.
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The desert was perfectly yellow and dull, assaulting him with sand, wind, and sun as soon as he stepped down the ramp, followed by a queen pretending to be a handmaiden, and a Gungan pretending to be a sentient being. Qui-Gon started walking towards the settlement, counting on his companions to keep up. Upon seeing the outline of the houses shimmering in the distance, as if floating above the horizon, he squinted. It was worth remembering that every desert was a land of mirages.
They had a brief respite in the shade once within town limits. Jar-Jar was bouncing with excitement, eyes bulging at local market stalls as curiosity took hold of him. The queen was better at pretending to be unimpressed, the sight of traders and locals passing by dragging her gaze regardless.
A string of fruitless searches and many exhausting questions led their lot into the bleached shop that looked like many others. The air vibrated with a promise, a sign of the Force stirring. Even despite the warning from the Force, Qui-Gon found himself momentarily stunned when he saw a child manning a counter. The boy was burning bright in the Force. He looked up from a datapad, his hair as yellow as the desert and eyes just as blue as the ruthless sky above. He scrunched his small face, taking them in, full of as much curiosity as Jar-Jar.
"Hello, I'm Anakin. You need anything?"
Jar-Jar broke into a jumbled explanation, which Qui-Gon interrupted.
"We're looking for spare parts which we need to fix a hyperdrive."
"What's your ship's make?" asked the boy, all business-like.
"Excuse me," the queen said, "we have been told we needed to see Watto, the owner. Do you know where he might be?"
So, she was paying attention.
The boy puffed up, his defiance and frustration heavy in the Force and, as common with someone his age, spilling everywhere. Until he sighed, exaggeratedly loudly, making Qui-Gon suspect such a mannerism to be learned, and released his feelings, clumsily. Qui-Gon was beside himself with fascination.
"Watto will be back in a click," the boy grumbled. "Everybody knows I know the junk he sells better than he."
"Why don't you help us, then," urged him Qui-Gon and the queen deflated a little.
The boy informed them that there was an entire new hyperdrive they could purchase. He asked Qui-Gon about the damage and boldly counted the number of hours needed to get their hyper drive fixed. The boy, Anakin, slowed down his rant when a Toydarian fluttered in from the back door.
Watto refused the credits as payment.
"No use for your credits out there, no use," he puffed, folding thin arms over a rather big belly with an air of feigned importance. "Get real money, then come do business. No real money no business."
Qui-Gon could feel the phantom of heat bearing down on him again. A layer of dust already covered his robes and his boots — one could write on them if inclined to do so. His throat was parched. He saw the disappointment flashing through the queen's eyes and suspected not all of it was directed at Watto. If not for the boy standing between him and the Toydarian, Qui-Gon would just use a Force suggestion on this Watto and be done with it.
Meanwhile, the boy was glancing at Qui-Gon and Watoo, eyes moving back and forth.
He opened his mouth to speak, but didn't, interrupted by a new arrival.
A man stepped into the shop, pulling down the scarf wrapped around his face. His haircut was a little shaggy around the edges, and the residual softness of his handsome face made him look youthful. He grinned at the boy's exclamation of joy.
"Ben!" the boy cried out, barreling towards the man like an unguided missile and launching himself onto him.
The man caught Anakin in his arms, swooping him up and chuckling.
"You are back so soon! How?" the boy spluttered.
"I'll tell you later," the newcomer's gaze slid over each of them, finally landing on Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon was both impressed and disturbed. Impressed at how quickly he schooled his expression. And disturbed at the naked shock flashing through his eyes. The empathetic strength of it was enough to send a sharp jab through Qui-Gon's chest. He made himself shake it off, dimly aware of Anakin pestering Ben with questions. He wished he knew what he had ever done to warrant such an appalling reaction.
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xxx
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Ben's eyes looked tired up close. He seemed like a man who had been on the brink of sleep for too long, but had yet to get any. With years upon years of tough missions behind him, Qui-Gon knew the look very well. He committed himself to further observations.
Ben was talking to Watto and the Toydarian was visibly conceding, little by little. It was Ben's tone, or perhaps the way he was holding himself, respectful just enough, reluctant sure enough, subtly threatening only if you squint hard enough. Qui-Gon glanced back at the boy collecting his things into a backpack from the counter, then at Ben again. He was openly carrying a well-used blaster, like all sensible folks in this part of the world. Heavy gauntlets protected his hands. Qui-Gon pondered on the proportion of weapons he was allowed to see compared to those hidden under the cloak.
