Chapter 14: Shifting Sky
"Do you believe that the future can be changed?"
The man and boy lay on the large rock in the middle of the garden, shoulders just barely touching, as they gazed up at the gray-flecked clouds.
"Yes, I believe that," Qui-Gon said gravely. "Odd little moments that seem like coincidences can have huge impact on what follows. A kind word or deed can prevent a sorrowful being from doing something drastic. Or a general can lend his cloak on a cold night to a sleeping assistant, and days later die of lung-sickness. Indeed, sometimes the largest events turn on the smallest hinges."
"Do you believe that darkness is inevitable, born into a person? That a man can be born with evil in his soul, and it will always come out, when he is young or when he is old?"
Qui-Gon considered, watching the clouds drift by like waves in a tossing sea, continuously changing. "No, I don't believe that. I was told that if I ever called on the Dark Side, it would forever dominate my destiny. So I am ever-watchful against that. But dominate is not the same as control. If I ever did touch the Dark Side—though I don't intend to, never fear, my young friend—even then, I would resist it with everything within me. It would always be harder to fight, perhaps, if I once surrendered to that easy power, but I would never stop fighting."
"Do you believe that another person would fight as hard as you would?"
"Well, it depends on the person." Qui-Gon frowned, watching strange images form in the shifting clouds, the outline of a rearing dragon fading to a cowering rodent, a ship in full sail transforming to a meaningless collection of shapes. "I know that you would never turn, Obi-Wan. I heard you say as much to that knight who brought you here, and I heard the conviction in your voice. You have made a commitment to the Light, and you will never waver. I know that as I know that my love for Julune is eternal, and hers for me."
Obi-Wan rolled up on one elbow to look into Qui-Gon's face, and the man saw the small, lovely smile. "Thank you."
Qui-Gon felt that he had won a prize, struck some sort of cosmic jackpot. That was twice this morning that the boy had smiled at him, this after never before coming close in all the time they had spent together. And it was one of the most beautiful smiles Qui-Gon had ever seen, in all his wanderings across the galaxy—it glowed in the bright blue-green eyes, shone behind the bruised skin like the delicate tint of sunlight through a fading mist. Only Julune's smile was more beautiful in Qui-Gon's eyes, and this was a very close second.
Obi-Wan rolled back to lay flat again, his head now touching Qui-Gon's shoulder. "It wasn't me I was thinking about, though."
"Who, then? Someone I know?"
The boy made a noise that said neither yes nor no.
But Qui-Gon suddenly understood. "You were thinking of Master Dooku, weren't you?" Obi-Wan still hadn't said whether or not he felt he could trust the Jedi, and Qui-Gon had not pushed him to answer. It was enough to simply lay together in this little garden, to watch the turbulent sky and talk of things inconsequential and otherwise.
Obi-Wan took several deep, slow breaths, outwardly very still, though Qui-Gon guessed that it was much different within. At last he nodded, the movement small and guarded against the man's shoulder. "I don't . . . I don't understand a lot of what I see in my dreams. It is enough to catch an image here or there—an impression, a strong feeling. Those stay with me very well indeed—they haunt me, I guess is the right word. And one of them . . . one of them was Master Dooku's face. He was smiling, and . . . and he carried a red lightsaber. I've never seen a red lightsaber outside my dreams. But I read, or I heard somewhere . . . that . . . that the Sith carried red 'sabers. I dreamed this before I met him, Qui-Gon."
For a moment Qui-Gon could not breathe. He turned his head, looking away from the sky that seemed suddenly too dark, too shadowed for midday. But he could only see part of that pale young profile, only enough to watch the sandy-red lashes flutter as the boy blinked, then continued staring peacefully upward. "You saw . . ."
The boy nodded gently, tipping his head back and craning his neck so Qui-Gon could see the earnest, slightly worried look in his eyes. "He had a different name, though. Not a master. It was . .. Darth? Or . . . Count . . . oh, I can't remember." He flopped back with a frustrated grunt.
Qui-Gon looked back at the sky. He thought about Master Dooku sitting in his common room, lurking behind the long leaves of the druisa plant with his presence tucked away in a shadowy corner of the Force, and the strange, almost yearning look in his eyes as he studied the sleeping Obi-Wan. He remembered the way Dooku railed against the Order for letting powerful talent slip away, for distrusting strong emotion instead of dealing with it. And he recalled the uneasy set of Obi-Wan's shoulders as he looked at the Jedi, and the ferocious glint in Julune's dark eyes.
"But you said that you would trust Master Dooku with your life," Obi-Wan said softly. "And you said once . . . you said that we would find a new path, that we would find a way to set right what is wrong in the galaxy. Or did I dream that?"
"No," Qui-Gon said gently. "No dream. I said that. And I meant it."
"Then . . . do you believe that it's possible that Master Dooku could find a different path, too? That the future could be changed?"
Qui-Gon swallowed. But truly, there was only one answer he could give to that. He had already said it, after all. "Yes, I believe that."
