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.
The Jedi Temple looms over you, towering to the sky from the landing pad at its majestic feet. Long ago, a decree was passed that no other building on Coruscant would ever rise above its spires. To this day, no other building has even remotely dared.
You step from the small transport, holding Qui-Gon’s hand as he offers it in gracious support. Upon alighting to the ground, you lean your head back and peer almost straight upwards into the reaches of heaven. The Temple is a mound of blacks, browns, chrome and glass. It seems to have been grown, not built…each little spire, each little nook and cranny screams of intricate planning and infinite strength. The main part of the building extends upwards to the height of the Senate building and then shoots up in four equal and proud steeples. The center structure continues up as a thin neck, slightly arched until it reaches a slight bulb at the top. The browns are broken occasionally by the green of a garden, its plant life filling and streaming a little over the designated area.
“It is beautiful, isn’t it, love?” Qui-Gon asks, pulling you along side and slipping you into a nook created by his one arm while the other still holds your hand.
“Breathtaking,” you sigh, turning your gaze to look at your lover. “This is where you have spent your entire life when you are not with me? Here? In this wonder?”
His nod is followed by his eyes turning to his home. Far above, the traffic lanes of ships form a wide square around the steeples, hence decreasing the white noise from ship engines. The resounding quiet is awe-inspiring.
“Enter we should. Come. Come.” Yoda moves off, leading the small party into the opening of the Temple. You enter in through the first door. It is a massive, intricately decorated and looming presence, the Jedi Crest embossed on its surface. Visitors are allowed here unattended and several mill about. Mace walks on one side of and Qui-Gon the other; the latter’s hand firmly encasing your own. His hand tightens as they approach a bank of lifts. It is here that Qui-Gon, as he told you on the journey, will have to vouch for you and claim you as his guest. He also told you that you are the first to hold such a title with him.
Mace steps forward and keys in not only his, but Yoda’s codes as well. The blinking of the light states that they have been accepted. Qui-Gon next steps to the keyboard and hits his code and follows it with a two-letter code. Mace offers his hand to move you forward and Qui-Gon shows you to enter his code followed by the additional two letters. You gasp as the readout shows that you would even be allowed in the Council Chamber if asked to do so.
“There you have it,” Mace chuckles lowly, “you can take over the Temple now.”
Qui-Gon smiles tightly in return and offers his arm to you as the lift arrives from above level. As the door slides open, you see that it is a lift that allows the rider to see around him or herself during the travel. Qui-Gon leads you to the back of the lift and presses the button for the living quarter area.
Mace Windu leans close to you, the rustling of his cloak loud in the enclosed space. “On the way up, you will see the initiate training area, the crèche play area, the South Gardens and the Memorial Gardens…”
Qui-Gon continues, not to be outdone by his friend, and you smile at the boyish effort. “You will see the Senate building off to the east, and beyond that, the Senate housings for diplomats.”
Yoda frowns, and you glance at the Jedi Master. The two humanoids next to you eagerly wait to show you the beauties of their home. But Yoda, honed by nearly a millennia of life, waits quietly. As he is aware of your stare, he asks, “What feel you here, young woman?”
Without thought, based solely on your instincts, you answer, “Peace, tranquillity…. it is so poignant that I can taste it….like a smell that permeates the air. And…acceptance.”
Yoda nods, as the two men next to you grow still. “Picked one sensitive to you, Qui-Gon, you have. Not Force sensitive, but sensitive to life, she is. Perfect for you, she will be.”
“I know, my Master. Since our childhood, and the other times we met, I have noticed it in her. It is one of the reasons that I love her as I do.”
Conversation is broken off as the lift rockets above the interior confinement in which it had been traveling. The sight is breathtaking.
The sunrise has petered to a dull gray blue. But the buildings sparkle under the powerful star’s rays as it sails across the sky. Ships still move far above, but you can see now that they are careful of the no fly zone around the Temple proper. As you look immediately down, you see a garden. The occasional bloom and brown cloak break its greens and various hues as Jedi wander in its confines. The lift climbs further and you see a large area, almost similar to the arenas on Alderaan. It is full of young Jedi, their cream tunics fresh and crisp against the darker hues around them.
“Do you remember my training tunic?” Qui-Gon’s deep voice rumbles in your ear as his warm breath tickles your cheek.
A small smile crosses your face. “It was never that clean, I’m afraid.”
The next level that is open to the air breaks your heart and you find your hands pressing against the window.
It is the crèche play area.
Young children, dressed in tunics or robes, run around, chasing or being chased. Several brown cloaks of Padawans or the deeper brown of Knights can be seen standing or chasing the children. If the glass was not present, you are sure that the air would be filled with their laughter. Your eyes almost tear as you see babe after babe with light brown, golden hair.
“Love?”
You gulp, swinging your eyes around to meet his. “They are so young…”
“But exceedingly well taken care of…” Qui-Gon answers, frowning a little at your reaction.