It hit him as a surprise when he noticed the queen observing Ben too, as only females can — with fine interest which made her eyes gleam, warmly. That confirmed a streak of recklessness in her. Qui-Gon could only hope she was sensible enough not to act on it while in his care.
Finally, Watto fluttered away and Ben beckoned Anakin closer.
"I decided not to press him today. However, I put an idea in his head that he can be missing quite a deal," Ben told them. "You can come again tomorrow. The business has been slow, so I suggest you make your credits his problem."
It was hard to miss that he was making a polite effort to get rid of them.
"Nah, Ben," Anakin pulled at his sleeve. "You should help tomorrow too. And you should come with us," he was looking at Qui-Gon and the queen imploringly. "The storm's not far away and we have space. You can stay the night. You too, Jar-Jar!"
With a level of self-control one could only envy, Ben offered a thin smile. "You love dragging home all the kinds, don't you?"
Qui-Gon actually had to suppress a laugh.
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xxx
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The home Anakin led them to was nicer than Qui-Gon had expected. A thin woman was waiting on the porch, strands of her dark hair torn from her braid by the intensifying wind. She greeted Ben with a smile and a pat on the arm, ushering everyone inside. Qui-Gon looked up one last time. Beyond the horizon, he could see nothing but a devouring wall of sand, moving to swallow the town. The ground and the sky bled into one.
Anakin's mother told them to make themselves comfortable in the living area with a large table before disappearing into the kitchen together with Ben.
Her son was chatting up the queen, craning his neck upwards to do so, and whatever he was saying made her laugh. He clasped her hand then, another bold move, and proceeded to drag her down the arched corridor.
Qui-Gon eyed Jar-Jar, the only one left behind, and Jar-Jar eyed him.
"Me thinking, everyone's ignoring mesa and yousa," said Jar-Jar sagely, his large ears hanging flat.
"The respite is not unwelcome, my excitable friend," Qui-Gon muttered.
The respite was indeed short-lived as Ben came back with a golden protocol droid. Both were carrying plates. Ben was also balancing a large fruit bowl in one hand. Dressed down to a plain tunic, he appeared less tense. His face looked a whole shade lighter scrubbed clean, which made Qui-Gon question his own appearance.
"Come with me, I will show you where you can freshen up," he said, effectively reading Qui-Gon's mind. "I apologize I haven't thought of it in advance."
"Please, don't worry on our behalf," Qui-Gon reassured him smoothly.
Whenever Ben looked at Qui-Gon, Qui-Gon got the impression that he forced himself to do so. There was always a minute struggle there, a hesitation. It was there now, again.
"As you say," Ben shrugged and turned away. "Follow me."
As everyone seated around the table, collective hunger stoked by rich, herbal smells of freshly cooked food, Anakin was the first to start a conversation, not deterred by the stew he was chewing. He stared at Qui-Gon and asked. "Are you a Jedi, sir?"
"Anakin," Ben interrupted. "What did I tell you about talking with your mouth full?"
"I know, I know, I'm swallowing and then talking," he gulped loudly, for show. And continued, none the wiser. "I asked Padmé about you, but she didn't tell. Said it is not her secret to tell. Why is it a secret? Are you doing secret stuff on Tatooine?"
"What makes you think I am a Jedi, Anakin?" Qui-Gon said just to stop the questions from spilling. "Maybe, I'm just a humble traveler."
"Um, no," the boy peered at him, squinting, as if he could see inside him. The weight of his gaze irked Qui-Gon. "You have a lightsaber. Anyone can see it on your belt, you know."
Qui-Gon smiled at Anakin, deciding to indulge him. "A weapon does not define a wielder. What if I bought it? Stole it? Found it by accident?"
Ben was watching the exchange from the opposite end of the table.
"But you didn't," simply said Anakin. "It is yours. It feels like you."
The boy astounded him. The second time in a day. Say what you like about Anakin, but he could impress even someone as world-weary as Qui-Gon. Especially someone as world-weary as Qui-Gon.
"What brought you here, Master Jedi?" spoke Ben. "An accident or are you here by design?"
"We're here by accident," the queen said, quickly stepping in. "Our ship was damaged on our way to Coruscant. Once we get it fixed, we will be off."
