Archive: Yes-- Master_Apprentice, anywhere else, just ask.
Series/Sequel: Fallen Knight
Category: Series: Fallen Knight, Drama, First
Times(eventually!)
Disclaimer: Do you know how may times I've prayed to own them?
It hasn't happened yet. :-( Maybe for Christmas.... In the
meantime, don't sue me, 'kay?
Notes: This is part once of a series. It is pretty angsty, so
beware! There is no sex in this story, even though it is much
more than likely in future stories. This is my first piece in
this Universe, so if I have gotten anything wrong, please don't
hesitate to tell me! I am a very young Padawan when it comes to
the rules of this galaxy. I welcome feedback gratefully-- it's
what keeps me writing! And there were no betas abused in the
making of this story, so all mistakes are mine. Feedback at
goldenoracle@hotmail.com please.
Summary: What happens to a strong man when there's nothing left
worth fighting for?
Warnings: violence, m/m, angst
The darkness slowly began to recede from his vision, and
Qui-Gon bit his tongue in an attempt to keep his groan from
being audible. His arms were twisted out behind him, held by
cold steel, and the fire that raced up his body was sharp and
intense. Do not think on it, he warned himself sternly,
his mind swimming out from the haze of pain and fear. You
must not think on it.
//What mustn't you think on, Qui-Gon?//
The voice was agony given sound, nails raking down the eternal
chalkboard of the mind. Qui-Gon shifted on the cold stone
floor, his face forced into stony impassivity. He would
not allow this... this monster to know that he
was in pain. Strands of dirty, stringy brown-gray hair
blanketed the sides of his face, allowing him the bare minimum
of the privacy he needed to compose his features into a
semblance of calm. There was nothing he could do about his
heart, though-- that was too swept away with tumultuous
emotions to be yet under his control.
The sharp click of boot heels against stone made his body tense
by reflex, but he automatically made himself relax, not wanting
to give in. He could never give in.
The other man stood above him, staring down at the pathetic
form of the Jedi Master. His thin lips quirked into a smile as
he noted the forced tensing and loosening of the muscles that
played along the naked man's shoulders and back. At first, he
had felt nothing but fury when his apprentice had be destroyed,
the blackness within him wanting nothing more than to strike
back at Kenobi and taste his screams. But something inside of
him had cautioned him to wait, to keep to the shadows, and to
watch for an opportunity to strike. It had been simple to
convince the agitated boy that Qui-Gon had died, yet it was
pure, force-guided luck when Kenobi had been made to rest
before the 'funeral' of his Master, leaving the preparations in
the simple-minded hands of the servants. And they were oh so
susceptible to suggestion...
At that moment, a plan had formed. It would take time and much
patience, but Palpatine was nothing if not patient-- he could
wait and watch as Obi-Wan mourned his lost Master and,
faltingly, began to move on, training the young boy in the ways
of the Jedi. But a time would come. It would come.
Qui-Gon moved again, so slightly that any other man may have
written it off as a trick of the light, but Palpatine was no
ordinary man, and he could feel the desperate weakness that was
spilling through the man. His body craved food and thirsted
beyond what many could bear, and though Qui-Gon strove to
remain impassive, it would not last much longer. He wouldn't be
broken, not yet, but he would falter. Qui-Gon, staunch Jedi
Master, would soon enough learn what it was to fear and hate.
And then he would be his.
Palpatine stood for one moment longer over the filthy form of
his slowly starving captive, basking in the waves of
frustration that radiated from a man who could no longer feel
the Force. All was well. He turned on his heel and walked away,
his boot heels clicking on the cold stone floor. A few days
still, and then he would begin the breaking in earnest.
Obi-Wan Kenobi would regret the day he had foiled the Sith's
plans.
And Qui-Gon would pay his Padawan's debt with his own soul.
"But why, Master?" Anikan looked up sulkily, a small line
forming between his blond brows. "It doesn't make any sense!"
Obi-Wan Kenobi fought the sigh that threatened to escape him.
His pupil had turned out to be quite a handful, and at times
the young Jedi began to despair of ever being able to teach the
boy anything. Patience, Obi-Wan, is not only a virtue-- it
is a necesity. When dispensing wise council, his mental
voice tended to deepen to mimic that of his old Master. A
twinge of sorrow twisted Obi-Wan's heart briefly, but he pushed
the emotion aside, not willing to deal with it at the present.
