind in the slightest."
"You always said there was a compromise to be found in every situation so long as you looked hard enough!" Jemmiah whined, staring down at the floor in an admission of defeat.
The tall Jedi master sighed. It was difficult letting someone's hopes down in such a way, especially someone so young as Jemmiah. At that age, even when as an initiate or young padawan taught not to desire or crave anything, it was easy to raise one's expectations too high - and be disappointed as a result. Jemmiah didn't even have the luxury of Jedi training to fall back on. Still, it was hardly the end of the world and he doubted that she would take too long to get over the edicts set down by Evla and himself, especially as they were for her own good in the long run.
"That's is something I firmly believe in." Qui-Gon agreed, feeling the hope surge in her once more. "But in this instance I fail to see how a compromise can be reached seeing as how the only way that both parties are going to be satisfied is with the capitulation and backing down of the other!" He drummed his fingers against the arm of the Kruskan skin couch, his brow furrowing as if to match the weathered lines in the leather upholstery. "But if you can find an adequate solution that doesn't involve you wandering unsupervised in the darkened streets of Coruscant getting up to all kinds of mischief, then I'll be perfectly satisfied."
Jemmiah smiled quietly to herself, an idea formulating in her over-active Corellian mind. She watched Qui-Gon walk over towards the kitchen area, wondering exactly how far his good nature and willingness to compromise would extend. He was a man of principles, however…surely if Qui-Gon Jinn gave his word then he would never retract it later?
Well, she thought with some small satisfaction, if Quiggy wanted her to stay safe indoors then who was she to argue?
Later that evening Qui-Gon had been sat in quiet meditation upon the wooden floor of his room, breathing slowly and deeply, feeling the force currents eddy and flow around him. He was part of the force: it was part of him. Wrapped so comfortably in its embrace, his mind clear and unfettered of thoughts and worries, Qui-Gon allowed himself to reach out with his mind towards Jemmiah, wondering if she had reconciled herself to being grounded within the temple whilst her friends went out. He'd felt genuinely sorry for her; nor had he any wish to further compound her feelings of exclusion. Maybe a small part of him wished that he could have perhaps found a compromise like she had suggested, but their differences had simply been too great to bridge…
The bond he shared with Jemmiah didn't blaze with the force the way that it did with Obi-Wan - but he was able to pick up on her with little difficulty. Not her thoughts: those he would never dream of violating…but the swirling, unprotected and unshielded emotions were easy to read. Qui-Gon was astonished to find that Jemmiah was not - as he had expected - wallowing in self-pity, but rather that she was surprisingly gleeful and happy!
"Evidently this evening didn't mean as much to her as she said." Qui-Gon mused. Children were so wonderfully fickle! No doubt she'd found something else to entertain her instead. Probably something illegal or potentially embarrassing for him! There was a sneaky, devious side to Jemmiah's nature that had recently manifested itself: nothing with any malice or downright nastiness - simply a rather creative streak with a tendency to go places it perhaps shouldn't. The worst part of it was that it was down to Qui-Gon as one of her guardians to stop that creativity going too far and landing her in trouble, whilst the maverick side of his own nature felt distinct pride in her ability to question and repeatedly test the boundaries of any situation. Maybe they were just too alike when all was said and done…
Outside the door of his room he sensed the presence of his padawan, followed moments later by the sound of knuckles rapping gently against the wooden surface, confirming Obi-Wan's appearance.
"Enter, padawan." Qui-Gon's eyes blinked open, remaining seated on the floor.
After a moment's pause the padawan opened the door: almost as wide as the large grin adorning his youthful face. Something about the triumphant, somewhat smug mannerisms of his apprentice led Qui-Gon to believe that he had something of import to tell him.
"What has she done now?" Qui-Gon sighed as he looked up at Obi-Wan.
"Who, master?" Obi-Wan frowned, looking on as Qui-Gon levered himself up of the ground.
"Jemmiah." The master answered, brushing imaginary dirt from his hands. "I thought she was feeling altogether too pleased with herself. I'm assuming this has something to do with her, yes?"
The padawan's eyes lit up.
"I thought as much." Qui-Gon gave a rueful nod of the head. "Whose hair has she managed to tie rollers to this time? Or has she been feeding cakes with rocks in them to Master Montal? Not that he'd notice…" He added with an ironic twitch of his eyebrow.
"Better than that." Obi-Wan's grin was now so bright that Qui-Gon feared it might permanently blind him. "Master Windu's outside the door. He wants to speak to you…"
Qui-Gon didn't even attempt to stifle a groan. Whatever Jemmiah had done it was obviously not just a minor incident. Was she punishing him for not allowing her to go out, he wondered briefly? And more to the point, would it have been less trouble in the long run to let her go?