"Damaged as in an engine failure? Or something else?"
Qui-Gon went for honesty. "By laser canons. Thankfully, we escaped with the ship more or less intact."
Anakin made an excited noise.
Ben scowled. "How long you have until you are traced here?" he demanded, and Qui-Gon could understand where he was coming from.
"That is unknown. Our intention is to repair the ship and leave as soon as possible. We don't want to cause any trouble," he said softly, pushing calm through the Force and encountering a dull barrier.
Jar-Jar stuck an attack on the fruit bowl and Ben caught the tip of his tongue, seemingly unthinkingly. Anakin exclaimed, "Jar-Jar, no!". The queen grinned, shooting another glance at Ben: this one tinted with appreciation.
"Nice reflexes," said Qui-Gon.
Ben let Jar-Jar go. Under their collective attention, he settled back in slight discomfort. No matter how outspoken he was, in the end, he was a young man, who just happened to get entangled in Jedi affairs like many others before him. Qui-Gon could sympathize.
"Mesa sorry, so sorry," lamented Jar-Jar, to which Ben told him to take whatever he wanted with his hands.
Force, but the Gungan was underappreciated, thought Qui-Gon. Jar-Jar was a true jewel of Naboo and should be utilized exclusively in tense situations.
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xxx
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Qui-Gon saw a certain kind of knowing in Shmi Skywalker's eyes when he started asking her about Anakin. Her story was simple and strange. Casually terrifying in places. She claimed Anakin had no father. She also said Anakin and she had been slaves. Then came Ben. Things changed. The fact that she knew little where he came from didn't worry her at all.
"I know enough. We have known him for years. Living through some things together binds you tight," she said. "If you want to know more, ask him."
"He won't talk."
"Yes, he probably won't." Shmi peered at him, squinting, so much a mother of her son. "Why are you asking? Do you have a score to settle? A debt? Who is he to you?"
The truth was, Qui-Gon didn't remember. He didn't even know what questions he should be asking and trying to formulate these right questions was exhausting. He had done a number of dubious things in the past. Some of them in the line of duty, some due to a weakness of his character. As long as he could remember, he tried to be a better man, a better Jedi, but he was never on the same wavelength as the rest of his fellow Jedi, always falling short, and neither was he that great of a person. His messy reputation often preceded him. His was a record only marginally better than that of those who twisted the Jedi teachings to their personal benefit. No wonder someone like Ben might take one look at him and recoil in dreadful shock. Hard not to, when plenty of events in Qui-Gon's life proved that he could be destructive.
Shmi mused, quietly. "Anakin is special."
"Your son is very gifted. He can become the greatest Jedi of the generation if you allow me to train him."
In lieu of confirming his idea, she looked out of the window, where the storm had settled down and the night was dark and sparkling with cold silver stars. She didn't speak for a while, gathering her thoughts, so Qui-Gon waited.
"It is up to him to decide. It doesn't matter what I say. He does what he wants," she smiled. "Ben tries to teach him things, makes him read and write, invents tasks for him. Just like you, he has this idea that Anakin can be an achiever someday."
"Don't you think he can achieve great things?"
"I am his mother. I think it doesn't matter who he becomes as long as he is free and happy. You may ask him, let him choose, and let's hope he chooses wisely."
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xxx
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Qui-Gon couldn't stop thinking about Ben. He kept telling himself that he should focus on Anakin and his extraordinary potential, that Ben was probably just one of many he had crossed, and though it was awful in itself, he could do nothing to remedy the past, that if Ben had wanted to settle something, he would have said something. He attempted a brief meditation on this. It didn't work very well.
When Anakin blundered outside, still rubbing sleep from his eyes, Qui-Gon was just finishing his attempt at meditation and felt relieved to see the boy.
Anakin started with a good morning and a ramble about a strange dream he was having. Pulling himself up to sit on the ledge, he was swinging his feet back and forth.
Even now, Qui-Gon was torn. He didn't lie when he told Shmi that Anakin could become the greatest Jedi: he was already so bright in the Force, his connection shining like a sun. The image of Anakin as a Jedi came so easily to him. Too easily, perhaps. This image was untainted by the ultimate sacrifices all the Jedi had to make. Submitting one's life to the Republic, doing questionable jobs at times, living in accordance with the Code he has always treated loosely. The best aspects of becoming a Jedi were immense too. After all, unlike his Master, Qui-Gon remained as much of a critic as he was still a believer.
