KEYnote: Am I taking liberties? Fuck yes. But I got a free pass to make an unknown character a badass, and a badass character more badass, the latter I am having be about the same age as Rey. Also, do note that his story started in late 32 BBY, chapter 15 was edging into 29 BBY. And fuck the EU and canon's grasp of dates.
Outer Rim. 30 BBY: a Year Before Rey's First Official Mission.
Chapter 16 - The Assassin and his Apprentice
He had not set out to be an assassin, especially not a well known assassin who had earned himself the title, The Mor, the one man army.
No, that had not been his goal, but in the spirit of his old Master, it had just sort of happened.
As a Jedi Shadow, his job was to remain invisible.
And while he had kept his identity as a Jedi hidden, he had been placed into one too many positions in the crime world of Nar Shaddaa where the only options had been violent and deadly.
Which oddly did not compromise his mission. Jedi Shadows were originally organized thousands of years ago to hunt down and destroy any Sith or Sith artefacts, and while there were some among them who still did this, a thousand of years of Sith not existing had changed their job criteria. Namely, they were spies and insurgents who worked in the Outer Rim, trusted to work independently from the Republic and not fall to the Dark Side.
Some Shadows got to explore the meanings of the universe, others acted to disrupt possible hostile empires that posed a threat to the peace of the Republic.
He was not fortunate enough to get such a station where his actions seemed to result in the betterment of intergalactic peace.
Because in his humble opinion, the only way to save Nar Shaddaa was to wipe it out completely.
Of course, his station wasn't without purpose, the intelligence he had gained over the years being in the wrong places at the right time, had indirectly prevented many horrors orchestrated by the Hutts and other scum to come into fruition. And he had helped his fellow Jedi on their missions if they were unfortunate enough to wind up here.
Feemor sighed to himself as he dodged someone throwing a bucket of some substance best not overanalyzed out their window.
When he had been a Padawan he had once begged Qui-Gon to take him to the underworld, just once, he had just wanted to see, to know what lurked beneath their feet.
That had always been Feemor's defining characteristic, his Force damned curiosity. A curiosity for everything, that had pushed him ahead of his initiate group in all subjects, that had earned him Qui-Gon's attention, though the Jedi Knight had scarcely been ten years his senior. Feemor's thirst for knowledge and success had earned him a knighthood at nineteen, younger than most.
Feemor had come to see his Master as more a brother than an elder, that was until Xanatos's fall to the Dark Side had destroyed Qui-Gon's understanding of self-worth, driving him to push away anyone who cared for him.
But that had been long ago, and he doubted his old Master, if he still considered himself such, would even recognise him.
Feemor had abandoned his brown robes for black, shrouded himself and his weapons under a black cloak and hood.
He wondered if anyone would recognise him, even the Council and his fellow Shadows would probably pass him by. He carried no lightsaber, his Shadow dual-bladed saber having been dissolved in acid within months of his landing on Nar Shaddaa.
The Mor carried two short swords and two blasters, and if one was very unlikely, they would discover his penchant for carrying and creating incendiary devices.
As a Shadow, the Force was his ally, as an assassin, no one could rival him. He stalked the streets of Nar Shaddaa like a herald of doom. Nar Shaddaa, so like his homeworld of Coruscant in many ways, but here the above world was as despicable as the underworld.
Did it bother the Mor that wherever he went fear greeted him? That the mere glimpse of his silhouette was enough to invoke dread in even the darkest of hearts?
No. Maybe it had once, but the Mor was a practical creature, and no matter how much blood stained his hands, the Light stayed with him.
Let Qui-Gon forget him, the Mor needed no one's approval to know that no matter how dark his deeds, he remained true to the Light, to the Jedi.
Or at least this what he told himself as he entered a glass elevator that would take him to a gilded gambling den.
He gazed at his reflection, his cold blue eyes seeing through the hardened expression.
Feemor couldn't fool himself. In his heart, Qui-Gon would always be his brother, no matter the years. That he had grown his blonde hair out long to mirror his Master's was no small reminder.
The elevator dinged, and the Mor stepped into the room.
The music skipped a beat, and every face turned to gawk at him.
Windu would have slashed his Shadow title if he had seen this, but the Council didn't watch them that closely. As long as they got the information to the Council, as long as they did their jobs, no one cared in practice what they did.
He stepped further into the room and the band resumed their song when he glared at them. Walking to the bar, his cloak swirling around his feet, he ordered something that might take the edge off his headache caused by the smoking spices in the room.
"Hey, Mor," a Twi'lek woman named Delilah came up to him.
He caught her wrist before she could touch him, he met her gaze.
He had shared a bed with her only once, thinking that the contact of another person would ease his longing for home that had been steadily growing in recent months.
He had been wrong.
It hadn't been money that passed between them, but she had slept with him only because she had been hoping for power, prestige.
Afterwards he had felt worse than used. "Leave," he said.
She laughed, pressing her body against him, but he squeezed down on her wrist until she gasped, her eyes widening in sensible fear. "Leave," he repeated.
He released her abruptly, and she fled.
The Mor turned his back on the room, the Force informing him of all the eyes that tracked his every motion. That would fade. The novelty of him entering a space. In fifteen minutes only a few would see him, in a half an hour, he would be seen only if he wanted to be seen.
The Force was at work around him, clouding their minds. Because he used the Light Side, their fear was what allowed them to notice him at all. But no one on Nar Shaddaa held onto their fear of any one person who wasn't hurting them that long. On Nar Shaddaa fear was as prevalent as air, you either learned to live with it or you went insane.
The informant he was waiting for showed up two hours late, not surprising. The Mor didn't really care, nowhere was home to him on this city wide moon. Waiting for information in this spice rack was no different than waiting for time to pass on his ship. At least hear he didn't have to mix his drinks himself.
His Palliduvan informant was higher than smog that blocked the sunlight.
"One Army Man," he greeted, his grey skin had a sickly blue colour.
A Jedi in the Republic might have tried to help this sad creature.
The Mor had seen too many overdoses to think anything he could do would help.
The Palliduvan staggered against the counter and the Mor knew he didn't have long, "What do you know?" he asked, his tone emotionless.
He felt so old.
"Overthrown, overthrown, doe-doe-mir, doe-doe-doe," his informant glittered, then said something in his native tongue that was too fast for the Mor to follow.
He took a deeper drink from his tumbler. He was ready to leave this assignment. He didn't envy the person that would take his spot but he was done.
Even if the Council had started taking a more hands on approach, the specific information they asked him was far more interesting to hunt than chasing blindly after conspiracies.
