Chapter 13: Aftershocks

He would be lying to himself if he claimed that the Council had decided in his favor. He had been so confident that they would unanimously agree to train Anakin, because he was the Chosen One spoken of in the ancient prophecy. Every single member on the Council should have sensed at least that much – otherwise how could they reasonably claim to be Jedi Masters? It flabbergasted him that the Council had postponed their decision about Anakin's future in the Jedi Order. In his heart Qui-Gon knew that waiting was wrong; Anakin should begin his training immediately and Qui-Gon was determined that it would happen. He had no qualms about working around the Council's decision and behind their backs, none at all. Particularly, since the Living Force spoke so strongly to him about the boy.

Obi-Wan would object and protest at his rebelliousness but Qui-Gon could ignore him too. Soon enough the young man would learn for himself that the Jedi Council was not the ultimate authority in the universe. When their choices went directly against the will of the Force the as a Jedi he was duty bound to disobey. Never mind the fact that human interpretation of the will of the Force was completely speculative and up for debate. Qui-Gon was adamant in his belief that the Force brought him to Anakin so that the boy could become a Jedi and bring balance to the Force.

The fact that the Living Force had revealed his daughter to him in the process was only further proof that his assumptions were correct. Rediscovering Lyyr has as much as an impact on his life as discovering the Chosen One. Qui-Gon had never forgotten his daughter and had held out hope that she might still be alive but he resigned himself to the fact that he would probably never know what had happened to her.

Veira's sudden death had rattled him, more than he cared to admit. Although he had not flirted with the Dark Side after her death like he did after the death of Tahl; he had still been wounded by it. He grieved for Veira and their lost child but Thal's death had taught him how to love without possession. Qui-Gon was able to grieve for them without that grief becoming a dangerous indulgence. Besides even in his very hour of grief the Living Force had given him a reason to hope; a vision of a young Jedi Knight with Veira's eyes and a spirit that reflected both of her parents but was all her own. How could Qui-Gon give up hope that his child still lived with that vision to sustain him?

But now he was presented with a daughter who was grown – nearly an adult in her own right and certainly use to acting as one. Qui-Gon needed to adjust his thinking and did not know how to. Truthfully he had not a clue as to how to approach Lyyr; he had missed so much of her life and had to reacquaint himself with her and the idea that he was a father. One thing was certain he knew nothing of her and what she had endured. It was that fact that lead him to seek out someone who had a better idea of what she'd been through.

Qui-Gon found Mace in the meditation gardens. In grotto covered with foliage from his home world. It did not surprise him to find the other man there, it made sense that Mace would seek out the solitude of the gardens. After all Veira had been his padawan learner and Mace would understand better than most the eerie similarities between mother and daughter.

"I wondered how long you would wait," Mace announced without preamble. He did not bother to turn around and look at Qui-Gon but continued to stare into the pool of water. "Truthfully I had hoped you would put this off until after the situation on Naboo had been settled."

"Then it would be too late," Qui-Gon responded not bothering to elaborate. He had the foreboding feeling that time was slipping away and he wanted to repair his relationship with Lyyr as quickly as possible.

At that Mace turned to look at him but only raised one questioning eyebrow. To which Qui-Gon shrugged in response. Silence fell between them then each man occupied with his own thoughts. Qui-Gon was the first to break the silence and the question he asked was one he did not originally intend.

"Why did the Council deny Anakin?" He blurted out, his words betraying his feelings on the matter. That was not the question he had intended to ask and instinctively Qui-Gon understood that he was focusing on Anakin in an effort to mask his concern for Lyyr.

"There is too much fear in him," Mace answered the question honestly enough. Qui-Gon wondered if he had expected that particular question. His initial reaction was to protest Mace's claim and was opening his mouth to do so when he was smoothly cut off by an unanticipated source.

"Full of fear the boy is," Master Yoda remarked cutting off any protest Qui-Gon might make before he could even give voice to it. Startled Qui-Gon turned around to find Yoda standing behind him and Mace, his hoverchair cast off to the side.

"Possessive fear, it is," Yoda continued. "Fear is the path to the Dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering." He concluded definitively, driving the end of his cane into the ground for emphasis.

"Surely the boy is in no danger of that," Qui-Gon scoffed, feeling the need to defend Anakin and his own belief that the boy is the Chosen One. "He was raised in an atmosphere of fear, it will wear off now."

"Anakin fears losing those close to him," Mace pointed out with cold logic. "He is greatly attached to his mother and Lyyr; these relationships will impede his ability to follow the will of the Force."

