Stakeouts were Qui-Gon Jinn's least favorite ways to pass time - no, maybe it was just waiting in general. Patience, though an attribute of his, was only applicable if he were at peace, quiet in mind and at ease in the Force, which he oft times was. If only, he thought ruefully, one of those times were upon me. The Master had been working at it through the shallow darkness of early morning, chewing at the guilt and vengeant feelings, the disappointment and regret that lingered from the night. At the pale arrival of dawn, unfortunately, things still did not look any better.

Stroking his increasingly graying beard with a deep sigh, Qui-Gon shifted sore feet, resting on his ankles instead in the shadows of century old buildings deep in the Underlevels. The pasty darkness of night was fading, though darkness was nearly a constant in the lower levels, shadows casting thin silhouettes upon the parked speeders and occasional pedestrian strolling by. Neon lights advertising taverns, nightclubs and other crude attractions lit up the air, thick with early moisture and perfumed with smoke. It hung about them in a fog, a smog really, and gave the place even more obscurity, but Qui-Gon didn't complain. It was what they needed.

The Master, with a breath of refocus, continued his vigil outside of the spotting place, the apartment complex. It was a dingy looking, half-rotting shed of a building compared to the structures in the Upper Levels called the Hotel Vortex, a hotel famous for its frequent crime scenes and criminal sightings, a hideout in plain sight for the suspicious or simply untrustworthy. So far, it had been quiet. Or, as Obi-Wan would say with a concerned bit of a frown, too quiet.

Qui-Gon felt the anxiety in him itch at his senses, and he was never usually this tense, but knew that was due to an ever patient and currently nervous Master Adi Gallia and her ever restless apprentice, Siri Tachi. The two women shared the same expression, Adi's blue eyes shadowed by her headdress wary and assertive, stance relaxed by uneasy, and Siri's younger but equally hued gaze an inconstant stillness. Her form, which was dressed not in Jedi robe but a suit with deep violet painted shin, forearm and chest armor, a belt equipped with two blasters and a fully functional vibroblade that hung from her hip and grazed the ground, was tensed in stature as she bounced a bit on her heels, youthful vigor edging her to action. Qui-Gon felt the same way.

The Council had been quick to decide the Jedi's next step of action in the nearly failed mission, Master Yoda speaking to Qui-Gon and Adi just hours prior and assigning them collaborate and hopefully repair the damage done, if at all possible. Their task was to simply find the kidnapper and rescue the Senator, which would not be too difficult if their next step would go as smoothly as planned. As they had already heard, the assassin was still on Coruscant, mulling around in the Underlevels merely hours after his crime. The Council had figured the assassin was either a rookie, inexperienced or simply unwise, for they did not understand why he lingered not only on the planet of his crime but not even three blocks away from it. The Rodian had been spotted - multiple times - strolling around the Hotel Vortex that morning, looking nothing but suspicious.

Though the Jedi were wary of this odd occurrence, they were not going to miss out on their second and possibly final chance of accomplishing the mission. Both the Masters knew how rarely missions were salvaged, from experience and from common logic, and even though the odds seemed to be in their favour, they both knew their task would be far from easy. So to avoid any margin for error, Master Gallia and Master Jinn, on their swift speeder ride to their location, had devised a plan.

Adi had been the one to suggest that they send someone in to lure the assassin undercover, and they had decided that was what they do, one of them acting as a distraction and gaining information of the Senator's location, and the other to retrieve the senator from his captivity once such was realized.

Of course, Qui-Gon had been the first to volunteer as the disguised. The chances of recognition were eminent, so instead, with much reluctance on Adi's part, they chose another, whisking back to the Temple and whipping up a disguise for her. Siri, of course, had jumped at the chance to go in somewhere undercover, and had helped add to their strategy. The Hotel Vortex was still under lockdown, but disguised as a vagrant Underworlder Siri had figured she could get away with breaking in if possible. After she had contacted the assassin to meet her inside the hotel lobby, the team knew they only had to wait.

