DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment purposes and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author. Not to be archived without permission of the author(s).
The second Qui-Gon's bare feet struck the floor, his knees buckled, smacking up against his ribs. He gasped and knelt, holding his arms around his battered torso and trying to restrain the tears burning in his eyes. Focus, he whispered to himself. Focus...
Slowly, he got to his feet and staggered to the door, feeling his head whirl painfully. The floor seemed to be trying to rear up and hit him. He put one one hand and held onto the door, still doubled over .
Focus... use the Force...
The lock jiggled briefly, then began to rock in the steel door. The edges began to curl...
Qui-Gon's blue eyes narrowed as he focused further in the Force, pulling it around himself and jabbing it into the lock like a needle, white-hot and powerful. He held his breath...
... and felt something else around him. It felt like the Force he knew and obeyed, but... it was darkness, emptiness... it seemed to permeate the very air he breathed. It curled in the edges of his vision like smoke curling... it was inviting, seductive...
No!
Qui-Gon screamed, banishing the darkness to the furthest corners of his consciousness. He took a shuddering breath and focused on the lock again. It sprang apart, already weakened by his efforts. The door swung wide...
Obi-Wan crept through the palace's corridors, his lightsaber active and humming coldly beside his head. He was tense as a hunted animal, his footsteps muffled by the thin carpet beneath his feet.
He was certain that Qui-Gon was here. After years of being the Jedi's apprentice, Obi-Wan had come to sense Qui-Gon's presence no matter where. And the young apprentice was sensing his master now, sensing desperation, fear, and a sudden spike of determination.
What scared him was the edges of darkness he had sensed only moments before, creeping through their link like icy fingers. For a moment, he had faltered, rubbing at his eyes and shaking his head. Then it had dissipated, dropping away, and Qui-Gon's essence had flared in the Force more brightly than before.
Obi-Wan was worried. Very worried.
He had only sensed that stifling darkness once before, when he and Qui-Gon had helped to track down a dangerous Jedi who had turned. The sinister Tamakio had cornered the apprentice in an underground cave and attacked him with a strength reinforced by the dark side. Obi-Wan had stumbled away, unable to fend off the Jedi with his insufficient training.
Qui-Gon had found them, and the resulting duel had taken Obi-Wan's breath away, as the two men had slashed at each other with speed he had never seen before. In the end, Qui-Gon had killed Tamakio, but a wave of furious darkness had emanated from him as he had died. Obi-Wan had sensed the hate that Tamakio had directed at the stoic Qui-Gon.
He felt the same hate echoing through the Force now, but repressed, restrained. It was a good sign, Obi-Wan thought, gripping his lightsaber, but the very presence of it scared him more than he wanted to admit.
Qui-Gon felt a blast of warmer air as he stepped out into the corridor, shaking like a baby learning to walk. The stone corridors were dimly-lit, signalling that nightwatch was on. The drunken laughter of the guards was faintly heard, followed by a curse and the sound of glass shattering.
Qui-Gon stood, listening, waiting, then slumped against the wall. One hand went to his side and touched an injury, and he winced and quickly drew away. The Jedi Master slowly closed his eyes and breathed deeply, calming his mind.
First order of business, he had to find his lightsaber. They were unlikely to stick it on a peg somewhere or let any of the guards play with it. Tathor knew full well what it was and how destructive it could be...
Qui-Gon's eyes flipped open. Well, he thought, it would probably be in his office. No point in wasting time over two errands when you can accomplish them both...
As he started down the corridor, a drunken, grinning Thalon staggered past him, against the wall, a bottle in one hand and his feathers rumpled. Qui-Gon's nostrils twitched at the sour smell of Tabalian beer.
The man stopped laughing and gaped at him. "You?" he gasped.
Qui-Gon casually waved one hand. This guard was so drunk, it took almost no effort. Good thing for me, he thought. "I'm still in my cell."
"You're still in your cell," the man repeated, his alcohol-fuzzed mind grasping.
"There's no need to call the others," Qui-Gon said, forcing his roughened voice down to something approaching soothing.
"There's no need..."
"You look tired," Qui-Gon said, tilting his head to one side. "Give me your blaster, and take a nap."
Wordlessly, the guard handed over his blaster and dropped to the floor like a rock, falling asleep on the way. Qui-Gon winced as the bottle struck the stone floor and shattered loudly. He glanced down the tunnel, ready to sprint... all right, to try to sprint, if anyone came.