"Exceptions have been made before," Qui-Gon countered, "and I don't see Master's Mundi's various attachments impeding his ability to listen to the will of the Force."

"Aware of these dispensations, we are," Yoda retorted. "Without such allowances, exist your daughter would not."

Qui-Gon bowed his head for a moment feeling properly chastised.

"Is she as attached to Anakin as you believe he is too her?"

"She obviously feels affection towards the boy, they were raised as siblings," Mace answered, "she has already learned how to control her feelings." That statement caught Qui-Gon's attention unlike anything else Mace had said yet.

"What did she endure?" He asked and they told him; although he heard and sensed their sympathy in their voices, neither Mace nor Yoda spared him any details. As they recited all that Lyyr had told the Council Qui-Gon's heart bleed for her. He thought he had seen the depths of depravity the galaxy had to offer, apparently he had been mistaken and if he had had any clue what Lyyr was suffering he would have put an end to it years ago.

"More there is," Yoda finally concluded, "told everything to us she has not."

"I sensed that as well," Mace agreed. "There is a mistrust of human and humanoid males that she tries to hide and shouts of more than just physical or emotional abuse."

Qui-Gon had suspected as much back on Tatooine. Her early belligerence towards him had more to do with his gender and less to do with the fact that he was a Jedi. Moreover, it did not take a Jedi mind trick to see her uneasiness and determine its cause; particularly when Lyyr made an effort to be so impertinent at the risk of her own life.

"Now is not the time for this," Mace announced squaring his shoulders. "You must return with the Queen to Naboo and discover the identity of the dark warrior you described. That is the clue we need to unraveling the mystery of the Sith."

To just say that Lyyr was angry would be lying – she was mad at the world right now, heck the whole galaxy. But mostly she was furious with herself for how she handled her interview with the Jedi Council and, above all, for being so blasted angry. Her time since that fiasco of an interview was taken up with an emotional merry-go-round. She had not accomplished a damned thing. She found that so distasteful about anger; it was an exercise in pure selfishness that wasted her time and energy in petty self-indulgence. Lyyr knew that there were only two ways to handle her anger- channel it into some useful employment or find a way to allow it to run its course.

She shoved herself away from the balcony railing. Watching traffic and brooding about her rage was doing nothing to calm her down; it was only revving her up more. She knew now that her only recourse was physical exertion. Lyyr doubted that they would allow her to pick a fight with someone so she settled for just walking. She set herself a brisk pace taking off in the first direction that presented itself. It occurred to her that she probably shouldn't wander through the temple that they might view her meandering as trespassing but she brushed the thought aside. She had become restless in her fury and needed to do something. It had been easier on Tatooine to rid herself of such restlessness – as much as she disliked admitting it – Lyyr only had to show up at the arenas and present herself to the fight master. She could then have the poisonous emotion pounded out of her very flesh. Lyyr doubted that she would find that kind of distraction among the Jedi.

Lyyr did not bother to smoother her feelings knowing that the Jedi would sense them. If they wanted to judge her and think poorly of her for a natural human emotion than that was their problem. She thought that any judgments made by them would only reflect poorly upon the Jedi. Lyyr was aware of the dangers of excessive anger; she had often witnessed the dangers of all emotions as a slave. But she also recognized the saving grace one found in feeling such things as hope and love; for without either of those she would not have survived. Lyyr knew this to be true, even though she couldn't properly explain it.

She had long since lost track of where she was going and only had unclear impressions of her surroundings. Gradually she became aware of a vague sense of opulence that warred with the Spartan lifestyle she believed the Jedi preached. For a group that disdained possessions they appeared to have an awful surplus. This apparent hypocrisy only irritated her further. Her rage had been a long time building with no outlet and now she needed to find one quickly. Lyyr increased her pace, moving further into the bowels of the Jedi Temple. Her focus turning inward and she was no longer aware of what went on around her.

Therefore, she was completely taken off guard when out of nowhere a hand came down on her injured shoulder in a crushing grip. Transforming the dull throbbing, that she had been ignoring, into a stabbing agony. Lyyr bit her lip to keep from screaming and swearing then reacting instinctively she reached up to pry the offending appendage off of her. She found the pressure point between thumb and forefinger common among all humanoid species and dug her finger nails in; applying all the pressure her work hardened hands could muster. She was rewarded for her efforts with a half stifled grunt of pain.