Silence reigned for a time. Qui-Gon listened to the rustling of the grass, the leaves, the gentle tinkling of the Alderaanian wind chimes Julune had hung outside the back door. A speeder passed by on the street, the sound of its laboring engine muted and distant. Far away, like thunder across a vast plain, came the muffled boom of an explosion in one of the countless mines that pocked the surface of Bandomeer like an infestation of desperate survival.
Obi-Wan drew in a deep breath and released it in a sigh. "Then I trust him, too. For now."
X
Qui-Gon finished rinsing the sweetberries and put them in a bowl, then carried it out to the common room where Dooku and Obi-Wan already sat on the floor, eyeing each other with wariness and curiosity. It was odd to see such similar expressions on such different faces, one old and bearded and habitually guarded, the other young and worn and innocently open. Qui-Gon just shook his head and sank to a cross-legged position beside them, setting the bowl in the center of their three-cornered circle. He had fetched the sweetberries more in the hope that the boy would snack a bit than as a gesture of hospitality toward the visiting master, but there was no need to say this.
"Ah, fresh berries!" The Jedi said with that wide, white-toothed grin of his, scooping up a few. "Thank you, Qui-Gon. Now, are we ready to begin?"
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan looked at each other for a moment, then nodded solemnly. They turned slightly to face each other more fully, practically closing Dooku out of their tight little circle. The boy extended his hands first, allowing them to be engulfed in the man's broad, brown palms. Qui-Gon smiled warmly, and after a infinitesimal hesitation, Obi-Wan smiled back. Jackpot again.
Dooku cleared his throat, and they reluctantly looked back at him. The Jedi tipped his head in apology, but his eyes were determined. "Before we begin this shared meditation, I need to be sure of something. Is this what you both want? Force-bonds, especially of the kind I can see developing between you two, are very strong. At this early stage, it would be relatively easy to cut it off and let it wither away, avoiding all the complications. But if you choose to strengthen it, it will dig deeper into your spirits, and will continue growing until it cannot be erased or diminished, neither by time nor by distance. You will be able to feel each other, know when the other is happy or sad or in physical pain, and the other's perceptions may even seep into your own, especially if you have difficulty learning how to shield. It will always affect you."
The Jedi Master looked between them, his face very grave. "I want you to understand. This is a serious decision. This is forever. Are you prepared for that? Is this what you desire?"
Qui-Gon looked into the boy's eyes, and saw no wavering there. The blue-green depths were steady and open, questioning only if Qui-Gon agreed, not his ability or his trustworthiness. Neither by time nor by distance . . .
"Yes," Qui-Gon whispered. "This is what I desire."
Obi-Wan merely nodded.
"Very well," Dooku said softly.
Without another word, they sank into meditation, falling through the thin layer of physical reality into the first level of the Force, where the currents of the present met and mingled in varying shades of light and darkness, deep purple shadow and yellow-white brilliance. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon found each other quickly, their nascent bond guiding them, and it didn't take the Jedi long to hone in on the beacon of their combined presence. And there they floated, three tiny sparks in the reaches of space, three grains of sand in the sea, three motes of dust in the endless cathedral that was the Force.
Ah, you've found each other. Very good, Dooku said without much surprise. Now we must go deeper. Whose mind shall we enter first?
Mine, Qui-Gon offered immediately, feeling a dim flush of fear from the boy. I'm more used to opening myself to you, and it's been a very long time since I've had any Force-training, so I'm sure I'll need much more work.
As you wish.
Qui-Gon looked inward to his personal shields, and carefully pried up a corner to allow entrance into his mind. He could not prevent a shiver of unease at the thought of letting two others into that inner sanctum, but he trusted both the man and the boy with a firm, unwavering faith. Dooku slid inside without hesitation, but Obi-Wan paused, studying Qui-Gon with gentle concern.
Are you sure?
I'm sure, Qui-Gon said, watching with faint surprise as a soft globe of white spread out in the Force around them, dissipating as it expanded but still lightening the darker currents and strengthening the brighter ones. Its epicenter was the youngster who floated there beside Qui-Gon, completely at ease in this non-physical world. It was Obi-Wan's selfless care, Qui-Gon understood after a moment, and his own little shock of unexpected joy at that softly-voiced question, that had caused the gentle wave. It was affecting the Force itself, influencing the currents. Obi-Wan seemed utterly oblivious, both to how deeply moved Qui-Gon had been by his instinctive concern and to how it had changed their surroundings.
By all the twinkling stars, this little one had a lot to show him.
Come in, Qui-Gon said gently. We have much to learn, you and I.
Obi-Wan sent the impression of a nod, and slipped inside with the softness and ease of a warm wave lapping over wriggling toes at the edge of a lake. He fell into Qui-Gon's mind as if he belonged there, as if he always had, as if this was home and it had been missing the boy as much as he had missed it.
And this was just as it should be, Qui-Gon thought with an inexplicable surge of delight. This was exactly as it should be.