But there were only jeers and more laughter. After a few minutes of semi-silence, Qui-Gon forced his aching body to relax, feeling his numbed shoulders twinge. They must think he simply fell, he thought with relief, stepping over the inebriated guard. Lucky for me. I don't feel like I could fight one of them, let alone ten ones, drunk or not.
He slowly set off through the corridor, his eyes gleaming in the dark.
Obi-Wan heard a shout and the sound of a blaster firing. He quickly rounded a turn and sprinted, his brown cloak billowing as he ran. Klaxons began to blare...
Please don't let me be too late...
Qui-Gon aimed the blaster at the dictator's office doors and fired a series of blasts, burning through the metal. He could sense Tathor's sudden surprise, rage and fear as the middle of the door melted to slag, oozing to the floor and billowing smoke. Qui-Gon held his breath and extended his hand, reaching out with the Force.
Inside the office, a horrified Tathor watched in astonishment as a drawer in his desk sprang open, shattering a large abstract sculpture nearby. The Jedi's lightsaber shot out of it, as if fired from a cannon, and flew straight through the hole in the door.
Tathor allowed himself a small smile as a batttered, bloody Qui-Gon Jinn stepped through the curtain of smoke, staring at him with something akin to loathing. Even if the Jedi killed him, he thought, at least he had the one small victory. Qui-Gon had succumbed to darkness.
A blaster bolt flashed past Obi-Wan's head, burning a hole through the wall next to his ear. Gasping, he shot back and touched the side of his head, where the faint odor of singed hair was coming from. More bolts ricocheted around the hallways, and Obi-Wan reached for his lightsaber.
"Cease fire!" a familiar, crackling voice called.
Obi-Wan almost passed out. He slowly crept around the corner, and almost bumped into a knee-high figure who blinked up at him. "Master Yoda?" he gasped.
Yoda nodded solemnly, and glanced back at a squad of armed Republic guards flanking him and Mace Windu, who held his lightsaber ignited and ready.
Qui-Gon's hands shook as he dropped the blaster and held his lightsaber at the ready. The insolent expression on Tathor's pale face was enough to make him itch to lunge forward, to slash this dictator in half and end this murderous coup.
Think of what he did to you. Think of all the pain and humiliation you endured. He did that to you.
Do it to him.
Qui-Gon stared at Tathor, his blue eyes seeming to cloud over with an unearthly sheen. The green blade shot from the end of Qui-Gon's lightsaber, humming almost eagerly... then retracted back into the cylinder.
What am I doing?
Qui-Gon felt a wave of horror and remorse wash over him, sweeping away the last vestiges of anger, hatred and veangeance. He felt himself begin to shake with the enormity of what he had been about to do.
No. He had a job to do. Recrimination would come later.
"Up against the wall," Qui-Gon growled, pointing at one transparisteel window. Tathor, looking both confused and alarmed, obeyed him. Qui-Gon clipped his lightsaber to the waistband of his pants and began to tear strips from the curtains, then bound the dictator's hands behind his back.
"Master?"
Obi-Wan's voice, full of relief and worry. Qui-Gon yanked Tathor from the wall and marched the Thalon to the door.
The sight of his apprentice was almost too much for Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan stood, lightsaber at the ready, looking hot and tense but delighted to see him again. Horror touched Qui-Gon's soul as he wondered, What would he think of me? I almost... I almost gave in...
Obi-Wan quickly grasped Tathor's bound arms and pulled them together as tightly as he could. As Qui-Gon released the captured Thalon, Obi-Wan's eyes went wide at the burns and cuts criss-crossing his Master's bruised chest. "Master, what-" he cried.
"I'll explain later," Qui-Gon said, trying to keep his voice neutral. He desperately wanted to curl up on the office floor and never get up, but he knew he had to see this out to the end.
"Master," Obi-Wan said, frog-marching the quite reluctant Tathor out the door. The young man pulled his lightsaber up and casually flicked the blade on, then off. Tathor glanced back fearfully, then began to walk faster. "Republic troops are trying to stop the Thalon military, but so far there's been little success."
As if on cue, the building rocked slightly with a faint boom. Plaster rained down behind the two Jedi as the ceiling cracked and crumbled. "Master Yoda and Master Windu are here," Obi-Wan added, shoving Tathor on.
Any other time, this would have been a source of relief for Qui-Gon. But shame was burning within him like a forest fire, making him want to run.