"So I saw the lightsaber zip right through the air into his hand. How wizard is that!" Anakin was talking about his dream in detail.
"Anakin, I want to tell you something."
Anakin looked a little disappointed that his tale got interrupted, but he nodded.
Qui-Gon started by telling Anakin about the Force. He was amazed at how quickly Anakin grasped everything. He knew the Force without knowing what this tiny voice inside his head was. He could feel things. His hold over the Force was unrefined, but unwavering. When Qui-Gon told him that he could become a Jedi, Anakin jumped down from the ledge in triumph. He pumped his small fists in the air — a joyful declaration to the world.
"I foresee you can become a great Jedi, but," Qui-Gon crouched to Anakin's eye level, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. "But you must consider that becoming a Jedi will mean leaving Tatooine behind."
"Of course, I will miss mom and Ben, but I always wanted to leave," Anakin declared flippantly. "I hate it here."
"It's not so simple. You must know that once you decide to become a Jedi, you sever the ties with your current family. The Jedi become your new family, and the Temple becomes your home. You make the choice, Anakin. Between what you have now and what you can have in the future as a Jedi Knight."
"Are you saying I won't see mom or Ben again?" he deflated, staring, as Qui-Gon shook his head.
Having sensed a vague presence, Qui-Gon turned to look back to the archway. Ben was standing there, his arms folded across his chest. As if a ghost summoned by Anakin mentioning his name. He bowed his head in a silent greeting. Qui-Gon very nearly came up with a conversation starter, but changed his mind. He bowed in response and left.
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xxx
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Anakin didn't stop talking on the way back to the shop. His main conversation partners were the queen and Jar-Jar, and it colored his exuberant communication a lot. Unlike the three of them, Qui-Gon was walking side by side with quiet Ben. For him, it was a weird pendulum of a walk. Ben just kept his gaze focused on the road, wrapped in his silence like in a shield. He lost the look of acute sleep deprivation a little. It strangely comforted Qui-Gon: an unexpected but not unwelcome surge of empathy stirred within him.
Upon arrival, they found Watto fluttering unhappily inside the shop, asking Anakin several times if he had seen anyone suspicious yesterday. After Anakin's denial, he gave their lot a sour and foul look. Someone trashed his shop at night. It was not the only shop broken into. Looked like his neighbors suffered too.
Qui-Gon sensed the wrongness of it. He looked at the toppled shelves, probing the Force for an explanation.
"I'll deal with it," Ben offered. "Will you step out for a little bit? Let him cool down."
Something in Qui-Gon bristled at being sidelined, but then he recognized the rationality of Ben's proposal. It was not in their interests to antagonize Watto. The queen understood and took to handling Jar-Jar, leading the Gungan out of the shop. Qui-Gon followed suit.
She blinked hard against the blazing suns outside and turned to him.
"What if the Federation sent someone here already?" the queen spoke purposefully softly, barely moving her lips — an acquired talent Qui-Gon appreciated. "What if we endangered these people?"
It took a moment for Qui-Gon to consider a reply. Personally, he didn't think that was the case. It wouldn't hurt to check with the captain if they noticed anything suspicious.
"I will check. Come."
He led them in an empty sandstone alcove, gladly trading sun for shadow. As soon as the captain informed him that a royal starship received a transmission, Qui-Gon felt a flare of irritation. It could have exposed them. They needed that hyperdrive, fast.
Ben found them soon. Anakin was trailing behind him in a cloud of vicious misery, his small face twisted into a murderous grimace.
"The negotiations were short," Ben deadpanned. Then, glanced at Anakin. "There is a lesson out there about not calling people names. Especially, if you want something from them."
"But he was mean! And he started first! He called you names!"
Ben patted him on the back, "I appreciate your intent, Anakin, but I can survive a few offensive words as you might see for yourself." He took one look at Qui-Gon and the queen, and his face fell. "What happened?"
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xxx
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In the living area with a large table, in the house that had offered them more than simply food and shelter, Ben approached Qui-Gon.
"Let's talk."
Qui-Gon rose without a question.
Ben plotted a course around the house that bypassed all its inhabitants, leading Qui-Gon to the back porch. He stopped there and turned to face him.
"You want to take Anakin to Coruscant with you, correct? You think he can become a Jedi?"
"Yes," confirmed Qui-Gon. "Anakin is anything but ordinary. He deserves to be taught how to utilize his potential."