But as he listened to this poor fool babble, his life's presence wavering in the Force. The Mor was done with it all.
Maybe it was time he returned to the Temple and take on a Padawan of his own.
He pitied his would be Padawan, but he was sure there would be an initiate no one else would want, even if he had to wait around for a few years.
"Where were they spotted?" he asked, interrupting the Palliduvan.
"Rattatak, Rattatak, Rattatak-tak-tak, tak," the last word was slurred as the Palliduvan began to foam at the mouth.
Mor's heart clenched. He paid his tab, leaving his drink unfinished.
He left with the Palliduvan's last words still echoing in his head, Rattatak-tak-tak, tak.
The informant was dead before the doors of the lift closed.
Mor closed his eyes. In the brief moments of privacy, Mor let himself grieve, grieve for every creature cursed to be born or brought to the moon.
Nar Shaddaa was living hell, and Mor had to leave it before the horrors he had seen, had committed, caught up with him.
He was a high profile assassin, only taking hits on the worst of the worst. The type of targets that the Republic would have hidden away and silenced than admit such evil could exist under their democracy.
The Mor knew better, knew evil like this existed in every civilization, Nar Shaddaa was just a concentration of it, an inescapable shoulder to shoulder every day dealing.
The Force brushed his senses, and he sighed, surrendering his grief and resentment and sense that there was no purpose to anything. In return, the Force gave him a direction.
Rattatak.
It was time for him to move on, if he stayed any longer he would become the very thing he fought against.
oOo
Back on his ship, Mor pulled back his hood, and called the Council.
Windu, Yoda, and Koon appeared in hologramatic images.
Usually, Mor didn't use holograms, not wanting to appear in any form before the council. Not cloaked in black wearing more weapons than an enthusiastic Mandalorian.
But he was about to ask to return home, and after two decades of Nar Shaddaa, he would leave the Order if they turned him down now.
Yoda seemed to know this before he could say a word, "Return home, you wish, Master Mor."
How Yoda had learned of his assassin title, he would never know, as far as he knew, there were no other Jedi informants on this moon.
But then, he couldn't monitor the entire city and twenty years was long enough that his guise was probably known throughout the Outer Rim.
"Yes, Master," he said, letting the tiredness show in his voice. He always played it bravely before them, but he was done.
"Return you may, return your Shadow's saber you must. Welcome you are to rejoin the other Masters or become a Temple Guardian."
He tried not to slump, "I would like to return with the other Masters, however, I'm afraid I cannot return my Shadow's saber."
"Why not?" Windu asked, "You can make another. I know one can grow attached to their weapon but the Shadow blades are too distinctive."
Mor bowed his head, "I'm afraid I cannot return what no longer exists."
"Ah, destroyed it was," Yoda remarked catching on.
"When?" Windu asked.
"Years ago."
"How many years ago?" the Vopaad Master asked.
Mor tried not to wince, taking on a tone Qui-Gon had perfected when speaking to the Council, nonchalant ignorance, he said, "What was the year that I left Coruscant again?"
"Shadow, are you telling us you haven't used a lightsaber in two decades?" Koon asked.
Mor shrugged, "The Force is my ally, I need no other weapon."
Aside from the fifty or so he currently had on his person.
"Shadow," Windu said warningly, "That weapon was-"
"An artefact, yes, as well as a clear sign of 'hey, look! I'm a Jedi!' Do you know what they do to known Jedi on Nar Shaddaa? What they do to known Force sensitives?"
"That's why we stationed you there. To keep such things from happening," Windu said smartly, "Not so you could play assassin of the generation."
Mor had to even his breath before he gave into the rage inspired by that taunt. The Dark Side seemed to be calling him stronger each and every day.
But he would not fall. He refused. He called on the Light and let it wash him clean of the excess emotions. His voice was toneless when he answered, "And have I not done all that you've asked of me?" He thought of several Padawans and a Knight or two he had saved when they were swept into the Black markets.
"Your methods are questionable."
"Don't take it personally, Shadow," Koon said, "Mace is simply upset because Dooku has been pulling his leg all afternoon."
"I am not upset because of Dooku."
"The Count of Serreno has returned to the Temple?" Mor asked.
"Sit on the Council he does," Yoda said.
Mor was surprised by this, wondering how Qui-Gon felt about it.
"Your methods notwithstanding, you are free to return Coruscant, Master Mor."
He bowed, but said, "I have one last mission. An informant told me of something happening on Rattatak."
"Rattatak," Yoda repeated, "Hmm… years ago Knight Ky Narec was suspected to have landed there, but no communication could reach him."
"Ky Narec?" Mor echoed, "Why do I know that name?"
"A creche-mate of Qui-Gon's he was."
He felt his eyes widen, remembering the man who had graduated to Knight two years after Qui-Gon had chosen him as a Padawan. "I remember him, he liked to feed the birds, didn't he?"
Force help him, one would think the life of an assassin would drive the nostalgia out of him.
"Yes," Windu said in a disgruntled tone, "he had failed on his mission and although, we did make contact with the remnants of his ship."
"Was there no rescue sent?" Mor asked.
"The ship's computers said all on board had perished."
"Odd," he said, "droid core ships are not standard Jedi models."
"No," Koon confirmed, "But Master Mana, his Master, feared that he had run from the Order because of his failed mission."
"I see," Mor said, knowing that the order didn't have a habit of going after those who left quietly. Many Jedi fell, but only Masters earned a bust in the library for being among 'the Fallen', as Count Dooku's had been.
"On Rattatak, may the Force be with you ," Yoda said.
"And with you, Masters," Mor said, bowing to the holograms.
Koon and Windu bowed as the holograms winked off.
Mor sighed, as he started the engines. Freedom from Nar Shaddaa at last. He could almost feel the Dark Side hooks loosen in his heart.
oOo
Mountains, what a beautiful sight.
Okay, Rattatak wasn't exactly beautiful, but there was ouster loveliness to the bare stones and the warmth of the sun.
The Mor didn't have long to enjoy it as he pulled his hood over his head and descended into the underground, following a man who had looked at him with greed glimmering in his eyes, too stupid to be afraid.
He felt the death in the stones as they walked into a viewing station outlooking a cavern with peoples of various origins fighting to the death.
And among the gore and the screams were two lightsabers wielded by a slim figure.
Green and blue.
A female Dathomirian Zabrak he determined, his mind racing through the missing persons list the Jedi Order had.
She fit none of those descriptions, and she most certainly was not Ky Narec. Mor wouldn't have recognized his saber even if he held it, but he knew Ky's saber had been blue.
He watched her fight, not jumping into the rescue because she didn't need it.
