Archive: Master and Apprentice--anyone else ask please
Summary: Obi-Wan writes down his personal thoughts in a
journal.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, much less these fine
characters--although I own a couple of action figures of them,
does that count? Probably not. Oh well, I refuse to make any
money off them in any event, so please don't sue me.
Notes: This was originally for a zine, but I've decided to just
post it.
Warnings: This story follows TPM canon.
Naboo. A peaceful world, and a beautiful one judging by the
pictures I've seen. Not a place the Jedi expect to be sent. We
spend most of our time in parts of the galaxy that are known
for trouble, not places known for peace.
When I first became a padawan, the journal was my least
favorite part. "Helps you to face yourself, it does," Master
Yoda said. Precisely why I would have preferred not to keep
it.
But he was right, as usual. The journal has helped me over the
years; this private one has helped even more than the official
journal. Here I can admit things I would not say out loud. Here
I can disclose the sense of wrongness I feel about this
mission. I dare not bring it up to my Master. Not yet.
If I mentioned it now, Qui-Gon would say I was spending too
much time on the future and not enough time on the present. A
warning does no good if it is not listened to, much less
heeded. So I will wait. If I still feel it when we land, maybe
I will mention it then. But not before.
I must be patient. My Master would be amused if he knew it
took my attempts to hit him with my ideas at the right moment
to teach me patience. Amused, but probably not surprised. He's
usually at least one step ahead of me--one of the many
qualities I admire about him.
Which makes me wonder why he hasn't sensed this yet. Am I
wrong? I realize there are things I still have to learn about
the Force--could I be reading this feeling incorrectly?
The captain has just informed us we are about to enter orbit
around Naboo. I must join my Master on the bridge and try to
reason out this feeling without the luxury of this journal to
help me.
I hope I am wrong. We shall know soon.
"Trust your feelings." How often have I heard those words? So
often I don't need my Master around to be able to hear him. I
should have trusted my feelings. There is something going on
with the Trade Federation blockade of Naboo, and it has nothing
to do with taxation of trade routes.
But what could it be? The Federation has a strong presence,
but personally, they are cowards. It goes against their nature
to take such an aggressive stance. Naboo's lack of any real
armed forces, combined with their location within the Republic
makes them an easy target, but it also makes them relatively
unimportant. On the surface, there is very little for the
Federation to gain by this action.
One thing is certain--any move the Federation makes is for
profit. There must be an opportunity for profit here that isn't
readily apparent. But what could it be?
And then there's the other problem. Jar Jar Binks. Qui-Gon and
I had to fight our way off of the Federation's battleship. We
stowed away on different landing craft to get down to the
planet's surface, and when we met up again on Naboo, he had
found this creature. Or perhaps the creature found him. I'm
still not clear on that. Whatever the case, he has become a
liability.
My Master is a kind and wise man. He sympathizes greatly with
'lost causes'. Sometimes he sympathizes a little too much. As I
write this, he is attempting to free Jar Jar from a tangle of
rather strong vines that have wrapped themselves intricately
around the creature's leg. Precious moments are being wasted,
and we must get to Theed as soon as possible.
Sometimes I think he loses sight of the mission at hand
because of his vision of being the voice of the downtrodden.
Then again, sometimes he proves me wrong. Most of the
time he proves me wrong. And on occasion my feelings for him
can cloud my judgment. So I will not question him.
Or at least, I will try not to question him. Master
Yoda may say, "There is no try," but he has had a few more
centuries to perfect his abilities than I have.
Finally Jar Jar is free of the vines. I just hope he does not
tangle us up further.
I hardly know where to begin. Jar Jar Binks led us to his
home--or at least, it was his home, until he was banished. His
people, the Gunguns, were of little help, but my Master did
persuade them to give us a transport. And Jar Jar. The
transport, at least, was helpful.
After a harrowing trip through the Naboo planet core, we
arrived in Theed just in time to see the Queen and her
entourage being escorted to camps. In order to get her safely
away we had to fight two separate contingents of droid
regiments.
Finally we made it off the planet, only to have the shields on
the ship shot out. We would have been destroyed if not for one
droid, R2-D2, who managed to survive the Federation attack and
repair our shields. Unfortunately, he can't do anything to help
the leaking hyperdrive, so instead of speeding off to
Coruscant, we are making a detour to Tatooine.
Panaka was not happy with Tatooine as a destination, but I
recognized the look on my Master's face when he announced the
decision to go there, and I have no doubt that is where we will
soon be. Not Panaka, not even the Queen herself will be able to
convince Qui-Gon otherwise.
But it will be interesting to watch them try.
The Queen agreed with our decision to go to Tatooine, not that
she had much choice. I'm not sure she trusts us completely,
however. I just saw Panaka hurrying after my Master, Jar Jar
and the R2 unit with one of the Queen's handmaidens--the
outspoken one, Padme. Something tells me my Master is about to
get a lesson in royal commands.
I hope he lets her go with him. She seems to have some kind of
control over the Queen, and both Qui-Gon and I agreed that no
messages should be sent. If that is to happen, I need to have
as much authority on this ship as possible. I have a feeling it
will be much easier without Padme on board.
