Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: Happy Valentine's Day, everybody! This chapter is quite apropos for the day... You'll see what I mean.

Also, feel free to check out my latest oneshot Grey Hair and Dry Humor and tell me what you think.

Revenge and Regret

By Kekelina

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Chapter Twelve: The Galaxy

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The door palmed open.

"Adi? I didn't expect to see you today."

"Hell, Qui-Gon."

The Corellian Jedi stepped inside the tiny, single occupancy quarters, her sharp eyes sweeping around the room and setting upon a half-open container resting precariously on the edge of a side table. The container itself was nothing special, a simple, unmarked plastoid box – rectangular in nature – a space-saver, nothing more. However, it was the contents of the box that interested Adi Gallia. For hanging off one side, as if hastily thrown in without so much as a glance, was a thin, ginger-haired braid.

Qui-Gon stepped in front of her, obscuring any further examination, and so her eyes traveled to his face. Whatever she had been expecting to find in the man who had been dealt so much heartache, she found none of it. His expression was passive, yet not weary, his eyes calm, yet not full of hurt.

He was the perfect example of Jedi calm.

She blinked. Qui-Gon raised a solitary eyebrow. "Was there something you needed, or did you simply come for a cup of tea?"

Had his tone not been so sincere, she would've thought Qui-Gon was mocking her. "Oh, no," she answered, shaking her head. "I just wanted to stop by and – "

"And see how I am?" he finished for her, sitting on his couch with grace that no other man his size possessed.

She sighed inwardly, sitting down (at his gesture) in the chair next to him. She was disappointed, she realized. She had expected to find a sobbing wreck of a man, in vain denial of the truth. That she could deal with. That she could counsel. Yet, Qui-Gon was not a sobbing wreck of a man, nor a depressed recluse. He was fine. No, he was better than fine. He was accepting, and he was moving on.

What could she say to someone who didn't need counsel?

"Yes," she admitted in defeat.

He held his arms wide, gesturing to the entire room. "What does it look like to you?"

"It looks like," she told him, "you're doing your best to pretend Obi-Wan never existed." She pointedly looked at the plastoid container. He followed her line of sight, but said nothing.

Curse him for being so stubborn. "Qui-Gon," she tried again, her voice softer this time. "No one blames you for Obi-Wan's fall." His even gaze faltered. "He made his own choices, just as we make ours."

The words were whispered so quietly she might've imagined them. "I blame myself."

"You shouldn't." Before the words had even left her lips, she knew they had been wrong. Qui-Gon didn't need a Council member to lecture him; he needed a friend.

"Two of my Padawans have turned to the Dark Side. I am unfit to be a Master."

"Nonsense. Their failure is not your fault. In time, you have to let them be responsible for their own actions." She allowed a small smile to grace her lips, a smile only a Master possessed with reflecting on memories. "You can't guide them forever."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, and Adi had the distinct impression he was trying to retain his Jedi mask and his shields. It appeared to be a losing battle. "Their turnings have come about from my inability to teach."

"What about Anakin," she reminded him sharply.

"He is not my Padawan anymore." His voice dropped a few decibels. "Besides, he almost turned…back on Tatooine."

Resisting the urge to ask him to recount the tale of Anakin's almost-fall to the Dark Side, she said, "But he didn't."

"No, not yet."

She sighed, sprawling across the chair in a rather un-Jedi-like fashion. "I know what it's like to lose a Padawan, Qui-Gon." She struggled as memories of Siri sprang forth. It seemed so long ago that she had learned of her death. It seemed even longer still that she had been her Padawan.

"You don't know what it's like to lose a Padawan to the Dark Side." His voice hovered on the edge of extreme emotional pain. She saw the battle in his face, the appearance of wrinkles that hadn't been there moments ago.

"No, I don't," she agreed sadly. And she hoped she never would. "But I do know it's the sort of hurt that not even the Force can relieve."

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Barriss stood in the center of the Council chambers, twelve eyes fixated upon her. Here, they would decide her fate. Now, she would discover her future.

"Though you are skilled, the Council has agreed that you are not ready to take the Trials."

"Yes, Master." Her voice was small and insignificant amidst the spacious room and intelligent beings. She had dared not raise her hopes on this matter, even if she had cared. Very few things seemed to matter now…

"Found for you, a new Master will be."

The task was not as simple as it sounded. Not only was it difficult for a senior Padawan to secure a new Master (Anakin Skywalker had been lucky), but in keeping with agreement between the Jedi and her homeworld of Mirial, Barriss had to be trained by a Mirialan Jedi – and most of them were busy with Padawans of their own.

If only Luminara were alive…

But she isn't, Barriss reminded herself for the umpteenth time. Luminara was dead, and no amount of wishing would bring her back.