“Separated…”
“The Jedi are their family until they are of an age to understand their talents and control them.” Mace adds, leaning close to you on the other side. “We care for and love every one of them.”
You close your eyes, laying your hand on the glass as you rocket upwards. “But separated from a mother or a father…?”
Qui-Gon places his arm around your shoulders, a quietness to him that stands out even in his usual calm demeanor. “A Jedi’s life is never easy…never…dearheart. It starts from birth. Our children will have to face the tests themselves. But to have one child, strong in the Force, left untrained, left without realizing their full potential…it would be dangerous for them as well as those around them…”
“I understand..” you whisper back as the lift begins to slow in its climb. And you understand more than your lover can ever realize.
The lift stops and you turn to the door. It swings open with a slight change in air pressure and you press forward, being led by Qui-Gon’s hand on your back. You can feel every one of his fingers, pressing, owning as you step into the carpeted hall.
The first thing that strikes you is the absolute absence of sound. The carpet muffles the sounds of life, but even without the plushness on the ground, you are sure there would be no sound. Behind you, Yoda’s stick hits the floor of the lift and you and Qui-Gon turn to look at the occupants.
“Bring her to the Council chambers, you will, Padawan. Have her eat with us, we shall.”
“Yes, my Master,” Qui-Gon intones, bending a little at his waist. The bow is respectful but proud, much like the man himself. The doors have slid shut on Mace and Yoda before he has righted himself and he smiles at you.
“You, my love,” he emphasizes and turns down the hall, his hand on your elbow. “You have made an impression, I’m afraid….my Master is taken with you.”
“I have known him since I first met you, Qui-Gon,” you state, relaxing into a stride to equal his. He leads you along the hall, which has a bank of tall windows on one side and a wall on the other. He stops in front of the third door and keys it open with his code. The door slides back and he bows slightly. “Please enter, dearheart.”
You stick your head in the room, and your body follows it quickly. The room is warmer than the hall – the sun shining in the room through a wall of windows. The carpeting from the hall continues into the main room. Its deep red contrasts with the pale furniture, which is sparsely arranged. Three rooms break off the main room, if the three doors are indicative of the existence of other rooms.
One corner of the room holds a variety of plants arranged on a little shelf. Their green leaves drift down to the ground, their vines entwining and twisting. You move a little closer to it, drawn to an aroma that you have not smelled since you left your cottage. A sole miniature Alderaanian rose bush sits on the top shelf, and droops toward the chair next to the windows. You smile as you reach out to touch the small delicate flower.
“I had to have something to remember you by here,” he states and places his hands on your waist. His chin brushes your crown and he points with his gaze to a stillholo behind the leaves. It is the one of you and he on his Knighting Day. You had just seriously started to love this man at that time, and the gleam that you see in both your eyes clearly shows it.
Another spicy aroma alerts your senses and you turn slightly to look into the room immediately to your right. It is the smell of earth and heavy spice mixed together and you move to step into the small enclosure. The room is a half moon in shape - the far wall curves gently coming to a point. A medium size sleeping area dominates the room. It is a sunken pit, filled with pillows of various sizes and colors. A hint of a soft cushion is seen below the gathered softness. Plants line the upper regions of the window on shelves not quite straight. A small collection of books surrounds a bent Ulgarian light.
“This is your den of iniquity, Qui-Gon?” you ask, moving into the room further.
“I actually cleaned in here for you,” he answers with a slight chuckle. You join in knowing of his habits at the cottage- any place on the floor is fair game for his clothing. You turn to look at him. His smile falters a little as his hand comes up to stroke your cheek. It is such a feather light touch from such a giant of a man. “You are upset by something – what is it?”
You turn away and walk to the bed. There is an aching in your heart to beg to go to the creche, to tell Qui-Gon of the birth of his son, to tell him of your lies. But your tongue remains silent. To join him in a bond and remain a teacher separate to allow him his life is one thing, to be the mother of his child showing a desperate need to have both the father and the son with you is quite another. As this man said earlier, Jedi children are moved to the Temple for their own good. But what of his own child? Would he say the same thing if he knew of the existence of his own flesh and blood? Would he remain separate from it? Would he feel the same ache in his bones to hold his child, as you do every morning? Your eyes meet his wide blue ones and you smile gently.
“Nothing is wrong,” you lie. “Nothing except the distance that you and I will have to keep here…”
Qui-Gon moves quickly, his feet barely hitting the ground beneath him. His arms slide around you as he presses you to his powerful chest. As his cloak settles in its lines, it shrouds you in material and scent, protecting you.
“My time is my own right now, love. My quarters are my own…I have no Padawan as Tira has been knighted. If I wish to spend time with you, making love, or walking in the gardens, then I can do so. How else am I to convince you that bonding with me is our combined destiny if I were to keep distance from you? Besides, we have one standard hour until the evening meal with the Council…”
“One hour?” you joke, your mouth moving in the folds of his tunic. “What can we do for one hour?”
His chuckle punches the air, before your mouth is pulled away from his chest and your lips are encased in his warm heavy ones.