Her style might have been Niman, or at least inspired. Her style was less a form and more a graceful hacking of any opponent fool enough to charge her.
Talented, extremely talented. But he felt the pain and the fury flowing off her in waves.
Glancing around to make sure there were no species known for Force sensitivity, he risked lowering his shields to reach out to her.
He flinched at the Darkness that he encountered, but pressed on.
Padawan? He questioned as she rested a moment as she waited for her next foe.
The Mor felt her startle, she looked up into the stands and caught his gaze immediately.
She bared her teeth at him, then ran at the largest creature in the stadium.
Her fury increased, and Mor felt her desperation, it took him a few minutes to realize she was trying to impress him.
"A Jedi," a yellow Weequay said from beside him, "Quite valuable."
The Mor didn't respond at once, acting as he had not heard the retch.
The Weequay swayed from side to side.
Mor didn't so much as flick a glance in his direction.
"She took over the planet once," he blurted, "This Jedi, angry she was, spent years killing all the Warlords, but new ones rose in their place and no one here owed her anything. She's a savage little beast. A fit pupil for an assassin."
When he answered his voice was deliberately bored, hardly deigning to be interested. "She is no Jedi." He had learned to lie well over the years, "I do not see an apprentice. I see a rabid animal. She is worth nothing, if I will be forced to kill her the day I buy her."
Not that he didn't have money.
Killing people for a living was absurdly lucrative.
"She will be loyal to the person who-"
"Holds her leash?" Mor finished for him, watching the woman's rage spike as someone stepped on the edge of her skirt.
The offender was dead in a moment.
He was thinking hard. He couldn't bring a Dark Sider to the Temple, an unknown Padawan this immersed in the Dark could be imprisoned on principle.
He supposed he could take her to Dathomir. The Nightsisters were known for using the Dark Side. He would have to take away her lightsabers though.
He sighed internally, as he felt the Force call him to her.
He had told himself he wanted to take on a Padawan, hadn't he?
"You doubt your capabilities, I thought they called you the One Man Army?" the Weequay mocked him.
The Mor had his blaster pointed and shot before the creature could say another word.
Qui-Gon would have been horrified.
But Qui-Gon didn't know as many slavers as Mor did, they truly were not worth the air they breathed.
Another Weequay came up simpering, and picked up bargaining where his dead coworker had left off.
They didn't even attempt to move the body as he tried to negotiate the price.
The Mor listed a sum, the Weequay tried to argue, but when Mor said nothing else the price was accepted without bargaining.
Why did buying someone's freedom make him more queasy than stepping over the body he had made dead?
Because life shouldn't be measured in coin. Death was just natural.
"Bring her to my ship," he commanded, not looking back or waiting for confirmation.
His manners were going to have to change when he did finally return to the Coruscant.
Asajj Ventress screamed when she saw the retreating back of the Force sensitive she had felt brush her mind.
Padawan. Padawan, he had called me Padawan!
And he had left as quickly as he had arrived.
She didn't know who he was, didn't know if he was Light or Dark but she wanted out of the Cauldron. She wanted to complete her training, she wanted more power. That dark cloaked man had been power, he could give her the keys, the strength to bow to no one ever again.
She slaughtered the rest of the bodies in the arena. She stood in the centre of the domed killing pit, ready for the darts.
Less ready for the electric fence that came down on her when she leaped out of the way of the sleep darts.
She screamed, having enough sense to turn off her sabers before she fell on them. She felt the familiar prick of a dart nipped at her shoulder.
Her world blackened, and she knew she would be no better off when she woke than she was now.
Mor contacted Master Dooku as soon as he returned to his ship, his Master's Master called him back, his hologram image appeared, looking nothing like a Jedi in his cloak and fancy footwear.
Not that Mor could throw stones about attire. He probably looked like a stereotypical Sith Lord.
"Master Feemor, what an unexpected pleasure."
"Master Dooku, welcome back to the fold."
"Ah yes, I'm sure the Shadows are rather invested in such matters."
"Yoda was worried for you."
"He should not have been," Dooku said drily, "Was there a reason you called me in particular."
"Serreno is close enough to where I am. I was hoping to see some scenery before returning to the Temple. I was wondering if you might know the current leadership there?"
"I do, and your request is approved. Would you like me to arrange a place for you to stay?"
That was easy, Mor thought, immediately suspicious, "I take your influence on the system is still substantial?"
"As I am still the Count of Serreno, I would certainly hope so."
Mor blinked, "I thought you were elected as a Council Member."
"I am both. Master Yoda bent the rules."
"Yoda never bends the rules."
"The times change."
"Hardly."
"I assure you, I was surprised as you are," the man drawled, "Now would you like me to have a room prepared? My sister would welcome you at my palace."
This was surreal, but Mor didn't lose focus as he felt the fallen Padawan's Force signature approach his ship. "No, I thought I might land my ship in the wilderness. I've had my fill of people."
"Nar Shaddaa is a hard station, I can understand not rushing to return to Coruscant. I will send you coordinates that should be free of citizens. May you find solace in the Force, Shadow."
Mor was about to say goodbye but asked on impulse, "Do not tell Qui-Gon I plan to return."
"I will not share that we have spoken."
"Thank you, Master Dooku, may the Force be with you," he said, signing off as a knock came on his ship's hatch.
She had burns across her face, as if she had met with an electric net.
The Dark Side opened its arms to him.
He ignored it.
"What is your name?" he asked, her speaking over the Weequay.
She sneered at him, "Asajj Ventress. Who are you, Master?"
He tilted his head, had she realized he was a Jedi, there was too much sincerity in the last word.
One of the Weequay jerked on her restraints, "Bow to him, he is the Mor."
Her eyes widened as she looked him over.
He was pleased when she did not bow.
"Her sabers," he ordered, hand held out.
The two sabers were placed in his hand. It had been a long time. He ignited one, the blue blade coming to life. A familiar friend.
"Careful-" the Weequay warned.
It was the last word any of them heard as the Mor cut them down, the lightsaber feeling like deadly wind in his hand.
Asajj Ventress stood motionless, her captors forming a singed circle around her.
"I am Master Mor, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Padawan Ventress."
She blinked pale eyes at him, "How did you know who I am?"
"You fight like a Jedi. I am a Shadow, I heard there was a Jedi in need of assistance, I came."
"You did not come for my Master."
His suspicions were confirmed, "Knight Ky Narec was not considered missing as he left the Jedi Order."
"Liar!"
Mor called the key to her cuffs to his hand, tossing it to her, she had her cuffs off in a matter of seconds.
She marched up to him, pointing an angry long finger at him, "My Master was a good man!"