"Can you guarantee, personally, that Anakin will be cared for?"
"The Jedi look after their own."
Ben scowled. "Spare me your platitudes of goodwill, please."
Qui-Gon stared fixedly at him. "I give you my word. The Force is so strong with him. I just don't see him not rising up as a Jedi."
"There are many ways for one to fail," Ben replied quietly.
Qui-Gon endured a long moment of time without a word spoken between them. He sensed the inner struggle he was standing a witness to, so he held back.
"I want him to go with you, to become a Jedi. We talked about it and Anakin is so excited. Tatooine is not a place for him and I think he knows, deep down, that he has to go."
"He is attached to you and to his mother," said Qui-Gon. "There are certain requirements for a child to be accepted into the Order…"
"You're willing to overlook these requirements in a special case, aren't you?" Ben sliced through his argument with no mercy, leaving Qui-Gon wrong-footed somehow.
"Yes," Qui-Gon admitted after a pause. "The Order has extensive resources specifically tailored to raising talented Force-sensitive children. Also, a lack of proper training can be dangerous for someone like him."
"The latter is debatable."
"If you say so."
Ben let out a skeptical huff. And then looked Qui-Gon in the eyes. Directly, steadily. Qui-Gon was granted a glimpse through the façade and what he saw was weariness reflected back at him, a kind of weariness better suited for someone of Qui-Gon's age.
"I will pay for your hyperdrive. I have been saving up. For Anakin's education among many things. If the Republic is going to pay for that instead, I see it as a fair exchange. I am still short of the amount Watto wants, but I will top the deal with my racing pod. Bet he will like it. After all, he's been salivating after it for a while."
Qui-Gon was previously stunned by Anakin. Now came Ben's turn to astound him.
"Do we have a deal, Master Jinn?"
"We do," Qui-Gon nodded.
He accepted this generosity and was relieved at that. Why pretend? It was very welcome in their circumstances.
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xxx
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The shadows of dawn stretched across Anakin and the pod. Qui-Gon was sure he was speaking to it, though no words were said. He was patting it, like one would pet an animal companion: with love and care. He was only a child, and a good one too. But he cared so much about the possessions which were not even his. Qui-Gon made a mental note to address it later.
"I never even tried it," Anakin complained. "Next year, he said. He promised."
Ben had let it slip that Anakin and he built it together. Qui-Gon could easily picture Ben and little Anakin cannibalizing old rusty vehicles. Digging up parts in the junkyards and probably scrubbing the sand off them for hours.
Not too soon, Ben called for them, so they left the pod behind in Watto's care.
A gust of wind blew sand dust into Qui-Gon's eyes with meticulous aim. In all honesty, he wouldn't miss Tatooine. He was standing a witness to Anakin saying goodbye to Shmi and Ben. After his mother gave him a hug and whispered blessings into his ear, Anakin glanced back at Qui-Gon. His reluctance to part with them was fully visible — the boy was much like an open book.
Ben hugged him briefly and ruffled his hair.
Qui-Gon caught himself listening in. He wasn't sure what motivated him.
"You will be fine," Ben said.
"Will you be fine?" Anakin asked, as straight as it could get. "You're very sad."
"I will be, young one. I promise."
"I don't believe you."
"It's not about me. Do you want to become a Jedi? Do you need to become a Jedi?"
Anakin shuffled in place. "I did what you said. Listened to my feelings," he said under his breath, so Qui-Gon barely heard him. "I do… I want to, but…"
The suns were climbing up and the heat was converging around Qui-Gon, slapping at the patches of exposed skin. Discomforted, he suddenly didn't want to listen anymore. So he strode to where the queen and Jar-Jar had been waiting by a hoverboard with the most valuable hyperdrive in this part of the galaxy mounted on it.
After Anakin joined them, they took off across the desert back to the ship. The queen tried comforting Anakin. Out of the corner of his eye, Qui-Gon saw her walking step in step with the boy, the soft murmur of her voice eaten up by the distance separating them, and leaving only gentle impressions behind.
The line of sight remained flat until, at last, Qui-Gon glimpsed a silver sheen of the royal starship on the horizon. Nothing out of place as far as he could see, yet he felt something shift in the air. Nothing seemed wrong, and that in itself was wrong. He darted to the queen, pulling her down just as a projectile hit the sand instead of her head. A speeder bike shot out from behind the rocky outcrop, its rider intent on running them over.
