Author's Notes: This is an AU story, inspired by Kayla's Plot Bunny Challenge.
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 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.
"Good morning, Master Qui... Gon...." The padawan's salutation ground to a halt when he saw the condition of the Jedi Master. Something in the older man's gaze warned him not to say anything, though, and the young Rodian hurried off on his way.
Qui-Gon Jinn collected a breakfast tray in the meal hall, and seated himself-- carefully-- at a table with several other masters. Mace Windu, in the seat beside him, lifted an eyebrow. The other masters waited; Windu would certainly ask what had happened to his friend, thereby satisfying everyone's curiosity.
"Good morning, Qui-Gon. Don't you usually eat in your quarters?"
"Yes."
"That's quite a bruise," Windu said, sipping his tea.
"Yes," Qui-Gon agreed.
"Did something happen?"
"Yes."
"Should I mind my own business?
"Yes."
Repressing a smile, Windu returned to his breakfast. The annoyingly calm, even-tempered Jinn was not looking his best. His long hair, usually neatly combed and bound back, was snarled and matted on the left side. A vivid bruise stood out on his right cheekbone. And a large patch was missing from his beard. The temptation to ask was strong; but Mace Windu had not risen to Master status by risking his life indiscriminately.
Master Yan-L-yan seated itself across from Jinn, and lifted a dorsal ridge in enquiry. "You have quite a bad bruise. Does it hurt?"
"Yes."
"Did you walk into something?"
Before he could reply, they were interrupted. All the masters set down their utensils, as Master Yoda approached. "Master Qui-Gon, teach the beginner's class in Philsophy, you must. Ill, the regular instructor is."
"Yes, my master."
"Master Qui-Gon?"
"Yes, my master?"
"Bad bruise, that is."
"Yes, my master."
"More careful, you should be."
"Yes, my master."
"Good morning, Masters."
"Good morning, Master Yoda," came the replies, as the Jedi Master left.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and sighed. It was going to be an even longer day than he'd feared.
When he opened the door to the classroom, a wall of noise nearly drove him out again, and the sheer energy of the more than forty children was already starting to make his head ache with the effort of shielding. Not one of them was sitting still, and most of them were standing by the long bank of windows, watching the passing airships. Many of them had small bags of juice, and not all of them were very careful with them, as a wet spot or two on the tile floor showed.
A small Svivren student saw him first, and within minutes, the noisy, chaotic group of children were seated and silent. Forty sets of eyes were fixed on him; forty sets of ears ready to listen.
"Good morning, students."
"Good morning, Master Qui-Gon," they replied, in chorus, eagerly.
He gazed out the window for a moment, as if to collect his thoughts, timing it. Almost to himself, he said, "What is the Jedi Code?"
As one, the class recited: "There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no death, there is the force."
"What does that mean, Master Qui-Gon?" asked a young human boy, sitting in the front row. Qui-Gon didn't recognise him; but he had been gone for some months.
"Which part...?" Qui-Gon asked, waiting for the boy to supply his name.
The boy blushed slightly, and stood, and bowed. "Obi-Wan Kenobi, sir. All of it, sir."
"What does it mean to you, Obi-Wan?"
The boy blushed more strongly, now, on the spot. Qui-Gon sensed waves of sympathy coming from some of the other students.
"We... we shouldn't let our emotions control us. But we shouldn't be afraid of them, either. We shouldn't let what-- what we don't know make us feel bad, and we should try to learn. We shouldn't... uh... be afraid of death, because we just go back to the Force."
"Very good."
The boy smiled.
"But what does it mean to you, Obi-Wan Kenobi?"
The boy blushed yet again, even more brightly. Qui-Gon turned his attention to the class as a whole, slowly pacing in front of them as he spoke. "All of you must learn more than the Code. You must learn what it is to you-- what it truly means to you, in your heart, in your soul. The Code of the Jedi is more than words and tradition. It is the defining purpose of our lives."
The eyes of the children followed him, intently, fascinated by the Master, who was known to all of them by sight and by story. The great Qui-Gon Jinn, finest swordsman of the Jedi, trained by Master Yoda himself, defender of the innocent, scourge of the wrong-doer...
...sprawling on his back, staring at the ceiling.
"Are you all right, Master Qui-Gon?" asked the timid voice of one of the Shistavanen.
"Yes, young student." Slowly, he sat up. His downfall, he was unsurprised to see, had been one of the puddles of juice. All around him, he sensed young minds, wanting very, very much to laugh, but too polite to actually do it.
Gathering his dignity, he stood with one smooth, flowing movement that silenced even the mental giggling, replacing it with awe.
The remainder of the class went fairly smoothly, he thought. Sure, he'd caught a fold of his robe on a desk, and nearly toppled it and its occupant; and walked into the edge of the instructor's desk and added another bruise to his collection; but all things considered, it could have been worse. He resisted the urge to rub his posterior, where no doubt an even more impressive bruise had formed.
And worst of all-- Force help him-- it wasn't even noon, yet....