It had been two months since Qui-Gon had died, and still he
sometimes found himself turning, expecting to see his Master
and friend standing there, hands tucked into the sleeves of his
robe and face filled with gentle humor. How his heart used to
sing to him when they were together, his body shivering with a
newfound desire to taste and touch what had become a
cornerstone of his life. His Master, his friend, his Qui-Gon...
But reminiscing would bring nothing but healing pain, and
besides, Obi-Wan needed all of his considerable concentration
to deal with his young charge.
"A Jedi must have the ability to confront any situation with
both dignity and acceptance." Of course, he was leaving out the
part that he was as loath to go as was his young
Padawan. Was he ever this much trouble to Qui-Gon? "And that
includes..."
"I know, I know," Anikan cut in. "That includes attending
boring meetings and social gatherings." Obi-Wan raised an
eyebrow at his charge's insolent tone, his own will barely
keeping his face impassive. The Force alone knows how one of
the rashest teachers got aligned with the most audacious
student. Those were the words that he had heard spoken by
chance, and Obi-wan had to admit that there was a measure of
truth to be found within them. He often wondered if his
patience would snap.
"Anikan?"
"Yes, Obi... Yes, Master?" The blue eyes were looking up at him
with an expectant expression, and Obi-Wan floundered briefly as
he searched for a way to curb his Padawan's impertinence while
keeping Anikan's young dignity in tact. How had Qui-Gon done it
so many times?
Their eyes were locked into a deep stare, each unwilling to
give up ground. Obi-wan's mind searched frantically for
something to say or do, something that would move them past
this impasse. For the thousandth time, he found himself wishing
that he had been able to create a deeper bond than he had, but
whenever he tried to bond Anikan to him in a proper
Master-Padawan meld, something keep his mind from linking to
his students on a more than superficial level. It was as if
something was keeping him from a complete bond.
Finally, Anikan's eyes dropped away, and Obi-Wan just barely
repressed a sigh of relief. It was getting harder as each day
passed to create any meaningful connection with his student.
Sometimes, he found himself wondering if that fault was within
himself instead of within his student, as the Council supposed.
Sometimes, Obi-Wan wondered if he was holding himself back from
Anikan and thereby destroying the connection before it could
even begin.
"I will prepare myself, Master." Anikan's voice was
appropriately submissive and remorseful, as always, but as the
boy sedately removed himself from the room, Obi-Wan began
wondering desperately how long that would last.
And what he would do when he no longer had control.
I am in control of this situation, Qui-Gon reminded
himself firmly. I am in control. His entire body ached
and swayed as he followed the guards out of his prison for the
first time in what felt like centuries, the sudden lights of
the twisting halls blinding him. He was still naked, and his
skin hugged his bones tightly with very little flesh in
between. His throat was dry beyond the ability to speak, and
blood tricked from his cracked lips as he soundlessly voiced
the words that rang like a mantra through his head: I am in
control. I am a Jedi. I am in control. I am better than this. I
am in control!
He stumbled and was yanked back up, the harsh movements sending
flames of agony up his arm, but he would not let his face
betray him. He'd be damned before he let them know that he was
weakening.
"Hurry up, Jedi," one of the women spat, shoving him roughly.
"The Master is waiting." Those two words were filled with awe,
fear, and reverence, and Qui-Gon felt a shudder move through
him at her tone.
The Master.
Palpatine.
He was led into a large room and dropped into an unceremonious
heap on the slick floor.
"Master, we have brought the Jedi scum," the woman, obviously
the leader of the guards, spoke.
There was an extended moment of complete silence, and if
Qui-Gon had had the strength, he would have lifted his head to
see what was happening. And then the soft sound of displeased
tsking filled the air as Palpatine moved forward. "Now,
Captain, is that any way to treat our guest?"
The Captain took a step back as Palpatine moved forward, his
cold eyes glued on the silently shuddering Jedi Master that lay
in an undignified sprawl on the black floor. Satisfaction
pooled throughout him-- he was well on his way to breaking this
man-- and his voice poured out as smooth as silk as he
addressed his captive. "Master Qui-Gon, it is a pleasure to
have you in my company." It wasn't a lie-- it was a delicious
pleasure that spoke of the promise of revenge. Palpatine lifted
his hand slightly and raised Qui-Gon's head slightly with the
force so that the other man could look at him. The weary gaze
was not filled with hatred, but pain lurked deep within those
depths. It was a start. "But I see that you are unwell-- is
there anything I can do to ease your suffering?"