"I knew him, I don't disagree. He and my Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, were raised in the same year."
"Qui-Gon?" she asked, her anger faltering, but she didn't back down from him.
She was wary of him, but not afraid. Mor smiled to himself, perhaps this would work.
"He was Master Dooku's apprentice, wasn't he? My Master spoke of him."
"He was, yes."
She glared at him, "The Jedi abandoned Master Ky Narec."
"Knight Narec left the Order, as he was free to do. We don't make our people stay."
"He was stranded here!"
"Was he?" Mor asked without sympathy, "This planet has technology enough. How many years did he train you? How many opportunities did he have to call for help?"
He felt her anger swell and she hissed at him, "The Jedi did not come."
He brushed that aside, until she calmed down, she wouldn't hear anything he said on the subject. "How long did he train you, Padawan Ventress?"
He watched her stiffen, she responded to the command even as the Dark sang sweet seductions in her ear, "I- he found me when I was five years old. He raised me until I was fifteen."
"And is this what he raised you to be?"
She looked at him, confusion and vulnerability, shining in her eyes.
He regretted how harsh he was about to be, but if there was any hope for her, he couldn't allow her to slip further into the Darkness than she already had. "A half crazed Dark Sider with no purpose other than destruction."
Perhaps it was the wrong thing to say.
She roared, flying at him, hands clawed.
He punched her.
She dropped to the ground, and she didn't get back up.
"Sith-spit," he cursed, that hadn't gone well.
He thought he felt the Force laugh at him.
Sighing, he hooked her sabers to his belt. Carefully, he bent down to carry her onto his ship.
He hadn't punched her that hard, he thought. But she must have been exhausted after her time in the Cauldron, and Force only knew what she had been eating or if she had been well hydrated.
Zabraks, he knew, could take a lot of damage, but everyone had their limits.
He sighed again, tucking the fallen Padawan in a sleeper. He put some ointment on her face and scalp.
He closed his eyes, asking the Force for guidance.
Mor went to the cockpit, finding the coordinates Master Dooku had given him, he set course for Serreno.
If Asajj Ventress was meant to be his Padawan, then they would find their way.
Asajj woke on the Mor's ship.
She lay still for a long moment before sitting up, ready for a fight.
Her head swam and she ripped off the covers, gazing around her, the Dark sang for her rage, but she quieted her mind, feeling for anyone on the ship.
She felt nothing.
Touching a hand to her cheek, she found ointment on her electric burns that the Weequay had given her.
The Weequay Master Mor had cut down with the speed of a diving sparrow.
She had given herself to the Dark Side for power, but Master Mor was more deadly than she had ever been.
He was the Mor.
But she had felt him like a Light, how could he kill so easily and remain a Jedi?
Of course, Master Ky would never have punched her out, so maybe there were different kinds of Jedi.
He had called himself a Shadow, she didn't know what that meant but there was a certain implication there.
Did she believe what he had said about Ky?
Could Ky have called for help? She had always believed he had, but if he hadn't…
She pushed it aside, taking inventory of the ship. There was a tray of food and four glasses of water beside the sleeper.
Asajj drank two glasses of water before digging into the food. He could have killed her a dozen times over, so she trusted the food wasn't poisoned.
And it was so much better than the slop she had been eating the last two years.
When she finished, she drank the last two glasses of water before exploring the ship. She found a refresher, and was glad to see in the mirror that the burns were mostly healed, if still tender. She frowned at her bare skin.
She was Dathomirian, she should have been tattooed by now, but then she had been too lost in her bloodlust since Ky's death to really think about that.
The Mor wasn't on the ship.
She could have stolen the ship, she could have gone anywhere. She could have gone to Dathomir and found people like her.
She almost did, but she thought of the Mor, how centred he had been, and she wanted to be like him.
She wanted to be feared, like him.
The planet they were on was surreal, the climate was temperate, the sky impossibly blue, the ground impossibly green.
She found Master Mor cross legged on a rock, his hood down, his blonde hair a golden contrast to his black robes.
"I could have stolen your ship," she informed him.
"You are welcome to it, Padawan."
"Why do you keep calling me that?"
He opened his eyes, as blue as her own, "Because it is what I wish you to be."
Asajj was floored, "You want to take me on as your Padawan?"
"Yes," he said serenely.
She narrowed her gaze on him, "Then why did you punch me?"
He winced, "That was not how I had planned on that meeting going. In the future, don't go for my eyes, I'm rather fond of them."
"I don't understand you."
"That is not surprising."
"You called me a half crazed Dark Sider, why would you want to take me as your Padawan?" She regretted the words as soon as she said them, she wanted him to train her. She was not helping her case.
"Because you are currently both, a Dark Sider, and a Padawan who is far from completing their journey to become a Jedi Knight. I would like to teach how to be the latter, but it is your choice. You can take my ship if you like, or I can take you wherever in the galaxy you would like to go if you do not know how to pilot a ship. I'm sure the Nightsisters would welcome home a strong Force sensitive such as yourself."
"That's the second time you've offered me your ship? Why would you give it away?"
"It's just a ship," the Mor stated, before standing.
"Hey!" she shouted, "Where are you going?"
He didn't answer, walking toward a mountain range.
She followed, a half an hour later she asked, "Where are we going?" Having to dodge a branch that hung low over the path he led her.
"Patience, Padawan, patience. Let your frustration go to the Force. Breathe, listen to the bird songs around us."
"I don't care about the damned birds," she growled.
"You should, the birds are as much a part of the Force as you and I."
His words tugged on a memory, Ky had been fond of birds.
Her hearts hurt.
"Let the pain go," Master Mor said, "Death is natural, your Master is with the Force now."
She hissed, twisting the pain to power, "His death gave me power."
"His death left you alone, he failed you. If not for himself, he should have called the Order so you could have been a part of us. The Jedi do not abandon their own."
"You are naive," she told his back, "Everyone will betray you in the end. Ky was the only one who didn't and he was stolen from me! It was the Jedi's fault!"
The Mor did not turn to face her as he climbed ever upward, "Who's fault does it matter? Time is made up of millions of choices, and made of millions more people who make those choices whom you will likely never know. Fault does not matter. Ky is dead, there is nothing in this world that can bring him back."
"I hate you!" she snarled, again regretting the words.
The Mor did not acknowledge her exclamation.
She waited for him to reprimand her as Ky always had when she lost her temper, and she was left waiting.
The Mor left her to her own thoughts. They climbed for three hours.
They reached the peak of a shorter mountain, the peaks of others rose around them.
The Mor finally turned and pointed behind her.