Did she wish for revenge on Kenobi? No, a Jedi did not take revenge, but she most certainly did not wish him to remain alive. He was a monster, and Luminara would not be the last casualty of his reign. Barriss would not be the last orphaned Padawan before he was brought to justice.

Justice was what she wanted – justice for all the events that had already occurred and for everything that had not yet transpired.

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Stars twinkled in a black abyss. They revolved slowly around a center of white light, blinding, magnificent, and ethereal – the Deep Core.

Coruscant was set on the edge of this burst of light, as was Corellia, Alderaan, and other Core planets. This was the center of the galaxy, and to some, the most important part of it, for not only did it house the Galactic Senate (set on the largest city ever recorded), but it also held the Jedi Temple and its serene inhabitants, the most trusted – and feared – beings in the galaxy.

This was the galaxy and the life it held.

How small Aayla Secura felt at that moment…

A friendly, familiar presence entered her mind, and she turned on her heel (passing through the star that marked the Naboo system) to find Kit Fisto entering the map room with his trademark smile upon his face.

"I thought I'd find you here."

She smiled in return. Kit Fisto was her dearest friend and the one person she most trusted. "You know me too well."

Kit nodded silently, his eyes soft as they gazed at her. She turned swiftly back towards the map-reader before he noticed the small amount of blush creeping into her cheeks. So many time she had wondered…but no.

"Is everything all right?" she asked upon turning back around and finding weariness written across his face.

Aayla was the only one Kit allowed to see him so vulnerable. "It just…this whole Ob – Kenobi ordeal."

She nodded in understanding. Obi-Wan Kenobi had always been a friend of theirs, and his turning was painful to both of them, especially in the wake of Master Unduli's death.

"And to top off that," Kit continued, coming to stand next to her, "we're," he meant the Council, "still assigning Jedi to offworld missions, which I do not agree with. I believe that we should keep all Jedi within the Temple until the threat of this new Sith is discovered."

She placed her blue hand delicately on his shoulder. "The Council didn't agree?"

"No, not that I suspected they would." He sighed, to which she replied with a soft, kind smile. Kit hadn't wanted to be placed on the Jedi High Council. He'd felt he would've been better placed on the Reconciliation Council, but it was not to be. A disappointment and an privilege at the same time: the Jedi High Council was the most revered among the Jedi, and to have a place among the circle of Masters was one of the deepest honors known to them. "The galaxy is still in need of our protection," he admitted, "but how can we protect them if we're all dead?"

An unconscious shiver snaked its way up Aayla's spine. "You think Kenobi is that dangerous?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, and after a short pause, declared, "The Council was talking about sending you out."

She nodded noncommittally. She was a Jedi after all, and she would do what the Council asked of her. It was her duty, but she would be lying if she said it wasn't her one wish to protect the Republic. "Where?"

"It hasn't been decided as of yet." Suddenly, his comlink beeped, and he started at the sound. "I have to take this."

"Understandable," she replied as he walked out of the map room hurriedly, already engaged in conversation with whomever occupied the other end of the transmission.

She became aware again of the glowing stars still revolving around the room.

How insignificant they all were, compared to the size of the galaxy and the universe… What lay beyond the Outer Rim, in the uncharted regions? In another galaxy, perhaps far, far away, was there a Sith taking over as well? Were they already engaged in war, innocents and soldiers dying together on bloody fields? Was that what would become of her own beloved galaxy?

These questions continued to haunt her as she powered down the map-reader and strode out into the darkening hallways of the Jedi Temple, the glowlamps dim to provide the inhabitants with the sense of serenity and calm that now eluded young Aayla.

"And how is Kit tonight?" Lost in her thoughts – or perhaps unable to feel the presence because of extraordinary mental shielding – she hadn't noticed her former Master, Quinlan Vos, arrive at her side, matching his pace with hers.

His body looked tired, yet his dark brown eyes sparkled mischieviously. She hadn't seen him for quite some time. He had been gone, setting up an intricate spying network on the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Since the Separatists had disbanded, it only made sense that he should return home.

"Welcome back."

"Thank you," he acknowledged with a nod of his head, his long black hair shaking from the movement. "But you haven't answered my question, Aayla. How is Kit?"

She glanced suspiciously at him. Why didn't he just ask Kit himself? "Fine."

"Oh, I'm sure," he responded dryly, the trace of a smile on his lips.

I know that tone. "What are you implying?" Former Master of not, Quinlan Vos could be so irritating sometimes…

"Me? Implying something? Never in a millennia."

With that, he quickened his pace, leaving a very confused and slightly suspicious Aayla Secura in his wake.

"Two millenniums maybe…"

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The Other Author's Notes: Wow. Not a whole lot happened...which means I have very little to say. I will say, however, that I loved writing Quinlan, for however brief a time he appeared. What'd you think about this chapter? Don't be afraid to review!