Author's Notes: This is a one-off that insisted on being written. Master Yoda has to break the news to an old friend. Looks a little bit at Qui-Gon's place in his own world. Won't interfere with anyone's denial process, though.
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.
Finis Valorum was packing the last of his personal belongings from the Supreme Chancellor's office, preparing to move into a simple Senator's chambers. He had paused, and turned to look out on the cityscape of Coruscant, shimmering and glowing as lights came on against the blue as his region rolled into the planet's night. It was a view he would miss.
"Unexpected this is," said a voice.
He turned. Yoda, one of the two Jedi Councillors he had dealt with most often, was there. Automatically, he made a will-you-sit gesture, but it was declined.
"Unexpected, even for you?" he asked curiously. For all his years in government service, he still never knew how much the Jedi knew or could foresee at any given time.
Councillor Yoda's ears changed angles; Valorum surmised they were indicating thoughtfulness. He didn't really need to know, because he had the gift of faith.
It was a conundrum that had faced every Force-blind leader in the Republic for thousands of years. You either were able to trust the Jedi, or you weren't. Most Supreme Chancellors had; the few who could not shut them out of Republic counsels, and, usually, the Republic suffered for it during their years in office.
Throughout his tenure, Valorum had been among the Supreme Chancellors who trusted the Jedi implicitly. He drew on them even as diplomats, an extension of their role as Guardians of the Peace that some did not relish.
Still, they had accepted his expansion of their role, within their Code, just as calmly as in the past they had accepted exclusion. Historically, the Jedi Order had merely waited out the periods when a Chancellor froze them out; it was utterly against its code to seek power.
Once or twice there had been dissenters who acted on their own initiative, yet even those renegade Knights were usually seeking to take power for the good of others, not themselves. The Jedi themselves had always opposed and toppled such efforts. The transgressor was generally brought back into the Order, but occasionally destroyed. And then the Jedi went back to waiting, staying out of great affairs until the Republic summoned them.
This patience had something to do with the Dark Side, Valorum knew. Whatever that was.
"A surprise, yes," Councillor Yoda finally said. "Foreseen Amidala's ploy was not. Events hurry now." The Jedi waved his cane. "Dangerous is haste, in politics as all other things. To the Dark Side it may lead."
Valorum smiled. Did the Jedi hear his thoughts? Who knew?
"Councillor, you know perfectly well that I haven't the smallest flicker of Force sensitivity. If the Dark Side comes and camps in my front office, you'll have to tell the rest of us. Though," he sighed, "personally I think the Dark Side is running the bureaucracy."
He raised a hand to forestall the Jedi's reply. "I know, I know, the bureaucrats manage to be stupefyingly obstructive and prevent any real action without any mystical help. It just depresses me to have to believe that. Allow an old politico one little folly, won't you?"
"Old you are not," the Jedi said softly.
The human looked at Yoda. "Old I am, my friend," he answered equally softly. "Soon there will be another generation of Senators and potential Chancellors for you to counsel." He paused. If the Councillor was going to venture a personal remark, just this once, he would too.
"So few of your people travel off your homeworld -- in all my years, I've only met you, Councillor Yaddle, and Senator Yaddo. I've often wondered if it simply isn't too sad for you to lose friends so rapidly -- you live, what, twenty or thirty of our generations?"
Though there was no known reason, the vast majority of the Republic's sentient life forms had roughly similar lifFinisns, humans among them. Races whose lives spanned the centuries, like Yoda's or the Hutt, were very uncommon. Valorum knew Councillor Yoda was well over 700, maybe already 800 years old; he had faithfully served, then buried, many Supreme Chancellors.
Yoda blinked and his ears drifted downward. Valorum blanched; this was not a good sign.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I sincerely--" It was the beginning of a standard, all purpose, intercultural apology -- 'I sincerely beg your pardon if I transgressed' -- that was meant to cover everything from a faux pas to an inadvertent capital offense. Councillor Yoda stopped him, though, with a raised hand.