She turned, and her breath caught.
Clouds painted by sunlight rolled over the uncultivated landscape. Fields, sparkling lakes, lush trees, all saturated in more colour than she had ever seen before.
She did not know how long she stared, but finally, the Mor spoke, "I would like you to be my Padawan, Asajj Ventress. But if you accept my offer, I'll expect you to follow a path of Light."
Asajj forgot about the pretty landscape and turned on him, "I want power, I want people to fear me as they fear you. That cannot be found in the Light."
He stood directly in front of her. She did not back down. "I do not like that people fear me, Asajj. But I became what I had to in order to accomplish my missions as a Jedi Shadow. However, though I hear its beckons, I have never fallen to the Darkness."
"But you kill people! You've killed hundreds, if not thousands! You are the Mor!"
Mirth filled his blue, blue eyes as he said, "Killing people is easy, Padawan Ventress. You don't need the Dark Side to destroy. Nor will destruction bring you happiness. Keeping life alive is harder and much more worthy of your pursuits, young one. I see it in you, the Light, your hate is strong because you cared, because you knew compassion."
"You know nothing!" she snarled at him, "You don't know me!"
"I know that falling is easy," he said, raising his hand out to her.
The Force shoved her back, and for a moment, the world was suspended in that weightless moment as she realized he had thrown her off the cliff.
She didn't have time to feel that betrayal, only to register the mourning in his eyes.
As if the Mor might cry at her passing.
She didn't scream as she fell to her death.
But it was not the impact of stones that welcomed her, but a mountain stream fed lake. It was so cold she almost let herself drown at the shock of it.
Coming to her senses, she fought the water and her skirts to swim to the surface. She crawled onto the shore, falling every time she tried to stand as her heavy skirts had lengthened, drenched as they were.
The Mor stood at the water's edge, his hood pulled back, his golden hair seemed to glow in the sunlight.
She looked back at the cliff she had been pushed from, then back at the dry wizard. How in the name of all the stars, did he get down here so fast?
"Falling is easy," he said again. "Swimming in layered skirts," he grinned, the bastard had dimples, "not so easy."
Asajj had never been more confused by a singular person in her entire existence.
He offered a hand up to her, "I do not offer you an easy road, Asajj Ventress, but I offer you a future fuller than the one you have imagined, Padawan mine."
She took his hand, and the Force passed between them like a warm breeze, a sparrow's warbling song rang through the clearing.
One Year Later. 29 BBY. Current Timeline. Coruscant.
Bringing Ventress back from the Dark had not been easy. She had a volatile personality and her instincts seemed to drive her to rely on her emotions.
But the Mor was well used to weathering volatile personalities, and though he couldn't kill his Padawan when she got out of hand, he found that despite his lack of practice with a lightsaber he was skilled enough to plough her down in a spar.
He was equal parts frustrated that Ky Narec had not brought her to the Temple and grateful that he now had the opportunity to teach Asajj. As angry and hurt as she was, underneath it all was a compassionate lost child.
They were a good match, and while walking her back to the Light, he found himself again.
He would always be the Mor, but in the rolling fields and mountains of Serreno, he found his equilibrium again. He no longer felt that life was an unending series of unfortunate events.
The first day Asajj had laughed had been when she found him awakened from a 'meditation' in a bush he had somehow fallen into, it had also been the day he found his hope again.
He almost lost her, the day he brought her to Dathomir, believing she needed to confront her past. Her birth mother had welcomed her home with open arms and an open heart.
His Padawan, seeing that she had not been willingly sold had dropped to her knees before her mother. Some long held grief and anger leaving her.
Mother Talzin, the leader of the Nightsisters, had touched Asajj's bare head.
"Come home to us, sister."
But Asajj had looked back to him, and though it would have broken his heart, he said, "Follow your heart, Padawan, the Force will be with you, wherever you choose."
Asajj had stood, bowing her head to Mother Talzin, "I am a Jedi, Mother."
Mother Talzin kissed her brow, "Then you will leave with our blessing." She had touched Asajj's cheek then, "You are a grown female, if you allow it, I would like you marked as one of ours. For you can be a Jedi and remain a Dathomirian."
So now, with black tattoos accentuating her face, patterning around her ears, and lines swirling around her arms, Padawan Asajj Ventress had finally been brought home to the Jedi Temple.
Coruscant was a cleaner vision of Nar Shaddaa, at least on the surface.
Mor found himself missing the peace of Serreno as he landed their ship.
Asajj was wide eyed as they landed. "It's so big," she murmured.
He said nothing, he wasn't sure if he was happy to be back or scared to face the memories he knew waited for him.
Windu waited for them, his eyes looking them over with a scowl.
Dressed in black as they were, they definitely looked like Sith Lords.
The Mor smirked at Windu, who scowled harder.
"Welcome home, Shadow Mor," he said, before eyeing Asajj who met his scowl with a smirk of her own.
Through their training bond, he could feel that she was nervous, but Asajj Ventress had a swagger that could make her an empress even if she was wearing nothing but chains.
"This is my apprentice, Padawan Asajj Ventress."
Windu sighed, "I should reprimand you for not informing us you had taken an apprentice."
"Are you?" Mor asked, surprised that this was even a question.
"No, because currently among Qui-Gon's prodigies, you're the one I trust the most."
Mor blinked, did Mace Kriffing Windu just pass up a chance to lecture him?
"I was under the impression that Kenobi played it by the book," Mor said, still having his informants over the years, "Hasn't Yoda been delighting in how much the boy takes the Council's side over Qui-Gon's?"
"No, it's not Kenobi, it's the other one that is causing mayhem at every turn," Windu said with a sigh. He turned back to Asajj, "Welcome home, Padawan Ventress."
Asajj bowed her head, in wordless acknowledgement.
"Qui-Gon has a fourth apprentice?" he asked.
"Would you like to rest or would you like to meet her?" Windu asked.
He looked to Asajj, who shrugged, "I am not tired."
"Lead the way," Mor said, swallowing the spurt of panic at the idea of meeting Qui-Gon again.
He didn't really have much interest in Qui-Gon's apprentices no matter how much trouble they were causing.
The moment he walked into the Temple, however, he began to worry for a completely different reason.
The Temple didn't feel like it had two decades ago, or maybe he had changed, or -something was wrong. His every instinct honed as a Shadow was set off. He had been warned of course, that Shadows could become paranoid, thinking everything and everyone had a shard of the Dark Side, which in Mor's assermation, everything absolutely did. But the Temple…
"Master?" Asajj asked, reaching out to him, "What is it?"
He shook his head, "Nothing."
