The room filled quickly and quietly. Qui-Gon watched the hooded figures fill the room. Calm and serene, the Jedi acknowledged the pyre and then Qui-Gon. Then there was Bant, her heart in pieces and radiating grief, comforted by Garen. He could feel Garen trying to soothe her through the force, but whether or not it was working Qui-Gon could not discern. Bant was followed closely by Sil A'nis. "Oh force, Sil." he thought. Her face was hidden by her cloak, but he didn't need to see her face to know there were dark circles under her tear filled eyes. He knew she had not slept or eaten. She was shielding herself, but he knew her too well. Her guilt spoke straight to his heart. It had been while sparring with Sil that the ticking time bomb that had been his young apprentice's heart had failed him. There had been no way for her to know, but still she felt responsible. Would he have the strength to tell her later about Obi-Wan's crush on her? The Padawan had idolized her and adored her even though she was a year older than Qui-Gon. It was just a boyhood infatuation, but Sil would probably like to know. Maybe he would even share the secret of his own affections for her. Obi-Wan's friends needed him and needed his comfort, but he just wasn't sure he could offer it. He couldn't even comfort himself.
The Jedi funeral ritual was done without words. Silently, feeling as though he was moving through water, Qui-Gon moved toward the pyre a torch already in his hand. He took a long look at his padawan.
"I'm sorry, my Obi-Wan, for what might have been, if only I had not been so foolish. I'm thankful, my young one, for all that you gave me. Farewell Padawan, Son." Once the torch hit the pyre, it was quickly engulfed with flame as if the Force were as impatient to claim the boy's body as it had been to claim his soul. He stepped back and let the heat of the fire wash over him. By the grace of the Force he would get through this.
An infinity or two later it was over and Qui-Gon was alone.
He spent many hours going through the motions of "getting on with his life". He prepared his notes of his mission to Varrus for the Senate and reviewed the research material regarding his next mission, his and Obi-Wan's mission. He still intended to go. He would need to work. His thoughts flew back to a conversation he had overheard many years before. A pilot's brother had been killed in combat and his commander had simply laid his hand on the young man's shoulder and said "We will keep you flying, You cannot feel when you work. Work will save you." Would work save him? He didn't know or even care. He would work because that was what he knew.
When there was no more work to be done on this endless day, he set down his data pad, lifted himself wearily to his feet and headed to his room. Only partially surprised, he found himself standing outside of Obi-Wan's room instead. He knew it was the Force guiding him, for it was not by his own free will that he reached out to touch the opaque energy shield that covered the entrance to the room. It disappeared with a faint sizzle. Stark and spare, the room was not unlike most other padawan rooms at the temple. There were very few items in the room that would betray an owner and even then one would need to know Obi-Wan to see the clues. First there was the unrolled vazuton and tangled blankets. While Qui-Gon would roll his mattress and fold his blankets before he did anything else, Obi-Wan seemed to have an aversion to organizing his sleeping area. "I'm just going to mess it up again tonight. It wants to be that way. Who am I to fight the will of the Force" the boy had once told his master. He had been so intrigued and baffled by the answer he had never bothered him about it again. There were broken bits of a lightsaber neatly placed on the corner of the desk. It had been the first one Obi-Wan had made, long before he was old enough or capable enough to do so. It had blown apart when he had activated it. Yoda had instructed the eight- year-old boy to keep the pieces, as well as the scar on the inside of his right elbow, as a lesson in humility. He had followed Yoda's advice and Qui-Gon would often find his padawan meditating over the bits of saber, especially after a very successful day. He wondered how he could ever have believed pride would be a problem?
Qui-Gon depressed a couple of buttons on the desk's console and the room instantly filled with a deranged jangle of percussion and discordant stringed instruments. This was Obi-Wan's meditation music. The Master had never been able to understand what his apprentice heard in the Maltarquien story songs.
If there was any melody or harmony, it remained quite elusive to Qui-Gon. When he realized how much more productive Obi-Wan's meditations were with the music he just learned to busy himself elsewhere when his apprentice meditated. Now though, he would not go away. He would listen and try to understand, try to hear it through the boy's ears. He sat on the vazuton crossed his legs and closed his eyes. After long moments passed something began to tug at his senses, but he couldn't seem to grab a hold of it. Then suddenly it was there, the melody, the complex harmonies and he found himself feeling the Force in an unaccustomed way. This was how Obi-Wan had felt the force. He was sure of it. It was not the easy comfortable Living Force that was Qui-Gon's constant companion. His Padawan had once told him that it was very difficult to focus on the force. Qui-gon had admonished his student for lack of concentration. Now, though, he understood. The Force buzzed around him like a beautiful insect, inviting him to touch, to hold, but remaining just out of reach. It was frustrating for the Master, but when he finally grasped it he was astonished by its power. He spent a long time exploring this new perspective, everything familiar, but fresh.
When he felt satisfied, he slowly dragged himself back to full consciousness. Leaning back on his hands with a sigh, his hand brushed against something hard under the pile of blankets. He pushed them aside and found a box. It was a plain wood box with simple metal hinges. His first instinct was to put away the box, but his curiosity won out over his desire to honor Obi-Wan's privacy. He opened the lid slowly, revealing a large pile of thick papers. Qui-Gon let the papers spill out onto his lap and was amazed by his discovery. They were drawings, Obi-Wan's drawings. He had no knowledge of his padawan having such a talent, but the Force signature that permeated every pencil stroke were unmistakable. They were Obi-Wan's work and had obviously meant a great deal to him. The first drawings were crude, but not without some degree of artistry. They were mostly pictures of space cruisers, fighters, and lightsabers, the stuff of boyhood fantasies. Many more after that were of plants and water, from the temple gardens. While these pictures seem peaceful, there is something in the boldness and jaggedness of the lines that spoke of something different. The boy was in turmoil and hoped that the natural world would soothe him as it did for his Master. These pictures were beautiful and Obi-Wan's skill had increased. Each petal and stem humble and perfect.
The boy had been drawing his whole life and his master knew nothing of it. Qui-Gon felt overwhelmed with shame, it made his face feel hot and his heart beat quickly and frantically like the music that filled his head. When he turned to the next picture, his heart stopped beating altogether. It was a picture of him, but not him in battle or as the ever serious-teacher. It was not the him as he feared Obi-Wan had seen him. The picture was of Qui-Gon and Sil A'Nis in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Their heads leaning close together as if sharing some lovers secret, and in the picture his eyes show the love that he had always kept hidden in his heart. His face alight with the tranquillity he always felt whenever he was with her. How had his padawan known? How had Obi-Wan, so young and so smitten with Sil, recognized the depth of Qui-Gon's love for her, without even a hint of jealosy. This was not a scene that had played out in reality. This was how Obi-Wan had seen his master. The boy had accepted his master and perhaps even knew him better than anyone else. It was too much. The walls crumbled. Now there was no defense from the pain. He clutched the pictures to his chest and let the pain take him. "Padawan, I gave away the gift the force gave me. I gave away the gift that was you, my son."