The last person he wanted to see now was Yoda... "I see," he rasped, licking his dry lips.
Obi-Wan glanced at him critically. "You need help," he said quietly.
"I'm fine," Qui-Gon replied, trying to keep his steps steady. The corridor was beginning to tilt back and forth in a most disturbing manner.
"No, you're not. You're going all white, and you're wavering from side to side."
"I'm fine," Qui-Gon insisted, crossing his arms across his chest and hunching his bruised shoulders. Obi-Wan recognized the look, and said no more. But his concern continued...
As the shuttlebay doors opened, Qui-Gon almost fell backwards at the firestorm going on. The Thalon soldiers were hidden behind a huge freighter, firing at Republic troops hidden behind fighters. Blaster bolts slashed through the hulls of all the ships, sometimes ricocheting and hitting one of the men.
Obi-Wan shoved Tathor forward into the bay and ignited his lightsaber. The sudden steady hum of the energy blade rose above the frenzied shrieks of the guns, and several Thalon gasped and stared at their captive leader, now glaring at Qui-Gon with eyes filled with hate.
"Throw down your weapons," Qui-Gon ordered, meeting and matching Tathor's gaze. The dictator's lip curled as the clatter of weapons striking the floor reached him. "Contact your compatriots and order them to surrender. We have your leader captive."
As the Republic soldiers stepped out and flanked Tathor, blasters aimed, two robes figures emerged from behind one fighter. The taller of the two, holding a now-deactivated lightsaber in one hand, pulled back his hood of his robe, revealing the serene dark features of Mace Windu. "Qui-Gon?" he asked, astonished. "What happened?"
Qui-Gon realized that he was shaking, from exhaustion both physical and emotional. As he stumbled to his knees, Windu dropped next to him and grasped his shoulders. He felt Obi-Wan's smaller hands on his arm. "Master, are you all right?" he asked, his voice seeming distant.
Qui-Gon only shook his head, unable to speak, feeling like he was going to die on the spot. Obi-Wan slipped an arm under Qui-Gon's, helping his master to stand.
A day later, Qui-Gon lay in the sickbay of the Republic transport, heading back to Coruscant. He shifted a little, the stiff bandages still bound around his torso and shoulders, where most of the injuries were.
The military forces had crumbled quickly after Tathor's arrest, and he was in the lower hold of the cruiser, bound for the Republic's courts for trial.
Qui-Gon sighed and rolled over, pulling the thin medical blanket to his chin. Obi-Wan was sitting at his bedside, had been ever since Qui-Gon had arrived. His young face was marred by concern and compassion, as he finished telling his master, "So, Master Yoda found out that he had sent me into a war zone, and quickly got the chancellor to send reinforcements to stop the civil war."
Qui-Gon allowed a small smile to touch his face. "You did well, Obi-Wan. I'm proud of you." But, he wondered, do you know what I almost did?
"Master, I..." Obi-Wan started, then stopped. "Master... I saw you almost kill Tathor."
Qui-Gon froze, a thousand emotions crowding across his mind. He kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling, studying it as if it were of great importance. "Did you?" he asked hoarsely.
"Yes," Obi-Wan replied quietly. "You were tempted by the dark side... weren't you?"
It took almost a full minute before Qui-Gon could force the words from his lips. "Yes. I was."
Compassion seemed to flow from the young apprentice as he put a comforting hand on his master's bandaged arm. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Master," he said quietly. "Tathor tried to turn you to darkness, to the dark side-"
"And almost succeeded," Qui-Gon interjected morbidly.
"Almost," Obi-Wan conceded. "But he didn't succeed. He didn't turn you, because you knew what would be killing for necessity and what would be killing for revenge. He hurt you, but you didn't hurt him back."
His words were halting, the words of a boy not yet trained in how to express himself best. For a moment, he was terrified that they would not be enough. But Qui-Gon slowly turned his head to look at his apprentice, a small smile crossing his tired face. "Thank you, Padawan," he said quietly. The sudden lack of tension in his body and face showed that he no longer felt the guilt and pain.
Obi-Wan gave him a final pat on the arm, then rose from his chair, stiffly. "The healers say you should rest," he said quietly. "You..."
His voice trailed away as he saw that Qui-Gon was already asleep, the same serene smile still touching his face. Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing at his eyes, then slowly walked out of the room. "Good night, Master," he said quietly as he turned out the lights.