Only have to wait, Qui-Gon fumed, trying not to remember the hours wasted, for lack of a better word, waiting so far. His mind dwelled on his ill Padawan, lying alone in the Temple, probably still feeling guilty and definitely frustrated by not being able to be with Qui-Gon. The Master tried to ignore the fact that he could have gone to the Jedi Temple and back twenty times to retrieve Obi-Wan, but it kept resurfacing. When had time waiting ever been time well spent?

Qui-Gon sighed, refusing to be annoyed. He turned his attention back to Siri, who was siting information on the assassin Madame Nu had salvaged for them in the Archive Library, from her datapad. Her usual fall of golden hair was pulled back and covered by a dark visored helmet, which sat just a bit too big on her, and it wobbled on occasion as she spoke, ". . . and a potential dataprogrammer, meaning he's good with numbers. He was not born on Rodia, but is said to be currently part of a small cult on a moon called Regime-7 in the Outer Rim. No childhood history that I can see. No listed accomplices, no former training, no criminal record . . . nothing. Is there a skip in the data do you think, Master? This doesn't seem right to me."

"It could be possible." Adi watched the building ahead of them, beyond the rusted durasteel garbage bin they hid behind, with precise intent, though her focus was on two places at once, "Clarify your question for me, Padawan. Does it seem wrong, or does it feel wrong?"

"I'm not sure, Master. It is a combination of both. The information could be lacking due to the assassins low profile. The Archives are rarely ever incomplete, but to have this much information missing is odd."

"Missing, or erased?" Adi asked her apprentice, and Siri shook her head, "I don't know. I still think it feels wrong."

"I know one thing that feels wrong," Qui-Gon put in, and Adi looked to him, confused. He pointed ahead of them, "Hiding behind this garbage storage - hiding, period."

Adi gave him a look of controlled annoyance, which he expected and acknowledged with a shrug. They all were growing impatient, restless, and tired of the smell, even the sometimes unabashed Master Gallia, though she would refuse to admit it.

"I'll reexamine the harddrive just to be sure . . ." Siri's face was tense as her blue eyes roamed the datascreen, and Qui-Gon turned to her a bit, "If you need help, Obi- " Qui-Gon caught himself before he addressed the air over his shoulder as his apprentice, and sighed. He looked where his Padawan would usually reside, on his heels behind him, young face tense and determined, smiling curiously then as the Master observed him, and Qui-Gon had to look away. The guilt was very heavy.

The still subtle vengeance smoldered in Qui-Gon's stomach, doused and cooled slightly by the discipline of his years upon years of training, but still warm and eager to ignite at the chance. It was a dangerous emotion, one he had struggled often with during his times of being a young Knight, in the vigor of his youth he missed and savoured. Always ready at the chance to bring justice, to oppress the oppressor, to rob from the thief, to slay the slayer.

Gradually, with age as all things seemed to come, Qui-Gon had realized his error: his true passion for vengeance had been more so for revenge. An equal action done to one who did it does not justify anything. At the thought of the Rodian man, of the tyrant who perpetrated the club and was responsible for the kidnapping of Senator Dawn, the injuries of the club members in the mob and the near fatality of his own apprentice, Qui-Gon knew if he saw him again, it would be very difficult to spare him. Very difficult.

"Master Qui-Gon?"

Qui-Gon blinked form his reverie, looking to Siri who eyed him concernedly. She repeated as she readjusted her helmet again, "What were you saying?"

"Right, yes . . . was there a, um, a physical description?"

"Oh . . . I already said it, but I can again." Siri smiled at the Master, "I thought you looked a little distracted at the time."

"More like all the time," Adi put in, and Qui-Gon hit his eyes to her, catching blue with blue. Her face was the expression of serenity, as it often was, a nobility naturally present in her. He admired it, though it often drove him crazy, "I was just contemplating some things."

"About Obi-Wan?"