The other man made as if to speak, but no words would pass his
tortured throat. Finally, though, Qui-Gon was able to move his
lips in the semblance of speech, so that even though no sound
passed forth, Palpatine was able to read the movement of his
lips. "Give me back the Force."
Palpatine laughed dryly, his worn, seemingly gentle face
breaking into a friendly smile. "Why, Master Jinn, I am
not keeping you from feeling the Force. Explain to me how that
is possible?" Qui-Gon Jinn's brows drew together slightly, but
he could not answer. Even so, Palpatine waited for a few long
minutes to drive home his point. Finally, he broke the silence.
"Ah, can you not come up with a way? Perhaps that is because it
is not possible. I have done nothing to keep you from the
Force-- the force has abandoned you."
Qui-Gon shook his head weakly in denial.
Palpatine began circling slowly around the inert man, his face
sad. "I know, dear Master Jinn, that it must be very upsetting
for you. The Force is a Jedi's way of life, and losing contact
with it is like..." He paused in his circuit directly in front
of the other man, and his head tilted to the side as he
considered the haunted eyes and bedraggled face. "Well, it must
be like losing your very soul." He moved back a step, his eyes
locked with Jinn's. "But, we will see what we can do about
that, and, in time, you may begin to feel your Jedi powers
returning to you." His eyes never leaving Jinn's, Palpatine
motioned for a servant to come forward. "See that Master Jinn
is given food and drink. His room should be prepared for him."
The servant nodded and guards began to move forward to lift
Qui-Gon to his feet. "And, also, see that he gets a bath."
"I will not be fooled by this show," Qui-Gon mouthed at the
other man as he was hefted gently to his feet. "You cannot fool
me into believing that you are kind-- I know that you are a
monster."
Palpatine looked surprised. "Why, Master Jinn-- I never wanted
you to believe otherwise."
The spark of fear that jumped into the man's eyes was enough to
make Palpatine's dark heart sing.
Things may progress faster than he had dared hope.
Qui-Gon sat in perfect silence as his attendants bathed him. He
had been given water and limited food, yet he had been hard
pressed to take in the nourishment slowly so as not to make
himself sick. He was unaware of how long he had been in the
dark, silent prison without food and very little water, his
mind altering between fevered visions of Obi-Wan coming to his
rescue and Obi-Wan being destroyed at the hand of the Monster,
Maul. Or had his Padawan defeated the Sith Apprentice? He could
no longer remember what was truth and what was created by his
fevered mind, but Qui-Gon could not let himself believe that
his young love had been killed. No, Obi-Wan and Yoda, the two
that he cared the most for in his entire existence-- they were
out now, searching for him. They would not just leave him here
in the grips of the Sith Lord. They would see to it that he was
saved.
With this faint hope filling his breast, Qui-Gon let himself be
gently washed and dried without complaint. Even when they took
shears and clipped his hair next to his scalp and removed his
mustache and beard, he said nothing. Instead, he removed
himself to a place where his hope dwelled and imagined soft
skin pressed against him and blue eyes shining in love as a
softly-accented voice whispered in his ear: "Don't give up,
Master. I am here with you-- I am coming for you. Never give
up."
And his salved lips formed the words that sang from that hidden
part of his heart as he lay back on the soft bed:
"I love you."
Obi-Wan jerked awake with a cry, his eyes automatically
searching the room. "Master?" he called quietly, rolling up
from off of the bed. Quietly, he made his way past the slightly
open door that led to his Padawan's room and slipped onto the
balcony.
The wind was cold, and Obi-Wan shivered once before he let the
Force envelope him. Somewhere inside of him, he had felt
something... calling to him. Something that had touched him
even as he slept and had drawn him from his dreams. There was
something out there.
But what?
Drawing the Force around him, Obi-Wan sent out a call, reaching
out with his abilities in an attempt to touch what he knew was
missing.
Heal without filling the hole in heart, you cannot. Yes.
Search for what you need, you must.
"Where are you, Master?" Even beyond the grave, he should have
been able to feel Qui-Gon, but there was nothing. Nothing.
"Don't leave me alone."
A tear escaped his watchful lids, and Obi-Wan let it fall
unheeded down his face, his blue eyes searching the darkness of
the grave for his Master.
A small form watched from the threshold, unheard, his own blue
eyes staring at the man who had let his savior die. He loved
me. He saved me-- you don't want me here. He would have,
though. He would have.
They stayed there for a long, long time, Master and Padawan,
unconnected and alone, both hungering for a love that no longer
existed, pleading together.
