Part 2

Anakin Skywalker loved to fly, maybe more than anything else. It was liberating to watch entire worlds, millions of beings, countless problems turn to one speck among the stars. Flying made him feel powerful, too. Ships weren't complicated (well, not to him). Punch in your coordinates and grab the yoke and let go of anything else.

But space itself was boring. And cold. Especially when he wasn't the pilot.

Master Qui-Gon never seemed bored. Once, the man engaged in a three hour conversation about hevvu trees with an overly enthusiastic botanist while mediating talks at a climate conference. Anakin had wanted to stuff his ears with hevvu leaves and sleep under the conference table.

Currently, Qui-Gon was reading. Anakin thought that was pretty boring too. At least the things Qui-Gon read.

They were on a half empty civilian flight to Ivus Minor, a tiny forest world. Anakin had learned about it in a class once. A totally unremarkable planet.

We never go anywhere interesting. Like Naboo.

He glanced at Qui-Gon. "The Council really never said why we're going here?"

"No, Padawan," The older Jedi replied, eyes still fastened to the data pad in his hand, "I wouldn't be surprised if we are meant to help with some sort of restoration project. The Ivus Temple has become a bit neglected in the last few centuries."

Anakin slumped back. His knees hit the seat in front of him and he cursed.

Now Qui-Gon put aside the reader and fixed him with a look somewhere between rebuke and amusement. "Language, my apprentice."

"Sorry, Master." Anakin automatically replied. He pulled at a loose string on his robe sleeve. "Do you think this'll be a long mission?"

"It will be as long as it needs to be, I assume. Why?"

Anakin shrugged. "It just…seems like there are more important things to do."

Qui-Gon snorted. "Oh really? Have we not established that we don't even have our mission details yet?"

"Yeah, but it's Ivus Minor. I'm guessing we won't be saving lives."

The Master smiled. He was the rare kind of Jedi who didn't get annoyed when Anakin asked these questions. "And what should we be doing instead?"

Anakin stared down at his boots. "I don't know..freeing slaves?"

When he looked up at Qui-Gon again, the smile had disappeared from the lined face. "Anakin, you know I want to..."

"I know, I know, it's complicated." After all, the Jedi Council never permitted Qui-Gon to free Anakin seven years ago. It was a gamble that paid off once.

But his Master seemed reluctant to throw the dice again, for Anakin's mother. He could feel the honest waves of apology emanating from his Master. They were both hostage to the Jedi Council, constantly being reminded that Anakin's training, his very presence, was not a given. He was still only the Chosen One in Qui-Gon's eyes, no matter how many duels he won or Temple records he shattered.

"It's not your fault, Master." Anakin murmured. He stared ahead. A little humanoid girl with purple skin in the next row was struggling to open a piece of muja fruit. Without thinking he learned forward to help, but another pair of larger, purple hands deftly peeled the muja before he could get there. Then the same hand reached over to caress the girl's hair.

Anakin looked away.

Master and apprentice walked in comfortable silence through the thick throng of forest. Branches snapped under their boots. Unnamed creatures rustled as the Jedi passed by secret perches.

Twilight would come soon. Qui-Gon hoped to reach their assignment coordinates before then. He was concealing nothing about this mission from Anakin—he was given the vaguest of instructions from the Council. He did not press them on the matter. After all these years, Qui-Gon had finally learned to pick his battles.

The same could not be said for Anakin. The boy was incredibly gifted, a blaze of electric brilliance in the Force, but that intensity was difficult to reign in. He never worried about Anakin's skills or performance.

He worried about his heart.

"We should be there before too long." Qui-Gon said, if only to break up the silence.

"Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon could usually sense his apprentice's approach in the Force. Anakin was thirteen now, and excelling at an astonishing rate, but he never bothered raising his impressive mental shields around his Master. Of course, sometimes that meant Qui-Gon was walloped by thundering teenage emotions, blasting at full power.

He had just taken his first sip of afternoon tea when a wave of incoming fury and frustration struck him. Leaning back and setting aside the hot cup, the Jedi Master wondered if perhaps he was getting a little old for the rigors of teaching. This Padawan especially was a maelstrom of absolutes, intense highs and lows, and not a day went by when Anakin Skywalker did not test limits. Qui-Gon thought it must be part of the burden of the boy's Force gifts, that he could not do –or feel- anything average.