Nothing pressing anyway. He didn't feel as if he was about to be attacked, at least.
"This is a palace," Asajj stated as they descended toward the training wings.
Windu didn't look back at her, "It is functional."
Mor hid a smirk, remembering how Qui-Gon complained about the decadence of the Temple.
Mor didn't think he was wrong though, and after living on Nar Shaddaa and then Serreno, that the Temple felt more like the former seemed an ill omen.
"Why are we headed toward the initiate wing?" he asked as they turned left, Asajj his pale shadow.
"Because Padawan Palpatine is serving out her punishment with Master Yoda with the initiates."
Mor winced, "What did she do to deserve that? And did you say Palpatine, as in a relation to the Senator of Naboo Palpatine?"
"Yes, she is his daughter."
Interesting, the Mor mused, his name had come up in several of his computers and droids left behind on Nar Shaddaa. Naboo was close enough to the outer rim that a few of his 'clients' rubbed shoulders with its politicians. His disappearance had made ripples. Enough ripples too make Mor suspicious of such a figure.
They went up to a viewing section where he found Qui-Gon, Dooku, and Kenobi with their backs to them.
Qui-Gon turned first.
And it was a punch to the gut to see his old Master greet him with a warm smile, "Feemor, I'm so glad to see you."
He was at a loss for words.
Kenobi turned with a curious expression on his face, and Mor wondered at his long Padawan's braid. Hadn't he graduated yet?
"Welcome," Dooku greeted, "Master Mor."
"Mor?" Qui-Gon asked.
He finally found his voice, "It is my preference these days, Qui-Gon, let me introduce you to my apprentice, Padawan Asajj Ventress. Asajj, this Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi. And Master Dooku, Count of Serenno and Jedi Council member," he couldn't keep the irony out of his voice on the last part.
They all bowed.
The Force danced between them all in overly active presence. He knew Yoda was below them in the training room, Mor could feel the grandmaster like a star in the Force. Mor tightened his shields, he shouldn't have been this aware everyone, it was almost distracting.
He really was surprised that no one was questioning Asajj, he had even warned her that she might be treated as an outsider.
"How have you been, my old apprentice?" Qui-Gon asked, then added with a smirk, "I like what you have done with your hair."
Dooku rolled his eyes, "You are a terrible influence, Qui-Gon."
Mor was taken aback, had Qui-Gon just acknowledged him formally? "I'm well, the last year on Serreno has done wonders for my disposition."
It was Asajj's turn to roll her eyes, as she walked forward to stare down at the initiates. Mor joined her as he asked, "So Kenobi, may I ask why you have yet to be knighted if Qui-Gon has taken yet another poor soul as a Padawan?"
Mor's gaze lit on the girl running with a pack of seven year and eight year olds behind.
She was lean muscle, better shape than even Asajj, he had only seen the most elite dancers with a form like hers. And she was as old as Asajj too, too old to be a new Padawan.
Kenobi answered as he began to piece things together, "Rey is a bit of special case."
"You're all 'special' cases," Windu remarked, leaning against the balcony, "Qui-Gon all your Padawans have been touched in the head."
"Hey," Kenobi remarked, "I am not crazy."
Windu gave him a look before returning his gaze to the Padawan cheerfully egging on the initiates like a squadron coach. "You keep up with her on a daily basis, Padawan Kenobi, you are not normal."
Kenobi shrugged it off, "I'm taking my trials soon, I was just delayed because Rey was inducted at nineteen."
"Nineteen?" he repeated, looking to Qui-Gon, why hadn't anyone told him about this?
"Surely someone told you," Windu remarked, echoing his thoughts.
"No, it must have slipped your minds," he said drily, frowning down at the girl. The Force flexed around her. He opened his shields again, and let out a small gasp.
He hadn't been sensing Yoda at all, he realized. It was the girl.
"Doesn't she have any shields?" he asked before thinking.
"She's a slow learner when it comes to some things," Qui-Gon said, smiling as she caught an initiate before he fell down one of the obstacles.
"In others she is less slow," Dooku remarked. "Like creating lightning without calling Dark Side of the Force."
Mor raised a brow.
"She blew a hole through one of the Temple's walls," Windu supplied.
Mor raised both brows.
Asajj asked, "Jedi can make Force lightning?"
Kenobi smiled at her, "Rey can make actual lightning."
"What do you mean 'actual' lightning?" Mor asked.
"I mean she makes the actual lightning and thunder," Kenobi said, "And she can explain it to you, and it will make perfect sense, and yet none of us has figured out how to duplicate it."
The pack of initiates completed another lap around the obstacle course. Padawan Rey Palpatine looked as if she was leading a small extremely hyper army into battle, as they let out battle cries, working together an almost terrifying unit to get through the course.
It had been a very, very long time since he had been an initiate, but he had some fond memories of that obstacle course, and Yoda grumping at them all to take it seriously.
This group looked like they were having a wee bit too much fun.
"Not to state the obvious, but if your Padawan is being punished for something, it doesn't look like she's having a hard time."
Qui-Gon smiled, "I told Yoda this would backfire on him."
Mor watched the girl closely, and he had to agree. She looked like she was having fun, and as she ran circles around the initiates, almost herding them through and across each obstacle, he remarked, "Has she even broken a sweat?"
"Nope," Kenobi said, "she's been scouting on Kashyyyk for the last few months and practices Ataru flips in her freetime. This isn't a tenth of what we usually do in the mornings."
"You want to join her?" Qui-Gon asked his senior Padawan.
Kenobi stuck his tongue out at him, "I was an initiate, I have no desire to be down there."
"What did she do to end up training with initiates?" Mor asked, thinking the punishment almost sadistic, if the girl didn't seem to be enjoying it so very much.
Yoda was in the centre of it all, looking like an island of calm in a turbulent sea.
"She befriended a group of Mandalorians and let them reconstruct her lightsaber with Beskar," Qui-Gon said stoically.
Mor stared at him, waiting for the punch line.
Windu said, "Don't sound so smug about it. She could have been in real danger."
"Rey's first trip to Ilum ended in her getting attacked by thousands of years worth of ancient Sith ghosts and you want me to be concerned with her lowering tensions with a previously hostile group of warriors?" Qui-Gon retorted.
Mor was floored by this, "Excuse me? What did you just say? Are you telling me that your Padawan was the one to fundamentally change the balance between Light and Dark in the Force?"
Qui-Gon looked at him, "You felt it in the Outer Rim then?"
Mor was aghast, looking down at the Padawan with new eyes. She shone for all to see, and the Sith ghosts had gone to her? Why? What secrets did she carry to have that type of connection.