"It's not that bad, master." The fifteen-year old Obi-Wan flattened his lips together so that he might contrive to look a little more serious as befitted a padawan learner. "Although I think perhaps Master Windu might take a little convincing…"
Startled by both his padawan's extreme mirth and the intriguing nature of that last comment, Qui-Gon straightened his tunic and marched briskly towards the main door to the accommodation block. The last thing he needed at this time of night was a lecture from Mace. If he were on official council business it would simply have to wait until a more civilised hour when daylight was upon them, not the neon-lighted darkness of a Coruscant evening. Although if Windu was actually there at the behest of the council he'd probably talk until the sun rose in the sky…
"Mace, can't this wait?" Qui-Gon began as he reached the doorway. "I'm sure that this…"
The sight that met him was unexpected to say the least. In the background he could hear Obi-Wan's snickering, and now he could just about understand what had caused his padawan's bout of hilarity. Mace stood there, his dark robes stained with some kind of white powder. A faint trickle of gelatinous yellow hung down from the tip of his nose, not to mention the distinctly yolk-like substance splattered unceremoniously across the man's shiny head. Qui-Gon found himself staring in slack-jawed amazement at his friend: this was not the pristine and precise Mace Windu he knew and grudgingly admired.
"In the name of Yoda's stick!" Qui-Gon exclaimed, blinking back his disbelief. "What in the name of the force happened to you?"
Mace stared fixedly ahead. "You might well ask." He answered, folding his arms across one another and revealing yet more egg-stains. "The short answer is that I have been subjected to an unprovoked attack!"
"Attack?" Qui-Gon echoed, reaching into his pocket to find a spare cloth handkerchief that had been embroidered by Jemmiah.
"That's what I said." Mace's voice was stony to say the least. "I was accosted by a group of carousing Wekkrenites! Amongst them was a rather familiar Corellian…"
"Jemmiah!" Qui-Gon clapped his hand to his head. "I specifically warned her not to go out tonight! Where did this happen?"
"Outside the council chambers!" Windu snatched the proffered handkerchief and wiped his face with it, dabbing at his cranium.
"Inside the temple?" Qui-Gon frowned.
"Unless the council chambers have moved, yes." Mace's reply was waspish. "This whole thing was deliberately engineered to target me! And it's allyour fault!"
This time Qui-Gon folded his arms, staring stubbornly back at him.
"And just how," he asked with ill-disguised brittleness, "do you come to that conclusion?"
"Because," Mace rubbed behind his ears with the white cloth, "You were the one who wouldn't let Jemmiah go out tonight! So she went to Yoda and asked if it would be possible to bring her friends round to the temple to go trick-and-treating!"
"And he let her!" Qui-Gon was totally astounded.
"Let her? Who the hell do you think threw this egg?" Mace pointed at his nose. "I know Jemmiah can be downright devious but I doubt even she is capable of throwing an egg round the corner of a wall!"
"Yoda's with them?" Obi-Wan grinned in the background.
"Take that smile of your face, padawan." Qui-Gon instructed, although if anything his own grin was even bigger than that of his apprentice. "Oh, well. If Yoda's with them there's not very much I or anyone else can do about it, is there?" Jinn pointed at Mace's chin. "By the way, there's a piece of shell just there…"
Mace glared at Qui-Gon, irritated that he wasn't being treated with any seriousness.
"I want you to reprimand Jemmiah for her part in this action." He said stiffly. "Once again she's brought mayhem and chaos to the temple. Her school friends are running amok in the accommodation wings, banging on people's doors demanding candy and money!"
"Have they floured and egged anyone else?" Obi-Wan asked, wondering if it were his place to interrupt.
"No." Mace answered flatly. "Just me."
Qui-Gon let his eyes wander once more over Mace's robe. "It's not your usual image, I grant you."
"Do you imagine I like looking like this?" Mace replied, his eyes narrowing. "I came here to show you what that Sithling child has done to me! That's the only reason I'm wandering round the temple looking…"
"One egg short of an omelette?" Qui-Gon asked politely, to which Obi-Wan replied with another guffaw.
Mace took a deep, steadying breath - although he looked far from pleased. He was clearly not going to get any sympathy from Qui-Gon, not judging by the irritating and irksome expression currently adorning his features. As for the padawan, his insolent disregard for authority had long since been noted - and Mace made a mental note to find an extremely unpleasant mission for the pair of them the moment a suitable task came up.
Qui-Gon couldn't help but smile. The compromise that Jemmiah had found may have ultimately landed her in some hot water with Mace, but with Yoda on her side he doubted that Windu would be able to carry out any reprisals against her or her friends. Clever, cunning child…the respect and pride that Qui-Gon had felt towards her suddenly tripled in an instant. Going to Yoda like that had given her a warrant to do as she pleased, whilst still preserving her friendship with her classmates. Not only that but her attempts to bring her fellow children to the temple had perhaps finally broken down the barriers between the Jedi and the way they were regarded by the outside world (even if only by a group of children). All that, and still managing to keep her own promise to stay inside the temple out of harms way.
"I've been pounded with flour and pelted with rancid Tooni eggs." Mace sniffed, his pride well and truly dented. "The question I have is this: what areyou going to do?"
"What can I do?" Qui-Gon asked with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "I know for a fact that I don't have any eggs…"
And with that he closed the door on Mace.
"Happy Wekkren." He added.