Qui-Gon himself had not been an easy pupil. Before Yan Dooku left the Order, he would often remind Qui-Gon of that fact. His youthful connection to the Living Force was so acute, his very senses would burn from it. The Count spent much of Qui-Gon's tutelage trying to tidy the winding pathways of his apprentice's mind, to no avail.

For not all spirits could be tamed. And Qui-Gon would not stifle Anakin, no matter what the Council wanted. He knew that a person who denied their feelings could,in the end, be consumed by them.

Or rendered emotionless.

The door slid open to admit a fuming Anakin. He stomped through the apartment and plopped into a chair beside Qui-Gon. With a quick Force suggestion the boy floated over a juice bulb and chugged it. He then dropped his chin into balled fists and blew out a breath.

Qui-Gon took that as his cue. "You seem unsettled, Padawan. Did something happen in your classes?"

The boy hesitated, but only for a moment.. "Jaxx Metyor is the biggest sleemo in the whole Temple!" He declared with passionate conviction. "Next time I see him I wish I could wipe that snotty smile off his dumb face and-"

"Calm yourself. Find your center," Qui-Gon intoned, balancing rebuke with gentle guidance, pressing his palm to Anakin's arm. "Now, what is the situation with Jaxx Metyor?"

Anakin was still fuming. "I don't want to talk about it, Master."

"Oh, is that why you came barging in here, broadcasting your displeasure for the entire Temple to hear? You could've fooled me," He chuckled. "Tell me what happened."

The Padawan fiddled with the tail of his braid, brushing the blonde hairs between his fingers. "Well he was being a nosy jerk, like he always is. Someone told him about how I used to pod race, and he didn't believe it, even though I'm TONS better than everyone in all our flight simulations. He starts asking me all these dumb questions about where I'm from." The hooded blue eyes rose to meet Qui-Gon's, "And then he tells me Jedi aren't supposed to be 'from' anywhere."

Ah. Qui-Gon pulled the braid out of Anakin's toying grip, smoothing it down and straightening one of the colored beads. "Most Jedi cannot remember life before being brought to the Temple. But there are distinct advantages to your upbringing, Anakin."

Anakin lifted a tentatively curious brow. "Like what? I have to do like three times the homework just to catch up."

Qui-Gon snorted. "From what your instructors tell me, that is no hardship for you. You sail through your courses." Which was probably one of the reasons the other Padawan was picking on Anakin to begin with. "Being raised outside the Temple, your view of the Universe is far more expansive than that of Jaxx Meytor's. It's given you a deeper sense of empathy for others."

The corner of the boy's lips twitched a little. "AND I was a better pilot than him when I was seven."

Qui-Gon laughed. "I don't doubt it. But you needn't be boastful. Let your skills and your actions speak for you." He knew it had been a mistake to discuss the prophecy of the Chosen One in front of Anakin. His apprentice tended to deal with insecurity by growing defensive, brash, and even arrogant. It was a constant balancing act for Qui-Gon as his teacher, to commend Anakin's accomplishments and nurture his ever-flourishing talents without inflating his head.

"Yes, Master," Anakin said absentmindedly. He still looked irritated as he traced shapes onto the tabletop. "…Master?"

"Yes?"

"Jaxx said some other stuff…about you."

Qui-Gon crossed his arms. "Did he?" He had never met Meytor before, but he was used to his unconventional reputation preceding him. So were his Padawans. "What 'stuff' did he say?"

"Like I said, he's a real skug. No one likes him."

"You don't need to cushion the blow, Anakin, I think I can take it."

"Well I was just getting really annoyed with him, and I said he should shut up because I'm a Padawan just like everyone else.." Anakin paused, looking as if it was taking every last bit of his willpower not to twist and squirm, "and he said even if you're training me I'm not really a Padawan, cuz you're not really a Master."

Qui-Gon blinked. "That comes as news to me. I can assure you, my apprentice, I've been a Jedi Master far longer than either you or Jaxx Meytor have been alive."