Don't leave me alone.
"You're belief in this young Kenobi is remarkable, but
unwarranted."
Qui-Gon sat in silence as Palpatine paced about him. It had
been three weeks since he had been brought out of his prison
and had been put into another, more gilded, cage. He wasn't a
fool, and he recognized that Palpatine was slowly trying to
chip away his resolve and leave him open to the Dark side, but
he refused to let that happen. It was hard, though-- very hard.
The Sith Lord knew exactly what to offer him in order to temp
his spirit, and though he steadily refused, it was becoming a
daily battle.
"He hasn't come to rescue you, yet. He never will come,
Qui-Gon, but not because he can't. If he wanted to enough,
Obi-Wan could be here in a moment, but he chooses not to. You
must hate being cast aside so."
Qui-Gon Jinn almost smiled. Didn't this creature realize that
Obi-Wan would part the waters to retrieve him if he could? Just
as he would do anything to save his young Padawan, even if it
meant his own death. He had fought Maul, hadn't he? He had
tried to destroy the creature before he could harm Obi-Wan, and
he would do it again, even though he knew the outcome of his
actions-- being here, tempered by fire to turn his soul to
corruption.
Palpatine seemed to realize that this line of taunting wasn't
working, yet his next words were so unforeseen that Qui-Gon was
left speechless and unbelieving. "You love him, don't you?" The
Jedi Master stared at the Sith Lord, his shields stripped away
momentarily. He was used to being taunted skillfully about his
loss of the Force and his friend's abandonment of him, but
this... This was new. And this was very, very dangerous.
"Love?" He tried to say the word as if he had never heard it
before, but it came out more like a croak.
"Yes, Jinn, love. You love him in many ways-- as a Padawan, a
friend, and... a lover?" The sharp eyes dug holes into his
soul, leaving Qui-Gon gasping. "But you never said anything to
him, did you? You never told him how you felt. Why? You're a
strong Jedi Master, surely you knew that he would reciprocate
the emotion?" Palpatine paused in his pacing, his eyes
narrowing as he stared at the blanched face. "Or did
you? Maybe you thought that he wouldn't want you because you
were older? Well, yes, you did have quite a few years on
him, but surely that meant nothing to him, right? Right,
Qui-Gon? Or, perhaps you realized deep within yourself that
such a beautiful, vital young man would not be physically
attracted to a rather plain old male, hmm? He was rather
perfect, wasn't he? What could you be to that?" Qui-Gon tried
shaking his head-- he didn't want to hear this, not now. At any
other time he might have been able to bear it, but now he was
so weary and so weak... But he knew the worse was coming, and
he tried to draw up his mental shields to protect him from the
poisonous words.
He could never have been prepared for what came next.
"But no, that's not the reason. The reason you knew that you
could never have him is because you didn't want him to Bond
with a man with such a corrupt soul." Qui-Gon's head jerked up
in surprise, and he stared at the other man, his eyes widening
with each word that the Sith Lord spoke. "Yes, even then you
struggled against the Force. Even then you knew that you could
not have the quiet soul of a Jedi Knight. Why else did you
fight so hard against the Council? Why else could you not
defeat Darth Maul? Why else did you writhe in your bed every
night, your dreams filled with the darkest thoughts of the
young man who was under your care, who trusted you?"
Qui-Gon shut his eyes tight and reached up with his hands to
cover his ears. He couldn't stand the words that were spoken
and the chord that they struck deep within him. No! No, this
wasn't true, this wasn't true!
But Palpatine was relentless. //Your desire for the boy was so
deep that you just couldn't let it be. You let the bond between
you deepen far beyond what it should have; you let yourself
touch him and led him to believe that it was the innocent touch
of a friend and teacher, but it wasn't was it? It was the dark,
lavisciouse touch of a man who craved the flesh of a young
child who trusted him, who believed him. And you led them all
to think that you were a pure and holy Jedi, but you
weren't, were you? Not where it mattered.//
Qui-Gon was shuddering violently, his body having collapsed
onto the dark floor and curled about itself protectively. His
head thrashed from side to side as he tried to deny what he
heard within his mind, but the words sank in like death.
Hypocrite. Liar. Filthy. Soiled. I am soiled.
Palpatine watched the shuddering man for a long moment, his
lips curving into a smile. And so it began.
And as he turned on his heel and left the room, the Sith Lord
sent one last thought to the wavering Jedi:
//All in all, you're not that much different than me, are
you?//
Qui-Gon Jinn's sobs sang in his heart well into the night.