Dooku remarked, "Oh, look, they are starting to tire."
And by 'they' the Count meant the initiate's because the Padawan was almost skipping back and forth between the two groups of children racing forward and dragging behind. She left no one behind, cheering them all on equally.
Everyone of those little younglings was going to hero worship her for the rest of their days. No one played with the initiates, not like that.
"She's crazier than you are," Asajj remarked.
Mor sighed.
Qui-Gon grinned at him and Mor couldn't help but smile back. It had been a long time, but their shared history meant something.
Windu sighed, "Dooku, I blame you for it all. And no, Rael is not better."
Dooku smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes, "I gladly take such a charge."
The initiates did one more lap. Rey jogged in place behind the last youngling attempting to jump through loops on the ground. The others were cheering him on in exuberant voices.
When the last finished, the group cheered, then collapsed dramatically at Yoda's feet. The class was rendered perfectly quiet as they relearned how to breathe.
Rey was the only one standing, smiling down at the little ones like a fond teacher. She bowed to Yoda who stared up at her and wordless confusion.
Mor fought not to laugh, feeling the grandmaster's confusion in the Force. When he continued to say nothing, she took it as a dismissal. She jogged over and leaped the twelve feet in the air to their viewing section, easily swinging her legs over the rail.
"You know," she said, "I don't think Master Yoda was that mad at me after all. That was pretty fun. The younglings are adorable."
Mor bit back a smile as Dooku laughed, and Windu threw up his hands. The Vaapad Master left shaking his head.
Kenobi grinned at her, "It should scare people that you're more hyper than a pack of seven and eight year olds."
"Not really," she said, "They're too small to have built up real endurance."
Qui-Gon pulled on her braid fondly, "I think you missed his point, Padawan mine."
She looked at Mor, and Mor felt her see him through the Force, it sang around him and he stood very still.
The Force had been Mor's only companion for a long time, as a Shadow, he had been trained in ways that most Masters couldn't even fathom, but standing next to this child, he felt as if the full attention of the Force was on him.
It was unnerving.
"Mor," Qui-Gon said, and he was glad he used the correct variant of his name, "This is Padawan Rey Palpatine, Rey, this was my first apprentice, Master Mor, and his apprentice, Asajj Ventress."
"A pleasure to meet you, my dear," he said.
She hopped off the ledge and before he knew what was happening, she had him in a hug.
It was the first true hug Mor had had in over twenty years. He stood frozen and she pulled away from him before it grew awkward.
She squinted at him, "You'r-" she stopped herself, cocking her head, and glancing down his body.
She shouldn't have been able to see or sense a thing on him, but though she had no shields, his shields seemed to be non-existent to her. Plus she had probably felt some of what he was carrying when she hugged him.
"You are a walking arsenal. You wouldn't happen to be the Mor, would you?"
"Who is the Mor?" Kenobi asked.
"Yes," Asajj answered, her tone superior, clearly taking stock of Rey as an opponent and coming to the conclusion she was something to worry about, "he is."
Rey looked at him, "Sweet."
He raised a brow at her, "You're not afraid?"
She grinned, "You wouldn't kill one of your fellow Padawans would you?"
"That depends, I didn't like Xanatos much."
She waved it away, "Yeah but he's already dead."
"I'm sorry," Kenobi interrupted, "How did we go from introductions to homicide?"
Rey motioned to him, "He's the Mor." As if that explained it all.
Which to anyone from the Outer Rim, it would have explained it. "Where did you find her, Qui-Gon?" Mor asked.
"Tatooine," he answered, "she was the mechanic who fixed our ship."
"Ah, that explains it," Mor said, appraising the girl with new interest, "here I thought you were Nubian."
A frown crossed her features, "I've been a scavenger the majority of my life."
Not, he noted, a denial.
"Who is the Mor?" Kenobi asked again.
"He's the best Assassin in the Outer Rim," Rey told him, "The One Man Army, he's killed hundreds at a time, a kill count in the thousands, the Scourge of Nar Shaddaa, the Mor."
Qui-Gon laughed, "He's a Jedi, Rey. Feemor would ne-" but he cut off when he saw Mor's expression. "You aren't, are you? She's exaggerating."
"No," Mor said, waiting for his disapproval, "she isn't. Such a guise was necessary for my position."
He couldn't read Qui-Gon's face, neither approval nor disapproval.
Kenobi on the other hand was horrified, "But why?"
Rey punched his shoulder, "Because it's Nar Shaddaa. You think the underworld of Coruscant is scary? Nar Shaddaa is eat or be eaten. Sucks that you got that station," she said to him, "I wouldn't go to Nar Shaddaa unless I needed to rescue a specific person, living there must have been hell."
Mor looked at this little ball of light, who had not moments ago been happily jumping around with a group of younglings who somehow knew enough about Nar Shaddaa to not only understand some of the severity of his mission but had an idea of what it had cost him.
Sometimes he didn't think the Council even understood what they asked of him.
Dooku, who was the newest on the Council in Mor's view, watched him sadly, as a native of Serreno, he had a clue as well.
Mor didn't want their pity.
But Rey's attention had drifted to Asajj.
He thought she was admiring the lyrical tattoos, Asajj took the attention as a challenge.
"What are you staring at, girl, never seen a Dathomirian Zabrak before?"
Rey's face lit up, "You're a Dathmirian Zabrak? You look nothing like my friend, you don't seem to have any horns."
Asajj curled a lip, and almost growled, "That's because I'm not a male, you fool."
Rey didn't take the insult, it seemed to flit past her, "Neat, I didn't know there were such differences between males and females."
"Females are vastly superior in our race. Females are more intelligent and more powerful, the males are brutes."
Rey laughed, "I'll be sure to inform Maul of your high opinion of his gender then."
"You think I care?" Asajj asked.
Kenobi stepped in, "She didn't mean anything by it. Right, Rey?"
"Mean anything by what?"
Mor was getting a headache, he had sort of been hoping Rey and Asajj would get along having both been brought to the Temple as adults.
That didn't look to be the case.
He put a hand to his temple, why did he have a headache? He was well used to Asajj's mood swings and Rey's presence seemed to make the Force happy, so why…
He looked up at the ceiling. He tried to see into the stones with the Force.
"What is it?" Qui-Gon's voice cut through his wandering thoughts.
Mor looked at him, "This is going to sound strange, and I don't know if it is my time away or if I'm finally growing paranoid, but the Temple feels sick."
"Ha!" Rey exclaimed, "I told you I'm not crazy!"
"Rey," Kenobi sighed, "you just agreed with a Jedi assassin. That doesn't make you less crazy."