Her attacker tried to withdraw his hand but Lyyr kept a hold of it. She was pulled around by the mysterious shoulder grabber's attempts to reclaim his hand. Lyyr wasn't really that surprised to discover that the hand belonged to Obi-Wan.

"Force's sake Lyyr! What are you doing?" He demanded jerking his hand back trying to break her hold. He didn't have any luck and she watched, fascinated and slightly amused, as he became more flustered.

"I don't like being snuck up on," she answered her tone common place.

"I've been calling your name, you never answered." He told her and she dropped his hand to consider what he said. She was slightly pleased with herself to see blood bead up in a half moon mark on the back of his hand, with any luck it would scar. He glared balefully at her but she ignored him. Lyyr was too busy checking the bandages around her wound to pamper the young man.

"Why did you do that?" He asked sounding surely. She looked at him with narrowed eyes, Lyyr guessed his age to be somewhere in his early twenties and so far she was not impressed by him.

"I don't care for people trying to bully me," she answered returning her attention to her wound. She noticed right away that he had managed to pop open some of Qui-Gon's careful stitching.

"Bully," he began to sputter obviously intent on denying that his actions had been that of a bully but his protests died when he saw the blood on Lyyr's hand as she withdrew it from the neck of her tunic. She looked over in time to catch an expression of alarm flicker across Obi-Wan's face.

"Lyyr I" – he stopped abruptly.

"It's alright Obi-Wan," she reassured him with misleading reasonableness. Even shrugging her shoulder's dismissively which only exacerbated the pain. "After all it's not like you knew." She finished, appearing to focus all of her attention on her wound again but she was actually watching Obi-Wan through her eyelashes.

Lyyr was far better at reading facial expressions than he gave her credit for, she could easily see his guilt in the way his eyebrows pulled together and how he quickly bit his lip. He probably assumed that being a slave she would be oblivious to such subtleties as body language. Actually it was because she grew up a slave one's survival depended on keeping those in power happy and to do that one needed to anticipate their needs. If you didn't learn how to do that then you didn't survive. Besides her enforced contact with that Zoltron Delcep Noirth certainly taught her a thing or two about reading body language.

She could easily read his guilt in his expression and the way he held himself but she did not expect his apology.

"Master Qui-Gon wanted me to find you and take you to where you'll be staying," Obi-Wan began to explain his voice losing some of its cocky self-assurance and he blushed as she looked him in the eye. Lyyr was trying to figure out if his blushing was for embarrassment over what had happened or because the neck of her tunic had stretched out while she checked her shoulder and he could now easily look down it.

"I called your name several times and you just didn't respond, I only wanted to get your attention. I did not mean to hurt you."

"Well you certainly got my attention." She replied flippantly floored by his genuine apology. No one in her life outside of the Skywalkers had ever apologized for hurting her and meant it. She wondered if it was a trick but she could hear the truth of his words in his voice and see his sincerity in his body language. But more importantly that sixth sense of hers was telling her that what he said was true.

"Qui-Gon was pretty adamant that I find you and bring you back straight away but I think we should stop by the Halls of Healing first." He decided surprising her once more by reaching out and taking her hand. When she did not immediately fall into step behind him, Obi-Wan gave her a gentle tug to encourage her into moving and to avoid jarring her shoulder anymore. She followed him meekly momentarily too stunned to protest.

Lyyr did not know what to make of him holding her hand. There was nothing possessive about the gesture on his part but it certainly felt different. She almost liked holding his hand and being led around by him – it felt oddly comforting – but then she remembered that she was angry at the world and the Jedi in particular. What's more he had deliberately reopened her wound. If they had been on Tatooine she would have done more than just dig a fingernail into his palm. It occurred to her that the Jedi were already changing her and that thought only irritated her further. Lyyr broke his grip with ease causing Obi-Wan to stop and look back at her in puzzlement.

"I am neither an invalid nor a child and do not need to be treated as such," she snapped at him her eyes flashing. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of my wound on my own. It's not the first one I've ever hand and won't be the last."

"Lyyr, I never considered you either of those," he told her honestly enough. "I do think you should let the Jedi Healers take a look at your shoulder, however." Lyyr opened her mouth to protest but he stopped her with a gesture, "At least let them look and make sure everything is fine as a favor to me."

She did not want to do him a favor, she did not want to owe him anything; but she sensed that this was his way of making amends. The fact that he couldn't come right out and say that only proved that he had as much pride as she did. Grudgingly she nodded her agreement and continued following him. The only problem now was, she missed holding his hand.