Qui-Gon sat alone in his room, his brows drawn together in
pain. He could feel the Force now, at last, but every attempt
he made to reach for it, to let it fill him and sustain him
left him ramming into a crystalline wall and wincing in
anguish. It was no use.
But, somehow, the fact that he could not reach the Force did
not fill him with want. He didn't deserve to touch the Force
anyway.
Sighing, Qui-Gon Jinn stood and headed towards the washbasin.
The water was cool as he splashed it against his face, running
against his smooth-shaven cheeks, and he dried himself with a
soft hand-towel as he stared contemplatively into the mirror,
his eyes searching for the man he used to be. The features were
still the same-- a nose, broken and badly reset long ago.
Scraggly dark brows and blue eyes. But everything else was
different. His face was haggard and his cheekbones sliced out
from his face; his eyes were hard and dark shadows made bruises
beneath his lids. Pain was etched in heavy lines about his
features.
Unconsciously, Qui-Gon touched his short-cropped hair, his
fingers curling slightly against the brown-gray pelt. Like a
Padawan's.
It was befitting that he had changed-- he no longer felt like a
Jedi Master. Deep inside, he doubted that he was one anymore.
Dropping the towel to the floor, Qui-Gon took the few steps to
the bureau and opened the heavy doors. Inside the clothes were
divided into two distinct sides. On one side were brown pants
and rough white shirts. A dark robe or two hung neatly on a
peg. But on the other side...
On the other side, clothes made out of the softest fabrics
hung, all in black. His hand reaching out compulsively, Qui-Gon
touched one of the black robes, his eyes closing at the soft,
silken feel of it. These cloths would not chaff or itch the
flesh-- they would slide against him like a second skin, supple
and so smooth...
Shaking his head, Qui-Gon reached for a white tunic and pulled
it out of the closet. Not too long ago, he would have been
horrified at himself for even touching the things, and now he
was imagining what it would be like to wear them. That should
not be.
But as he dressed himself for yet another day of torment,
Qui-Gon was filled with one helpless thought:
In the black robes, he would have the Force back. And with the
Force, he could finally kill Palpatine.
The mere thought made him smile.
Why is it that, no matter how hard I try, I cannot bond to
the boy? Obi-Wan watched silently as Anikan left him to
work on his light saber, his small shoulders slumped. He
knows that we are not as close as the other Master-Padawan
bonds that he sees, and he cannot understand why we are so
different. He stood gracefully, his brown robes settling
about him as he turned to the window. And how can I explain
it to him when I do not understand?
Obi-Wan reached back to tug on his long braid, forgetting
momentarily that it had been shorn when he had received his
Knight-hood.
I must speak with the Council. Perhaps the cause of this is
not within the boy, as we fear, and is instead within myself.
Perhaps I have not recovered from the loss of Qui-Gon. He
shook his head briefly, his blue eyes closing in a shadow of
pain. I will never recover from the loss of Qui-Gon-- not as
long as his signature is hidden from me. Not as long as I
cannot feel him within the Force.
Sitting down onto the floor, Obi-wan Kenobi closed his eyes and
began his search deep within himself.
I will conquer this.
The only clue that he had that this day would be any different
from the many before it was the absence of Palpatine.
What next? Qui-Gon wondered desperately as he knelt on
the cold black floor. How much more can I stand before I
break?
The silence was all-encompassing, filling the room with a
presence of it's own. Something is going to happen.
Something terrible.
And, of course, he was right.
Qui-Gon gasped audibly as Obi-Wan was led into the room, his
perfect white skin mottled by raised red lines, flushed angry
and swollen. His usually short-cropped hair was shorn close to
his skull, but done poorly, leaving sporadic clumps of hair
hanging to the bleeding scalp. A dirty, urine-soiled loincloth
hung to his almost flesh-less hips, and he staggered as if
drunken as the guards yanked on the chain that connected to a
blood-rusted collar on his throat.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon whispered in horror, realizing somewhere
deep within him that this wasn't the true man, that this was
merely a force-projected facsimile, but it was real enough to
make his blood burn and his heart weep. It was enough to cause
tears to run hot down his face as his hands shook and clenched
within his lap.
The image of Obi-Wan did not look towards him as he was led to
the center of the room, and one of the hooded guards turned to
him then and struck him across the jaw. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon
cried out together in shared pain, and the cold gaze that met
the struggling Jedi Master's was so cold and so dark that it
could only be one person: Palpatine.
