Picture this, Qui Gon Jinn: on a still and silent night, as the clouds creep out to veil the stars, there is a storm inside a silver tent.
The Jedi Master felt it as tangible as raindrops. The crackling electricity and the gusts of ferocious winds that tossed the young autocrat side to side, back and forth, in her restless search for sleep. And the quiet patter of autumn rain from his Padawan's corner of the tent. His Padawan who, in truth, had done nothing wrong when there had been no choice left to him but to deal a lethal blow today. His Padawan, whose quiet mourning cascaded and pooled in the Force all around them. A quiet plea for understanding, deflected by another flash of lightning.
The Mandalorian's unguarded hatred churned and sparked through the Force. The righteous hatred of the Mand'alor for the killer of a Mando'ade. And a deeper, shameful anger that was not, admittedly, entirely foreign to Qui Gon Jinn. An anger that was born from an undercurrent of hurt. The sort of hurt that told Qui Gon that the Duchess Kryze had come to care for his Padawan.
This was not, of course, the first indication of the fact. They had travelled together now for half a year and the signs had been obvious. Qui Gon Jinn sat back against the sheltering tree and reminded himself that the journey was Obi Wan's to travel.
Obi Wan. His beautiful Padawan. Who for so long had been too angry, too righteous, too bleeding-hearted. Who gave no answer of his own to the storm that engulfed him tonight. Whether this uncanny patience was a gift of the tranquil Force or an expression of his care for the Duchess was not a question that Qui Gon Jinn would allow to trouble him.
He was surprised when his contemplation was interrupted by a real raindrop – a drop of Enceri's famous rain – upon his face. He lifted his hood and wrapped his cloak more tightly about his body, and felt the slow cooling of the young Mandalorian's rage, until it faded entirely and it was clear through the Force that the Duchess had fallen asleep, and Obi Wan with her.
Their enormous day, all the distance travelled and the blood spilled and the roaring emotions, was dissolved down to a precious moment of stillness. Qui Gon Jinn closed his weary eyes and thanked the Force for its small mercies. For autumn rain on a windless night. For boots and a warm cloak. And for the steady breaths of the Padawan who would, he believed, come back to him. Let him fall in love. Let him fall with the quiet rain and rise again with the sun. So long as he came back.
Short and sweet. I worry that we don't get quite enough Qui Gon in LOTCK, so I wanted to put this up. I hope you enjoyed :)
xx - S.
