Falling Back Into Peace
Eventually, Qui Gon settled into a routine. It helped that Tahl woke up, which was the biggest hurdle that the woman needed to overcome. This eased many of his waking hours spent in hopeful mindsets rather than fearful ones (even if he did not name it anything quite so forwardly).
Qui Gon slept for six hours each night, then meditated for two after he woke up. He made early meal, the lingering mindfulness dissipating as he ate and dressed, easing him into the inescapable act of facing reality outside of his door. He tended his plants before he left.
At the salles, he fell into moving meditations, practicing his katas, and sinking into the Living Force. Qui Gon surrounded himself with the wonderful, bright lights of the other Jedi within the Temple. He avoided friendly matches, offered or requested, because he did not want more conflict. He saw enough of it on Melida/Daan. He also didn't trust himself to remain level-headed enough to control his responses so soon after that place. He still worried over Tahl, and Qui Gone found that generally made him a little more of an aggressive sparring partner in his youth. He hoped he improved on this flaw as an adult, but he did not want to test it on the unwitting knights.
He ate mid-meal. Sometimes Qui Gon worked on his katas again after he digested his food enough, or he joined Master Yan for tea and conversation. Rebuilding his relationship with his former Master felt more rewarding than he expected, and the time could easily eat away the long hours of the afternoon. By the time late meal rolled around, he would forgo that meal to spend time with Tahl, whose appetite remained inconsistent, and they meditated together, chatting afterwards. If she had therapy that evening, he helped support and motivate Tahl. At the end of the day, he returned to his rooms, meditated, and went to bed. So repeated the cycle.
Qui Gon never once looked towards the vacant room in his quarters. He never looked at those corners scattered across the Temple where the ghost of a presence lingered, strong enough to be the sound of a familiar sigh. He ignored the absence etched in the halls of his home.
Master Yan indeed began to see a mind healer. He also began to write proposals that he then presented to the Council in order to prevent other tragedies like Galidraan from occurring. The Council still considered the proposals to be too radical, but they were not outfight rejected, and this alone kept Master Yan hopeful that changewouldhappen.
Tahl was released form the Halls of Healing with an initiate volunteering to become her aide. Qui Gon felt many things when he saw an initiate so close to aging out offer such enthusiastic assistance to the woman he cared about deeply, but the relationship that blossomed between them was truly a beautiful thing to behold. Initiate Eerin would undoubtedly prove to be an excellent padawan for Tahl.
In the depths of his lonely heart, Qui Gon tried not to feel bitter. The onlywarmexperience like that had been with Xanatos, who Fell. He reminded himself that life was good, continuing to move on as it should. He was happy for Tahl.
Sometimes he dreamed. He dreamed about a baby long go, the last breath a mere wisp of memory and wishful thinking. A mother kissed the fair face and put the babe in a basket, and placed the basket in the river.
Sometimes he dreamed of a young initiate in a room all alone because of the visions that plagued his sleeping hours to the point his crechemates could no longer handle it. A little boy cried alone in that room, longing for comfort and the touch of another.
Sometimes he dreamed of a scared little boy wandering around, dressed in spacer garb, surrounded by strangers. Lost in a galaxy filled with endless possibilities, and lonely because he didn't have a single ally nearby.
Mostly he dreamed about a young soldier laying atop of rubble. Small, innocuous, he looked like a runaway orphan. Only this was no lost orphan, but an experienced sharp shooter peering through the scope of his rifle.
One death in exchange for the lives of twenty others…and for the hope that there will be peace some day…
He dreamed that the boy always took the shot.
"You've grown tranquil," Master Yan observed one day, weeks after Tahl's release into the Temple, over their shared tea. Curiously, his master had become more reticent during these conversations between them. They still spoke and updated each other over their lives in the Temple. Their budding relationship stagnated somewhere however, and Qui Gon noted that today Master Yan wore an impassive, though not unfriendly, expression.
"I have found more peace in meditation these days than I've ever known before," Qui Gone responded serenely.
"Tahl has mentioned it as well. You are less than you were. You have found such a deep and abiding connection to the Force that you are diminished, Qui Gon," Master Yan told him gravely. "Your kindness and compassion in particular seem to be most notably absent."
"There is no emotion, there is peace," Qui Gon pointed out as he took a sip of tea.
"You are walking a very fine, very dangerous line, padawan," Master Yan warned him. "I've made study if the Sith, and at the very height of the Empire, many of the most powerful Jedi Masters sought solace in the Force and sunk as deeply as you have. They were consumed by it."
Qui Gon accepted these words after careful consideration of them. He logically understood that frequent deep meditations like the ones that he had been doing everyday separated one from the trivial aspects of life, like attachment and anger—and yes, compassion as well.
"I understand what you are saying, and I will take your words into consideration," Qui Gon responded. His master's eyes softened slightly.
"The Force is neither good nor evil; it simply is," Master Yan reminded him gently. "You have used it for comfort, but it is a double-edged sword. You've become as cold as ice. That is not a good use of the Force."
"Your heretical beliefs will one day ostracize you from the Order, Master," Qui Gon replied."
"Perhaps, but not all atrocities are of sentients' own sins," the older man replied. "The Force is not always kind, and does not always align with what we believe of it. We cannot control it, nor should we believe we can ever understand it in any capacity. Some things are destiny, chosen from when life first began, born from stardust."
Qui Gon privately agreed. Tragedy often brought younglings to the Temple, where they greatly contributed to the good of the galaxy. Awful, undesirable events that the Jedi considered as fortuitous in the grand scale of things proved the Force was notgood, even if Jedi tried to be good themselves. Simply looking at Galidraan proved that tragedy, death, and violence often proved to be the catalyst for change. Without that event, nothing would have been considered wrong with the way Jedi handled and approached things. Their beliefs dictated that the massacre there was the will of the Force. How could that not be seen as cruel by the Jedi? How could anyone view it as nothing except balance in all things?
"Qui Gon," his former master prompted gently.
"Hmm?"
"You keep drifting. We converse, and for a moment you are here. Then you go away, and you are cold. You've even grown cold towards Tahl, towards me, in these moments. These moments grow more frequent. Are you not concerned?"
How could he be concerned?
"I am at peace," Qui Goon answered truthfully.
The night that he spoke with Master Yan about the coldness growing in his heart, he dreamed. He dreamed of a padawan-gone-feral, dreamed of raising the child as his padawan. Qui Gon held Tahl in his arms as she died. Obi-wan held him in his arms as he died.
A general stood with an army of mirror-faced soldiers at his back.
A survivor performed ancient katas against the background of a vast desert.
An old man saluted his apprentice with his saber, one with the Force before the killing blow fell.
Qui Gon woke from his dreams and felt nothing. He meditated and found no explanations or answers.
He still felt nothing.