"Not that," said the Jedi. "But touch upon the reason I am here, you did."
Valorum raised his eyebrows. Yoda continued almost reluctantly. "From Naboo we have heard."
Valorum started to shake his head. "You should tell Palpatine--" but the Jedi cut him off.
"Killed was Master Jinn," he finished.
Finis Valorum's face froze. "Oh damn," he said involuntarily. "Damn." He moved out from behind his desk, and dropped onto a visitor's couch heavily, his head in his hands. "Damn. Qui-Gon. Damn."
He heard Councillor Yoda moving closer to him, and looked up. "Thirty years. I've known him thirty years." He stared into the Jedi Master's huge grey-green eyes. "I've never trusted another man like that, not anyone." Tears started, and he dropped his head into his hands again. "Damn."
"Fifty-five years have I known Qui-Gon Jinn," Councillor Yoda said. His voice was gentle, but not freighted with emotion. "My Padawan he was," he added. "The last."
Finis Valorum's head came up again. Tranquil or not, Councillor Yoda was grieving, that was why he was here.
"I forgot," he said. "I'm so sorry, Councillor." He groped for words, as mourners always do. "He was a great Jedi."
"Aaah!" Yoda scoffed, with sudden vigor. "Great Jedi! Greater would he have been, did he not run so fast!"
Valorum frowned. This was metaphorical Force-talk, he knew. Exactly what it meant, he had no idea, but clearly he'd hit a sensitive spot. Still, he wasn't going to yield the point.
"I only meant he helped the Republic many times, and in many ways," he said quietly. "That is greatness. Anywhere we sent him, a mighty effort to establish justice would follow. I relied on that, and so did my predecessors as Supreme Chancellor. His name is respected all over the galaxy, even revered. The Jedi were lucky to have such a man among them."
Finis Valorum expected a blast-- the Jedi Yoda had been famous throughout the government for centuries for his lectures beginning, "What know you of---"
In fact, 'doing a good Yoda' was practically a job qualification for junior ministers. Valorum had perfected his early in his long climb to Supreme Chancellor. And this time he had stuck his foot right into the heart of Yoda's bailiwick -- judging a Jedi.
But there was only silence, as the two beings, one sitting, one standing, looked into each other's eyes. Valorum's heart twinged.
"Aren't you going to rip my head off, Councillor?" he said gently. "That was your cue to say, what know you of Jedi? And I would have to say, nothing." But Yoda didn't answer. Instead, the Jedi's eyes shifted away from him, looking out the transparent walls in the direction of the Temple.
Velorum continued, "The truth is, I don't know a damn thing about Jedi. I can't even say for sure that I knew a damn thing about Qui-Gon. But I do know it made my heart lighten every time he walked in that door."
"Powerful Jedi was Qui-Gon," Yoda agreed. His voice was barely more than a whisper.
"I think he was a good man," Valorum said. He smiled. "Do you know, he never once told me 'no'? He just shaved a few inches off his bow -- that was his way of saying, 'By the Force, that's a really stupid move, Finis.' Then he'd go and do his best to make it happen anyway." Valorum's smile broadened. "And if it happened in a slightly different way than what I envisioned, well, that was part of Qui-Gon's greatness, too."
Councillor Yoda's ears moved in response, but his focus seemed to be elsewhere. //Just letting me ramble and work it through,// Valorum supposed. //There's that odd kindness wrapped inside all their power.// He didn't see it often; consultation on affairs of state had little room or time for deep personal interactions. But he and Qui-Gon had gone on to forge a personal bond over the years.
"He brought me things occasionally," Valorum said. "A Mandolorian lute, once. I never had the slightest idea what he meant by it." Valorum stroked his beard. "Well, maybe the slightest idea."