"Yeah, but…" Anakin chewed on his bottom lip, "He said that you can't be a real Master if your Padawans never get Knighted."

An ambush, cutting deeper because he wasn't expecting it. He did not discuss certain parts of his past with anyone, not even Anakin. Qui-Gon certainly never expected to hear his failures and private pain used as a way to taunt his current apprentice. A hot wave of shame washed over him.

Anakin was looking at him with open worry. Qui-Gon squeezed his shoulder. "I promise you, none of that is true. You are on the path to Knighthood. I know that you will be an exceptional Jedi."

I know it. You will surpass us all.

The tension visibly drained from the slender body. Anakin released a pent up breath and smiled. "I knew Jaxx was full of it."

"Who is his Master?"

"Um, I think his name is Master Muln."

His heart quickened. Garen Muln.

"And Master Muln isn't even really a Master yet either, cuz Jaxx is his first Padawan."

First Padawan. Could it be? Garen Muln was old enough for an apprentice of his own? But that would mean…

Another surprise attack, the first pang nearly unbearable. He trapped his thoughts behind walls of durasteel and cleared his throat. "Master Muln is to be regarded with the same respect as you would extend any Master, Anakin. And I might speak with him about the…opinions his apprentice is spreading."

Anakin rocketed upright. "Don't do that, Qui-Gon!"

The older Jedi pursed his lips in silent disapproval.

"…Sorry, Master, I just don't want him calling me a tattler on top of everything else."

"Hopefully Jaxx will mature with time and proper training. But you must also learn that YOU are in control of how words, even harsh ones, affect you." Qui-Gon's voice softened, "A true Jedi is steady at the core, because a true Jedi's core is the Force. Find that peace and strength within yourself and his words will lose their power."

Anakin was still learning to conceal his base reactions; Qui-Gon could tell he was not fully satisfied with their talk. The boy craved deep interactions and plain language. Rigid rights and wrongs. No doubt he yearned for Qui-Gon to condemn Jaxx Meytor.

But Qui-Gon, over sixty now, was still learning, too. The Universe was rarely black and white. It was a hard lesson. Perhaps even more so for a former slave from Tatooine.

"Master?"

Qui-Gon realized he had been staring blindly, absorbed in his thoughts. "Yes, Padawan?"

"I've been thinking…I know I'm not supposed to think about this and I really shouldn't bring it up but-"

The older Jedi held up a hand. "Your thoughts are your own, Anakin. I may offer guidance but your mind is not mine to police."

Anakin nodded, appearing to mull over Qui-Gon's words before continuing." "Okay. Well…why didn't he want to be a Knight?"

Qui-Gon felt the old ache in his chest. "I don't know."

"Yeah, I can't figure it out either. Being a Knight seems like the coolest thing ever." Anakin stood up and downed another juice bulb. He swiped his arm across his mouth. "You don't have to worry about me, Master. Like you said, I can handle Jaxx." A carefree grin brightened Anakin's face. "And I can't WAIT to be a Knight."

"I'm glad to hear it," Qui-Gon said lightly, "so take a small step toward that lofty goal by working on your assignments."

"Yes, Master. Thanks, Master."

He smiled. "Of course, my apprentice."

Qui-Gon watched the boy walk to his private quarters with a lack of enthusiasm.

Then he reached for his forgotten tea. He took a drink and found that it was cold.

When they at last reached the mission coordinates, Anakin was confused. He shaded his eyes against the midday sun and squinted intently. In the midst of dense forest stood a large, aged temple. Hundreds of crumbling steps led to an ornate set of carved doors.

He started up the stairs, but a hand on his shoulder drew him back. A step crushed under his boot.

Qui-Gon's eyes were on the temple as he addressed his Padawan, "Wait."

Anakin had the nagging feeling he was missing something. It was silent, save the random, sharp calls of distant birds. No one was emerging from the doors to greet them.

"Are you sure we're in the right place, Master?"

"Yes."

Anakin had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. For being the Chosen One, the Force always seemed to leave him out of the loop. "Then why are we the only ones here?"

"Patience, Padawan." The older Jedi said, then slowly sunk into a meditative pose on the ground.

