Epilogue: Adjustment

Exhaustion plagued her and she could not honestly remember the last time she felt so bone tired after such little physical exertion. Master Windu had warned her that using the Force took just as much of a toll as doing anything else. At first she hadn't been prepared to believe him, but now she took him at his word.

With limbs feeling as if they were made out of some dense alloy instead of flesh Lyyr dragged herself into her quarters. She then draped herself full length across the dilapidated couch she had inherited. It was a crap piece of furniture when compared to others expectations, but it was an unheard of luxury item for Lyyr. With a sigh she settled herself further into the embrace of the worn cushions. If she never had to lift anything ever again it would be too soon. A groan of pain escaped her as she shut her eyes to block out the artificial light.

Mace had warned her that over exerting her connection to the Force could result in a migraine. She was feeling those effects now. Lyyr had heard his warning but had promptly ignored it. Using the Force was like exercising any muscle; it had to be tested, pushed to its limits and beyond in order to grow stronger. That's what Lyyr was attempting to do; strengthen her connection to the Force. She gladly accepted the consequences as proof that she was succeeding in her goals.

She pushed herself constantly and well past the point where more prudent individuals would have advised her to stop. This meant she often went unsupervised in her exploration of her Force powers; and it failed to worry her; after all the majority of her life was spent in the pursuit of dangerous pastimes without responsible supervision. Still she was not naive to think her solo practicing went unnoticed; even though she often did not have an instructor she knew that they could sense her mucking around. To say that she was accustomed to being thrown into the deep end and left to sink or swim would be an understatement. Lyyr had never known any other kind of life.

Besides after spending the first few months of her apprenticeship reading all she could about the collective theory on the Force and the various powers it gifted individuals with she thought she knew all she needed to about theory. Moreover, the hundreds of years of dry theory she had read provided all the supervision she required. Besides, her goal was to get herself out of remedial training.

They hadn't really put her in with the babies but they might as well have. The private tutoring with Master Yoda embarrassed her and it did not help to endear her to her fellow initiates. There were all sorts of whispers that followed her through the hallway; accusations that she was not proper Jedi material and expressions of doubt about whether or not she should have been accepted as a padawan learner.

She heard the whispers, for they weren't all that subtle when murmuring them, and she did her best to ignore them. This certainly wasn't the first time someone decided to speak disparagingly about her behind her back, Lyyr was used to that. But if she was honest with herself, at least, she'd admit that it upset her. It bothered her more than the hard work she had been doing.

Lyyr did not mind working herself into exhaustion then getting up and doing the same again; that was all she knew. Moreover, the fact that she could wake up the next day and work all over again was something to celebrate, to be grateful for. On Tatooine if one could not work then one should not be allowed to live.

Rumors circulated constantly. They were mostly speculation about how she bribed her way into a spot at the Temple. Never mind the fact that Jedi were supposedly above such things as bribery. Lyyr wasn't stupid. She knew that her presence was resented by many. She was too old to be an initiative in the Temple; in fact the Council should have never accepted her. She had been stuck into a sort of limbo with remedial training and waiting to see if any Jedi Master would step forward to take her on as a padawan. Yoda told her not to worry a Jedi Master would be found for her.

Anakin's acceptance into their ranks came under just as much scrutiny but the prophecy provided a handy explanation for his presence. There was no readymade explanation to excuse away her. The identity of her mother had become public knowledge and fodder for even more disparaging remarks. Many believed that Yoda and Mace were treating her as some sort of experiment, to see if they could fix in the daughter what had been wrong with the mother. For after all, only a subpar Jedi would have allowed herself to become pregnant then try and actually raise the child. The gossipers conveniently forgot the fact that there was a special dispensation that allowed Jedi to have children if there was dire need. Master Mundi was married to five wives and had several children for Force's sake!

Honestly, it was the fact that they were Jedi that made their rejection and hostility towards her hurt so much. Lyyr was just thankful that her time as a slave had hardened her to such hostility and kept her from showing any outward signs of how badly she was affected by their bigotry. Living as a slave had also taught her how to keep a tight rein on her emotions. She never cracked where others could witness it.

Back on Naboo after having told Yoda that she accepted their offer to train her, Lyyr felt as if she had finally found the place to which she belonged. That was naively foolish of her. She should have realized that the Jedi weren't any different. They talked a good talk but at the end of the day they were just as full as petty prejudices as the rest of the galaxy.

Lyyr snorted sardonically. To think Jedi are meant to be above such petty concerns. Apparently there were not as adapt at emotional detachment as they liked to believe. At least she was supported by the Council. That made having to swallow the ignorance of her fellow initiates and the Jedi Knights who should have known better easier. The Council thought she belonged there; in fact Master Yoda was uncharacteristically aggressive in his insistence.

Overhearing some of the disparaging remarks made against her mother only increased the gratitude she felt towards Yoda for declaring that no one but those in the Council knew her father's identity. The only ones outside of the Jedi Coucnil who knew were herself, Obi-wan and Anakin; the fewer people who knew the truth about Veira and Qui-Gon's relationship the better. Lyyr could learn to cope with being universally disliked and she could cope with the loneliness. At least publicly, in her more private moments she was willing to admit how pained she was by feeling rejected. What she could not learn to cope with was hearing them tear apart her father.

With and explosive sigh Lyyr threw an arm over her eyes trying to block out what little light from the setting sun filtered in through her windows. None of this ghastly introspection was helping to ease her developing migraine. Wearily she raised a hand and with a judicial application of the Force dimmed the artificial lights and closed her curtains more firmly. She did not feel capable of standing up and doing those things manual.

"Lazy child," a familiar voice chided her. She ignored it, choosing to think that it was her conscious berating her for her selfishly petty use of her powers. Why her conscious decided it should sound like her dead father Lyyr couldn't fathom, she had only just recently truly started to pay any attention to it all.

"You silly girl, you should have made the tea Vokara left for you as soon as you got in. She concocted that nasty brew for a reason, to help sooth your mind since you mulishly insist on over working it." Her conscious continued to scold her in Qui-Gon's voice.

She continued to ignore it, right up until the point when she felt ghostly hands remove her arm from her forehead and replace it with a wet cloth. Her eyes flew open then and she found herself staring into a pair of ghostly blue eyes that were crinkled with amusement.

"Wha"— She yelped, she actually yelped, trying to backpedal off of the couch even though there was nowhere for her to go. The ghostly form flickered in and out of focus as he laughed – he had the audacity to actually laugh at her confusion.

"You sir are dead!" She accused him unintelligently.

"Oh my dear girl, I assure you I am alive as I can be." Qui-Gon managed to explain between his chuckles. It was the man's typically cryptic response that calmed her.

"Lyyr did you honestly think death would keep me away from you once I found you again?"

"For Force's sake! Now I bloody have a father," for some reason that remark made the man laugh even harder. She frowned up at him. "I need to sleep; this is clearly a case of sleep deprivation."

At that she closed her eyes tightly and turned to face the back of the couch. She drifted off then comforted by her father's chuckles and the occasional soothing touch of a ghostly hand rubbing her back. For the first time in her life Lyyr felt safe to sleep while someone else watched over her. Before she finally succumbed to slumber she felt herself smile.

I don't have to do this alone. She thought for the second time since Naboo and this time she believed it.