When Jinn was on Coruscant, Valorum had often invited him to be among the ceremonial guests at various Republic formalities. Qui-Gon sometimes came -- most predictably to concerts, Valorum had noticed. Typical of Qui-Gon to prefer an art form that precluded talking, he thought -- but as his years in government service went on, Valorum had come to share Jinn's preference. Anything that could shut up a pack of quarreling ministers for three hours at a clip was to be sought out and savored.
The lute had probably been Qui-Gon's way of saying, 'I know.'
And unlike nearly everyone else Finis Valorum had met through his official life, Qui-Gon Jinn had never wanted anything. //Well, except that one time,// he thought.
His eyes veered quickly to Councillor Yoda, who was still apparently contemplating the view. But you never knew with Jedi, and this was a thought that Velorum did not want read. He would keep Qui-Gon's confidence to the grave and after.
"Councillor, I thank you for bringing me this news personally," he said. There were few better ways to hide thought than with off-the-point words, however courteous and sincere they were in themselves. Yoda continued to look out the window.
Velorum was puzzled. Was there something more? What could be worse, what could the old Jedi still have been holding back? Or was this how he grieved? "Master Yoda," he said, using the title Qui-Gon would have addressed him by.
The Jedi's eyes shifted to him. An old memory surfaced, of Jinn saying how he had searched those eyes for approval as a young boy.
"On my homeworld, we have a tradition of drinking a salute to ... lost friends," he said. "Would you join me?"
"Spiritous waters my people drink not," Yoda said. It was a standard, polite way of saying no, by suggesting a digestive system incompatible with the proffered delicacy. Valorum himself had used it on occasion, because some of the delicacies offered on Republic worlds could get pretty indelicate.
But Finis Valorum, a hard-drinking adolescent who had grown up to travel as many of the Republic's worlds as anyone living, had never, ever heard of a race that didn't drink something.
A reckless mood took him over. "Councillor Yoda, I think you could metabolize bantha piss if you needed to. Join me, please."
//Good thing I'm already an ex-Chancellor,// Finis reflected in the next instant.
Yoda's eyes flared wide and his ears climbed high at the liberty -- the first Valorum had ever taken, and as far as Valorum knew, the first anyone had ever taken with his dignity. But seconds ticked past, and the Jedi Master's expression softened slightly.
"Enjoy it I would not," the Jedi said severely.
A relieved sound broke out of Valorum. "So Jedi discipline does have a limit," he said. He got up and went to the case he'd been packing when Yoda arrived. He pulled out a flask. "Tarkan whiskey -- Qui-Gon liked this stuff, or least he let me think he did."
It occurred to him to look for glasses -- well, there were ceremonial cups belonging to the office on display. Let Palpatine wash them.
He pulled two down, remembering the last time he'd done this for Qui-Gon. Actually, there'd been three of them then...
"What about his learner -- Obi-Wan?" Valorum was ashamed for not asking earlier. As little as he knew of Jedi ways, it was clear to him that Obi-Wan Kenobi had saved Qui-Gon's heart in some mysterious way.
"Survived the battle, he did," said Yoda. "Triumphed over the one who slew Qui-Gon."
Valorum exhaled. "That's good," he said. "That's the only mercy." He shook his head. "Qui-Gon would not have wanted it the other way round." He handed a cup of whiskey to the Councillor.
"Salute, Qui-Gon Jinn," he said formally, lifting his own cup high. Yoda did the same. "We will not forget you." He drank the liquor in a gulp, while Yoda took a careful taste, then another, rather larger one.
Valorum looked at Councillor Yoda for a moment, then turned to look at the city again -- toward the Jedi Temple where Qui-Gon had grown up, the only home he'd had in his life. "That boy Obi-Wan was the best luck Jinn ever had," he said softly. "And don't tell me a Jedi knows not luck."
Yoda snorted. "If know it you do, foolish would I be to waste the lesson on you a second time."
Valorum shook his head. "Councillor, I truly believe that one way or another, we all know luck."