"You feel it too?" he asked her, ignoring the other Padawan.
She nodded, "I feel like the walls are watching me. It goes deep. I found it in the underworld near the Temple too. There's something wrong."
Dooku spoke then, "She had a psychometry vision triggered by the Temple walls not long after she first arrived here."
"What did you see?" Mor asked.
"A black figure beat me up. He tried to get me to use the pain as power, to use my hatred and rage to pull on the Force."
Mor growled, "Sith."
"Why would there be shades of the Sith at the Temple?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Perhaps because our archives house a number of artefacts," Mor guessed, though that didn't explain the very walls of the Temple being corrupted. "This is something to discuss with the Council at a later date, I think."
Maybe a few of the other Shadows should make a detour home to see if they could locate the root source of this infection.
"Obi-Wan, why don't you take Rey and Padawan Ventress on a tour of the Temple."
Asajj looked to Mor for help, but Mor thought she needed to learn some social skills, he sure as the Force was mighty, not going to be the one to be able to teach her social graces.
Maybe he should give her to Dooku for a few lessons.
As if reading his thoughts, Dooku said, "Come, you three, I'll take you on a partial tour then we will retire to my apartment for some tea."
Asajj continued to stare at him for help, pleading with her baby-blues.
He smiled at her, "My Padawan would be honoured."
She gave him a betrayed look, but resigned herself to following the proud Count from the hall.
Leaving Mor with his former Master.
"Come," Qui-Gon said, "I could do with a cup of tea as well. And perhaps you can explain some of this assassin guise to me."
The Mor sighed, suddenly wishing he had spared Asajj, only to prolong this much needed reunion.
oOo
Mor sat in his Master's rooms, his collection of memories having grown much larger over the years.
He couldn't help but smile at the glass wind chimes in the corner.
Mor had bought them as a gift for Qui-Gon on the day he had earned his knighthood and Qui-Gon his Mastery.
Qui-Gon poured him a cup of tea, "Rey is partial to those chimes. This room is her favourite room to meditate in the entire Temple."
The Mor let his senses explore the room, he was no touch clairvoyant. But he could feel the lack of Darkness here, "This room is filled of things with your Force signature."
Qui-Gon sat and sipped his tea.
They were quiet for a time, and this room was to Mor, more than anywhere else on Coruscant, his home.
It was good to be back. It was impossibly wonderful to be back with Qui-Gon.
Memories of them together threatened to overwhelm him, especially those with Tahl. The three of them had found themselves in a great deal of trouble, often in those days. Qui-Gon had been much more bull headed and full of ambition.
The days when they believed they could change the galaxy if they just tried hard enough.
The Council had despised them.
"I know how you took my words when last we spoke," Qui-Gon said finally.
Mor said nothing. What was there to say? Qui-Gon had let his insecurities demolish what they had together, taint even his relationship with Tahl before she passed. He had placed too many of his hopes in Xanatos. Qui-Gon's idealism had nearly been his own ruin.
"I didn't mean you to believe that I denied you as my apprentice."
Mor gritted his teeth, the old wound, long scarred over was a phantom pain, "Then what did you mean, Qui-Gon? And do not feed me retro-active regret. I was there, if you remember."
"I remember being distraught and being a fool and pushing away nearly everyone who cared for me or needed me. I know what I said, but what I meant was that though you were my apprentice, it was not my teachings that made you who you are. We were both so young. You taught me as much as I taught you. We were brothers, you never needed a Master to become a knight, but Xanatos was the youngling who I brought to the Temple, he was the boy who I chose and took as a Padawan.
"He shouldn't have been brought to the Temple away from his family, he shouldn't have been chosen as a Padawan. I failed him. My choices, my teachings led him to the Dark Side. But you, Feemor, you never needed me, you were independent, and you were my friend. By the time you graduated we were equals. I think you were perhaps the better knight, I did not deserve the title of Master then."
Mor went silent, finishing his first cup of tea, and letting Qui-Gon pour him a second.
Mor let the resentment and self-doubts he harboured go. He looked at Qui-Gon, his equal, his peer, his brother, and finally understood what the man had been getting at. He sighed, Mor really should have known that Qui-Gon, who had not been a wordsmith in his youth, would say something as idoitic as he had and simply assumed people would garner his true meaning rather than take his words at face value.
Mor sighed again, Oh, Qui-Gon.
He set down his cup, "Qui-Gon, did you ever think that perhaps seeing the best in someone, seeing past their faults was not a weakness? Kenobi was overlooked by everyone, and only in your fear did you almost not give him a chance as well. The actions of others are not your fault."
"Xanatos was my fault."
"Xanatos might have made a great Jedi had Yoda not tested him so soon."
Qui-Gon, ever the stubborn man when it came to his own perceived failures, said, "Yoda saw what I did not, better that he broke then then after he had a Padawan of his own or been placed on some vital mission."
"Or perhaps a Padawan might have changed him."
"Yoda-"
"Qui-Gon, what you are missing is that Xanatos was a normal person. Talented, yes, but a normal person. There are many things one could have changed or not changed, done or not done. We often ask our Knights to be exceptional, and most are, but many are simply given time to rise to the occasion.
"You are not the same man who trained me as the one who now trains Kenobi and Palpatine. Perhaps Xanatos fell where they will not, both because of who they are and because of what you have to offer as a teacher."
"I can not be absolved of all my mistakes."
The Mor nodded, "I know that you have made the same mistake with all four of us."
Qui-Gon bowed his head, "And what mistake is that?"
"You gave us the trust and the freedom to choose for ourselves. Yoda does not make such mistakes, yet both his Padawans sing in the Dark."
Qui-Gon stared at him, "You've changed. I did not foresee you choosing a life as a Shadow."
He shrugged, "I was curious."
"Curious about what, Feemor?"
He smiled, and he knew it wasn't a kind expression, not one that anyone who knew him would recognize. "I wanted to see how far I could push myself, how close to the brink I could go before falling over the edge."
Qui-Gon looked at him with dark blue eyes that knew it was too late to come to the rescue, "Was it worth it?"
Mor was quiet for a long time before he stated, "I have proposed to the Council that no Jedi be stationed on Nar Shaddaa. Missions when needed, of course. But it is a place of near complete darkness, and even Shadows need light to exist."
"Did they heed you?"
"They have."
They said no more, and Qui-Gon did not push him.
Mor feared that his life's work had been worth nothing, that the crimes he had committed had only added to the suffering of the galaxy.
He gave that fear to the Force, and the Force did not desert him.
AN: Reactions, thoughts, ideas, or renowned assassins in need of hugs?