Chapter Eleven

"Fight or Flee"

The aches and pains, which typically accompany old age had crept upon Qui-Gon with as much stealth as the most highly trained Jedi, and before he had realized it, his joints had begun refusing to cooperate, not seeming to want to bend like they used to. His vision had become limited as well, and his hearing was somewhat impaired. The injury on Naboo had only sped up an already natural-occuring process, the temple therapist had told him. He would soon experience chronic back pain, difficulties urinating, and possibly even develop asthma.

He could deal with all of that. In fact, he hadn't expected to live this long. It was difficult to find a Jedi Master of advanced years in the Temple.

Unless they were a member of the Council, of course, and spent their days bickering behind closed doors, instead of being out in the field risking life and limb.

Unlike a certain council member, whom he refused to name, Qui-Gon tried not to complain about his limitations. He had decided long ago to silently cope with them instead.

But here...here in the fourth floor training salle, in the early morning hours of the day, with the first rays of the Coruscant sun filtering through the overhead sky-windows, his concerns regarding his disabilities simply disappeared. Here, he could allow the Force to flow through his body, basically eliminating any physical limitations he had acquired along his long career. His lightsaber became an extension of his hand, his legs carried him as they had in his youth and lifted him from the ground as if he weighed no more than a feather. His vision was clearer, his hearing more acute. Embraced by its power, all of his senses were heightened. Here, he could get as close to the Force as possible, without actually becoming One with it.

To the observer, it would appear as if he were simply going through an advanced form of Ataru, his preferred fighting style, but to Qui-Gon, he was free.

Oblivious to his surroundings, the Jedi Master's sword became a blur as it swung against its imaginary opponents, attacking from all directions, at every possible angle. As each invisible victim fell, Qui-Gon became more focused, his fighting more intense, until he was performing aerial feats he hadn't attempted in years. He was a deadly warrior. He was a winged predator soaring through the air in search of his next meal.

He was lying flat on his face.

What in the hell...?

Whomever had disturbed his concentration, had done so with such abruptness, he hadn't been prepared for it. The disturbance in the Force had been so great, he figured the Sith had somehow made their way into the Temple, and one of them was in the salle with him now. He must prepare his mind for battle.

But first, he had to get off the floor.

Suddenly, a pair of hands lifted him up. Before drawing his attention to confirm who his rescuer was, a quiet voice in his mind informed him it wasn't a Sith after all. It was something much worse.

When he turned around to see with his own eyes, he discovered his padawan glaring at him.

"Are you injured?"

Qui-Gon attempted to hide his surprise. The question was reminiscent of caring and it immediately rushed forward fond memories. No one had ever taken better care of him than Obi-Wan.

"I do not believe so. Thank you."

He had seen this look in Obi-Wan's eyes a few times in the past, when his apprentice had become frustrated or upset. Typically as a youth, the young man would allow his emotions to flow freely, and he would rant and rave about this or that. Time, however, seemed to have affected Obi-Wan as much as it had himself, only in a more positive way. His Padawan had grown up. No longer did he allow his anger to control his actions or his words.

"Why in the hell are you bothering Senator Amidala?"

Although, he could be wrong. The words were spit from the younger man's mouth while his eyes burned within in their sockets.

"Obi-Wan, if you'll give me a chance to explain..."

"She said you've been flirting with her? Have you lost your senses? I contacted the council, hoping they would have you sent to the healers. You definitely need to get your head examined if you think you even have a chance..."

"Padawan..."

"Don't call me that."

Maybe he shouldn't have practiced such an advanced stage of lightsaber drills. It had been too taxing. There was a pain right in the center of his chest.

"You don't have the right. Not any longer. I'm a Knight now, and I have a padawan of my own, whom I treat with respect by the way."

"I know that," Qui-Gon cut in. He was aware there were some painful issues being harbored inside, which Obi-Wan needed to let out. If only it didn't hurt him so badly in the process. But, this wasn't about him. This was about his padawan. "I've watched you with Anakin, and you've done well. I'm proud of you, Obi-Wan."

Even as a youth, Obi-Wan had never worn skepticism very well. It simply didn't suit him.

"I don't care what you think. I just want you to leave Padme alone. Just stay away from her."

A veiled threat. How very interesting. Qui-Gon had never been one to turn down a challenge.

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Then you leave me no choice."

He wasn't sure what was about to happen. It had been a few years since he had fought Obi-Wan in battle, and from what he'd heard, his student had improved dramatically. And even though, he wasn't in the best of health, if a fight is what Obi-Wan needed to clear his head, then so be it. Qui-Gon would do whatever it took to help his beloved student.

His hand was inching toward his weapon, when Obi-Wan quickly withdrew a folded parchment, immediately stabbing it into his chest.

That was the second time in the last few days he'd been blindsided by paper. Some warrior he'd turned out to be.

"What's this?"

"Read it."

Qui-Gon obeyed his student, unfolding what appeared to be a legitimate and legalistic-appearing document, signed by Master Yoda and Chancellor Palpatine. At the top of the form were the worrds, "Ex Parte Order of Protection," and they caused the pain which had been in his chest earlier to sink to the pit of his stomach. The petitioner of the action was none other than Senator Amidala, and he, Qui-Gon Jinn, had been listed as the Respondent. A hearing had been set for 0900 the following day in Chancellor Palpatine's main office suite.

Qui-Gon had fought battles where it seemed as if there was no way to win. He had stood against countless draigons when the odds were clearly against him. However, he knew when it was time to call a truce.

And this was it. This was getting ridiculous, and it was time to put an end to it.