Anakin reluctantly joined him. Meditation made something inside him itch. He didn't like being alone with his thoughts on that deepest level. He knew it disappointed Qui-Gon. If the man knew what it was like for Anakin…

But there were things they just didn't share with each other.

He closed his eyes and rested his palms on his knees. He gathered the Force around him, soaked in the surrounding energy of the forest and the reliable stillness of his Master, moving beyond the Present, letting the deluge pull him along.

Qui-Gon, no doubt, found tranquility in the exercise. Anakin only felt adrift.

"It must end. Whatever it takes."

The voice echoed through his mind. The Force churned with a terrible dread. Anakin was pinned, couldn't dodge the clawing hands or the searing light, the nauseous burning exploding in his skull.

"It must end."

A scream rang through the trees. His eyes flew open and he realized his throat was raw and he was covered in sweat.

Qui-Gon was looking at him with obvious concern.

Master Yoda waited at the base of the grand, ruined steps of the Ivus Temple.

"Right on time, you are," The tiny Senior Master garbled. He leaned on his gimer stick and fixed heavy green eyes on the two Jedi. "Too late, you are."

Qui-Gon helped Anakin to his feet. Aftershocks of the boy's ill-fated meditation jerked and convulsed in the Force. He felt sick; Anakin seemed no better. Together they staggered towards Yoda and bowed.

"Too late for what?" Anakin lifted his head and managed to speak, though he sounded strained.

"Hmm…" Yoda studied them. Wisps of white hair stirred from a slight breeze. His expression was, as usual, unreadable. "For many things, too late are you, I think."

Qui-Gon went down on one knee, silently entreating Anakin to do the same. Master Yoda rarely left Coruscant. To find him at the base of the Ivus Temple only increased the mystery and unease surrounding their mission. "As always, we submit to your wisdom, my Master."

Yoda nodded slowly. "Wisdom, perhaps, you shall find, if open to it you are. In this Jedi Temple, answers lie." He tapped the gimer stick on a step; more chunks of grey stone fell away. "Wisdom and answers, you will find, at the end of once-broken paths. But mended, the paths must be, before traveled."

Qui-Gon glanced at Anakin. His apprentice was gaping at the winding, shattered stairs before them.

"But…"

"Much is there to see, young Skywalker, on this sacred ground." The stooped little Jedi lifted the cowl around his head. Shadow nearly eclipsed the sleepy features. "But begin, you must, with the first step."

Riddles.

Anakin was tired of them. He never thought being a Jedi meant having to twist his brain around so many mental puzzles. There wasn't a Master alive who could just offer simple explanations or advice.

That was why he was drawn to people like Chancellor Palpatine, who could talk to him in a straight line. No wonder Qui-Gon didn't care for the Chancellor. Anakin's Master presented every lesson as a knot to be unraveled.

Anakin didn't think things always needed to be so…complicated. The stairs, for example, were obviously destroyed. Why not clear them away and build more?

He said as much to Qui-Gon, who was crouched in front of the collapsing display.

The older Jedi looked up at him with contemplative eyes. "When you were twelve and broke your leg on the mission to Aleen, do you suppose I should've abandoned you and requested a new apprentice?"

More double-speak, he grumbled to himself. Anakin could see Yoda watching their exchange, sitting on a stump close by. No doubt waiting for Anakin to give the wrong answer. He was on the Council, after all.

"Of course not, but these are stairs. Some things are replaceable and some things aren't."

He felt a random resurgence of nausea; even his ear lobes tingled with false fever. Remnants of his previous vision whispered to him. "It must end."

It must end. Hopefully it was just the Force, assuring him that this mission wouldn't last forever. Even if Yoda wanted them to restore hundreds of disintegrating steps-without any tools.

"Perhaps we should stop to consider why these stairs might be worth saving." Qui-Gon suggested.

Anakin peered at him suspiciously. "You're in on this, aren't you, Master?"

An amused, tired chuckle. "Unfortunately for me, I am not."

Anakin slumped. He gazed up at the trees towering around them, avoiding Master Yoda's scrutiny. Yes, he was positive there were more important things they could be doing.

He reached down and picked up a stone.