Finis Valorum could remember seeing the boy Xanatos trotting at his Master's heels, though Valorum had been only a junior minister in those days. A decade later, Xanatos disappeared in the wake of a civil war on his homeworld -- a war that he had started, and the Jedi master had ended. Valorum was now a senior minister, and had been privy to the entire shock and horror of the story as the Jedi reported it.
Also, by then, Finis had known Qui-Gon Jinn well enough to tell the difference between Jinn's natural serene quietude and the enforced silence of misery. The man had been suffering, no matter how many layers of Jedi discipline he piled on top of it.
It was in the years following the betrayal that Jinn had come to his full greatness as a Jedi, travelling almost constantly, failing of his mission almost never. All through those years, he had seemed fierce, austere and solitary. When on Coruscant, he still joined Valorum for their habitual walks and dinners and concerts, though he had talked even less than before.
Valorum's children were young in those years; it had been a sweet period in his life, with his family growing up healthy and happy, the last few years before he assumed the burdens of a Supreme Chancellor. Finis had made a point of bringing Qui-Gon into contact with the children, once he noticed that his friend seemed able to unbend a bit when in their company.
And almost only then. Qui-Gon had told him occasionally of the Council's wish that he come to the Temple to seek a new Padawan, but he had always journeyed away alone. It saddened Valorum that a man who enjoyed children so much felt constrained to refuse this responsibility, but there was no mistaking the pain that surrounded the issue.
Finis had asked him once, "They can't force you to take a new learner, can they?"
Qui-Gon's answer had been typically brief and mysterious. "Not yet."
Rejecting the hint to let it go, Finis had ventured a guess. "If you were threatened with the Dark Side...?" Qui Gon had looked at him with what seemed like astonishment.
"Yes," he said.
All these years later, the astonishment still astonished Valorum. //Did he think I didn't care? Did he imagine no one else could see his pain?// But it was after that that Qui-Gon had made his one personal request, and Valorum had risked his career and his life to honor it. But afterwards, Jinn had gone his way as before, whatever demons bothered him only slightly soothed by the mission.
Then, maybe two years later, along came Obi-Wan Kenobi, the potential Jedi washout, and the trip to Bandomeer. Finis Valorum had already believed, along with Jinn, that the Force sometimes required specific actions of specific people -- but if he hadn't, he would have believed it after that.
He'd never really gotten to know the boy, but liked him enormously just for his effect on Jinn. Whenever they met, either after missions or when Jinn came to the Valorum household for a family supper, Qui-Gon's pride in the boy shone like a lamp.
And there was no question that Qui-Gon was being a very tough Master, even by Jedi standards. Clearly, Jinn was still worried that love had been a weakness of his that had led to Xanatos' failure. But years went by and turned into a decade, and Obi-Wan Kenobi not only grew in stature as a Jedi, but restored his own Master's ability to trust. Somehow, maybe by dint of sheer tenacity, the Padawan erased or healed his Master's lingering pain and self-doubt over the earlier apprentice.
Had Qui-Gon ever completely escaped that ghost? Valorum would never know. The life was ended -- at least, unless the legend about Jedi was true, and they spoke to each other even after death. Even if it were true, though, the Force-blind ex-Chancellor could not hope to see his friend again.
And it was time to go. Valorum turned, settled the flask back in his case, closed the carrier's latch, and picked it up.
"Master Yoda, thank you for this visit," he said, his voice much more personal than formal.
Yoda nodded. "A good friend you were," he said, and nodded again. "Fortunate... lucky... was Qui-Gon to have this friend."
"You do me honor, Councillor," Valorum said. A question tugged at his mind, and he wondered if he dared to ask it. "Councillor, did..." his voice trailed off.
Yoda looked at him, his brows raised with inquiry.
"Was Qui-Gon ever truly in danger from the Dark Side?" he said quickly. Even as he said it, Valorum thought that he probably had no idea what he was really asking.
Yoda studied Velorum's face, his own expression completely unreadable.
"Not yet," he said.