"Run!" Qui-Gon ordered his companions. Then, he saw Anakin looking at him with wide eyes, lingering. "Go. Make sure Padmé gets to the ship!"
The last line worked like magic, and the boy broke into the run too.
That said, Qui-Gon ignited his lightsaber and stepped in the way of the bike.
The assassin let go of controls, jumping off the moving bike and over Qui-Gons head. His red blade hit Qui-Gon's with a hiss. The strength of his blow made Qui-Gon's arm numb for a terrifying instant. The assassin sneered at him as he rained blows upon blows on Qui-Gon. There was no respite. The assassin just pressed him down and down. Strong and fast, and full of dark fury unlike any lightsaber-wielder Qui-Gon had ever fought before.
He was breathing hard, too hard, and when he missed a hit, it felt inevitable.
The assassin straight-out punched him in the face.
His leg crumbled under him, kicked in, and Qui-Gon went down, a saber falling from his grip.
"Over there!" heard Qui-Gon and, in his horror, he recognized Ben's voice.
He wasn't hallucinating. He followed his line of sight and saw Ben.
Ben, who was heaving, chest rising and falling, his blaster aimed at the assassin. Qui-Gon wanted to scream at him to run, but it felt like his voice was stolen, trapped in his throat.
The assassin launched at Ben, lightsaber blazing. Qui-Gon couldn't watch. He also couldn't look away.
Ben didn't shoot.
Didn't move.
He did throw something, right into the assassin's face.
Sand, Qui-Gon realized. Oh, it was so clever. Only it wouldn't stop a Force-user.
The slash of the red lightsaber passed barely an inch from Ben's head when he dropped down into the roll. Something zipped through the air, a glint of metal. The assassin was clad in black, so the green light piercing his chest was standing out very, very much.
Then, the assassin sagged onto the ground, thumping down and stirring a little cloud of dust.
Qui-Gon couldn't believe his eyes. He sat up, pulling at his bad leg, and looked across at Ben. From far away, he heard voices screaming, yet he ignored them for now. Ben still had Qui-Gon's lightsaber in his hand; his eyes were trained on the body in front of him. He got up with a grunt, picking up his blaster and, all of the sudden, put a bolt through the dead man's head.
The body jerked, making Qui-Gon recoil.
"A rule of headshot, Master Jedi." Ben saw his reaction and his mouth twisted, unpleasantly. "Better be safe than sorry."
He stepped around the body and reached out to offer Qui-Gon his lightsaber. The suns lit him from the back so that his hair shone with a faint glint of red gold. As he smiled a crooked smile, hints of dimples softening his face, Qui-Gon was overwhelmed with strange frustration.
He took his lightsaber, noting that Ben was even holding it correctly, remembering what he had just seen.
"You pulled it with the Force," he said, sure of it, and watched a blank mask slipping onto Ben's face.
"I have no idea what you mean."
Any conversation was well and truly over when the captain and a handful of his guardsmen arrived, a badly flushed Anakin somehow keeping up. Qui-Gon looked away from the boy clinging to Ben, thinking. He'd keep trying to remember until he got it right. Until he got him right.
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xxx
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Ben told them that he had seen a probe droid back in the town right after they had left. So he had run off after them to either warn them or help them. As expected, the queen, the real one, was watching him with bated breath, obviously having a thing for such heroics. Qui-Gon had camped on the sofa in the common room meanwhile, barred from putting a strain on his leg.
The hyperdrive was reinstalled quite fast. When the time for their second goodbyes came, the atmosphere turned dull. Anakin came back to sit with him when the ship hit hyperspace. Qui-Gon was debating with himself whether he should comfort the boy. Anakin made the choice for him, leaning into his side. He was very upset, so Qui-Gon allowed it this once.
"Anakin, if you don't like it at the Temple, if you ever feel uncomfortable, you can come back. I will take you back myself."
Anakin tilted his head to look up at him.
"Really?"
"Really," confirmed Qui-Gon with a smile. "While the will of the Force is wise, no destiny is set in stone. For our choices hold as much power. Not all Force-users are destined to become the Jedi," he thought of Ben and felt a ping of regret in his heart. And, with a grace of a final slap in the face, a dim memory resurfaced.
One earnest boy, one brutal world, and one fallen apprentice.
Oh, Force.
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