The man smiled at Qui-Gon as Obi-Wan was stripped fully and
chained to a raised dais, his arms and legs spread out and
open. Qui-Gon's jaw clenched until it hurt, until blood seeped
from his mouth where his teeth had bit away at his tongue, his
eyes going dark and dangerous. //Don't touch him, Palpatine//
he warned the other man mentally, not even noticing that he was
now able to do so. //Do not harm him.//
"Or?" The other man's tone was light and amused as Obi-Wan's
screams began filling the black room. Qui-Gon did not break eye
contact with the Sith Lord, but he knew, he knew what
they were doing to his young love, and the hatred that boiled
up inside of him was welcome and releasing.
//I will kill you.// It wasn't a threat-- not anymore. It was a
promise of a fate that Palpatine would be unable to escape. His
death waited in Qui-Gon's hands and heart, and nothing would
keep him from tasting the blood of the black bastard on his
tongue.
"Will you?" Palpatine was almost smiling, his brows drawn up in
a question. "I don't think you know how."
Obi-Wan arched up on the dais, his screams ripping through the
air, and Qui-Gon threw himself forward with the aid of the
Force that bubbled through him, his palm flattening as he
thrust all his Force-inspired power behind it, ripping into and
crushing Palpatine's throat.
The body sagged, dead, and Qui-Gon caught it's weight as he
sank to the floor, his eyes seeking out the ruin of his first
kill's face.
Not Palpatine.
Obi-Wan.
He wanted to cry and press the soft face against his, but he
felt no pain. He had been tricked by the Sith Lord and had
killed instead a representation of what meant to him Light and
Love.
And with that, Qui-Gon's hope faltered and died as well.
Obi-Wan started up with a cry, his eyes filling with bitter
tears, blinding him as he flung himself off of his bed and ran
from the room. He could feel Qui-Gon within the Force, but it
was as if his former Master had been covered by an oily
residue, blocking his thoughts from him. Obi-Wan tore through
the halls, not even bothering to apologize to those he knocked
over in his desperation to reach the Council. Surely, he was
wrong. Surely this couldn't mean... It couldn't mean...
The door burst open before him, and Obi-Wan staggered to a halt
just inside the room, his eyes desperately searching each face.
They all looked at him with impassive Jedi calm, but there was
something into heir eyes, something sad and terrible.
And then Yoda bowed his head and nodded, his ears dropping
wearily. "Yes, Jedi Kenobi," he spoke, his voice low and soft.
"Lost him, we have."
The sobs broke out of Obi-Wan's young body, unable to be held
at bay, and he collapsed to the floor, his heart clenching
unbearably within his chest. The Council moved forward as one
to pull him back, afraid that the Fallen Knight's young
apprentice would follow his Master into the dark oblivion, but
Obi-Wan was beyond being able to care for their words or
Force-filled suggestions. He merely sobbed his heartbreak and
unbelief, his mind reaching for his love, repelled each time by
the slick black wall.
//Master...//
Qui-Gon Jinn, former Jedi Master, knelt on the cold black
floor, his long black cloak settling about him like a second
skin. His eyes were cold and vacant as he stared at the dark
boots of his new Master, and the Force sang like a bloated vein
throughout him.
//I have done as you've ordered, Master// he spoke with his
mind, thrilling at the way it burned within him. //I am ready
for my training.//
"Yes, Jinn. Yes, you are." Qui-Gon looked up and met the cold
eyes of the Sith Lord, his heart filled with hatred and fear.
The challenge of death waited in his eyes-- Palpatine's death.
The Sith Lord smiled as he saw his death looking up at him with
hating eyes. Maul had looked at him this way, too. They all
did-- all of his Darths. It was as it should be.
He touched his already-old hand to the shorn head of his new
Sith Jedi, knowing that while death may wait for him in this
bow-taunt form, it waited for Kenobi as well.
"Rise, my Apprentice." The form stiffened beneath his hands as
he said the words, but Qui-Gon complied, rising smoothly to his
feet, the long cape flowing behind him. He was not ready to
face Kenobi yet, but in time, he would be able to kill the man
he used to love and have no regret in his heart. Soon enough,
it would come to pass.
Palpatine could wait.
He was a very patient man.
Author's note: I would never dream of ending a story there, so
no worries.
Soon, the second story in the series will come out, most likely
titled Spiraling Down. I hope that you liked the tale!
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