Qui-Gon didn't deny her, but fell silent, turning back to face the building. No beings roamed past windows, the windows without broken glass or no glass at all, and no sound was heard about them besides the echo of traffic above. Qui-Gon sensed her stare on him, without the Force, and folded his arms as he replied, "Yes. I am beginning to grow impatient, and by the time anything else happens I could have retrieved my own apprentice by now -"

"Yoda only allowed Siri to accompany us, and for reasons you know well of."

"His injuries are not that terrible -"

"He flatlined. Twice."

Adi let the silence convince him, and Qui-Gon couldn't deny it.

"He will not be happy about us completing a mission he failed."

"I don't recall that happening."

"Neither do I."

"Then why don't you tell him? If he feels unnecessary blame, relieve him of it." Adi's tone was serene, as it most often was, though a firmness behind it hinted at her opinion. Qui-Gon had rarely ever been lacking of knowing of her opinion. "His mistakes were no worse than yours, if mistakes at all -"

"Master, can I make a suggestion?"

Bothe Masters looked to the girl, still double checking the information, and Adi gave a nod, one Siri didn't have to break her gaze to see, "If Master Jinn does go back to get Obi-Wan, he won't want to come. Even with the forgiveness he will feel unworthy of finishing things, thinking he'll mess up again or something. I suggest we leave him be. It isn't really your fault, though, Master Jinn. I trust Obi-Wan all the time, even if I know it's stupid. He doesn't admit to anything, even if it's as apparent as a Sith in Temple class, but you'll still believe him anyway."

Adi's silence was one of respect, of contemplation; she frowned slightly, a scrutiny seen in the blue eyes similar to her apprentices. Qui-Gon smiled to himself at Siri's insight, amused by her nonchalance. When she wasn't being chided by her Master to watch her mouth or her manners, she had very intellectual, often witty, opinions she would express, despite possible offences made. Unlike Obi-Wan, she was quick to action and hated delays or anything else that would slow her. Etiquette was only present when needle, likewise assistance, and independence eked though her like a sharp fragrance: all things Qui-Gon's apprentice still lacked.

Siri placed both her slender arms on her hips, and Qui-Gon looked to her again at the gesture of impatience, "You didn't have to come."

"I do not remember the Underworld being so desolate. Isn't anything going to happen?" She asked the question, but Qui-Gon didn't answer, knowing Adi would do that herself.

"This is a stakeout, Padawan. We wait until something happens."

"But after we contacted the assassin, which I did -"

"You did."

"I did - you said he'd come, and he hasn't! How are we to trust a guy like this? If he' not going to show, he must be at least aware we have been waiting. We have places to be. Does he know that?"

Adi waited a moment before trying a reply, "Of cor-"

"Of course he does. And yet, nothing."

Qui-Gon looked to Adi, who rolled her eyes at the impatient young girl.

Much like you, Adi said gently through the Force between them, We should trade apprentices for the day.

I'm not sure Obi-Wan would take that lightly. He'd assume I favoured Siri over him.

Adi couldn't hide a smile, You seem to.

I'd rather have my own. At least he's not so dramatic -

A figure in the dew flew by, just barely a blur in the haze, but as clear and crisp as ice in the Jedi's eyes. He moved with an urgent, nervous gait, one a bit uncoordinated as feet smacked the moist duracrete, but fast nonetheless. Qui-Gon cursed his aging eyes, unable to see anything more but a vague outline of shape, no face or clothing; his heart raced, that vengeance creeping in on him again, but he ignored it then.

No sooner was Siri up on her feet in pursuit as the assassin passed, following the form around the base of the hotel just as swiftly, slipping behind in in the door and disappearing out of sight.

Adi, who had grown even more tense with her apprentice out of her hands, revealed a comlink from her robe, whispering to Qui-Gon, "Now, the waiting truly begins."

"Great." Qui-Gon huffed, "And I was beginning to think this mission would turn out easy."

"Nothing ever is, Qui-Gon."

"Don't remind me."