There is more at stake now than just getting to Coruscant. The
feeling I had as we waited to land in Naboo's orbit has
increased. My Master is now feeling it as well--he said as much
before he left. There is a darkness prevalent in the Force,
along with something else. A strong pull unlike any other I
have felt. A pull with no discernible light or darkness to it.
Only strength.
Is there anything of value on board? I had to keep myself from
laughing into the commlink when my master asked the question. I
asked the Queen, but I already knew the answer. No one on Naboo
had been prepared for an invasion; the Queen certainly hadn't
been prepared to escape her own planet. There was nothing on
board worth any credits.
My master's problems only increased my worry. The dark
presence in the Force continued to grow stronger, as if it were
closing in on us. I hope that isn't the case, but whether it is
or not, we need to be off this planet. Soon.
Considering the lateness of the hour by the time my Master
reported in to the ship, I wasn't sure what to expect, but I
don't think anything could have prepared me for what happened.
It was a quick exchange. A blood sample, probably from this boy
Master spoke of earlier, a midi-chlorian count so high I
recalibrated the machine three times before I believed it, and
in response to my question about the meaning, nothing more than
a cryptic, "I'm not sure." What am I supposed to make of
that?
I miss having my master here. We are rarely separated, at
least not to this degree. In fact, we have spent most every day
together since the mission on Bandomeer where he took me on as
his apprentice. Even though I know we will soon be separated
when I become a knight, I find it difficult to believe. I have
been by his side for half my life, and would like nothing more
than to remain there. And I could, too. If he would only loosen
up his tight restraints on his own emotions just a
little.
No, I must focus on my mission, not on my own emotions. Could
the boy be the presence I detected on the planet? If so, why is
there no sense of light or dark? Because he hasn't been
trained? Or because he's hiding it? And if he's hiding it,
wouldn't it likely be because he is drawing on the dark side of
the Force? There would be no reason to hide it unless that was
the case.
One of the first lessons we were taught was never to
cross-examine a Jedi Master. Another one of the first lessons
we were taught is to constantly cross-examine ourselves.
Just once, I wish it could be the other way around.
I think the suns have finally gotten to Qui-Gon. He plans to
enter the young boy into a pod race to gain the parts we need
to repair the ship. Nothing against Tatooine, it's very...warm,
but I'm sure I would not want to be stuck here for a long
period of time. It's a nice place to hide, but I wouldn't want
to live here. And that just might happen if this plan doesn't
work.
A young boy, one Qui-Gon only just met. He didn't even trust
me for weeks when I was 13, yet he trusts this boy of only 9
immediately. I suppose I could look at this as a success on my
part--he obviously wasn't disappointed when he finally put his
trust in me, or he wouldn't trust this boy so readily. I could
look at it that way, if I choose.
Even so, I don't like it. He sees something in the boy, and
any creature he sees something in becomes a potential project.
We're already saddled with Jar Jar, assuming that one hasn't
managed to get lost or killed in Mos Espa. I don't care how
high the boy's midi-chlorian count is; we don't need any more
projects distracting us from the mission at hand. Too much is
at stake.
I find myself restless. The Boonta race should be taking place
right now, and as I wait for word of the results, I am almost
glad I'm not there. Waiting here is bad enough, actually
watching would be torture.
One small boy holds our fate in his hands. Not just our fate,
but the fate of a planet. If we stay here much longer, we will
be destroyed. I am sure of it. Darkness is closing in around us
like a cloak, and the avenue of escape continues to
narrow.
How long does a pod race take, anyway?
They won. I can scarcely believe it. Qui-Gon is on his way
back with the parts, and with Jar Jar, Padme and the droid.
Hopefully that is all he is bringing back. If we pick up any
more passengers we're going to run out of places to
sleep.
I knew it. My master came back, dropped off the parts, and
went back to town to pick up the boy. I have installed the new
hyperdrive and am waiting for them to return so we can take
off. I hope they hurry. I don't think we have much time.
As I look back over my last entries, I realize how optimistic
I was. I worried about too many passengers and a nagging sense
of danger. The reality is more than I ever would have
imagined.
A Sith. Neither of us have said the word out loud; it's not
something that's supposed to exist. The Sith live in legend
only. And perhaps this is only a former Jedi who turned, not a
true Sith.
I wish I believed that. I wish my Master did as well.
So many things are happening that are impossible to believe,
even to one raised to believe anything is possible. A child
with a midi-chlorian count higher than any being in existence.
A member of an extinct sect fighting my master on the dunes of
Tatooine.
My master nearly being bested and dying.
Of the many troubling events of the day, it is the last that
disturbs me the most. I could handle nearly anything the Force
chooses to place in my path. Except for Qui-Gon's death.
Oh I know that I would live on. But there is living, and then
there is living. The regrets I would be living with would very
likely eat me alive one day.
Perhaps I'm being a bit melodramatic. It's not as if there
would be outward signs. But inside...if there is any one thing
I would regret were either of us to die today, it would be that
I had hidden my feelings for him. I pushed them deep inside my
mind, where I could think on them when I was alone without
projecting to the every Force sensitive being in whatever
location I happened to be in. Most importantly, I tried to keep
the feelings from my surface thoughts, worried that I would
scare my master with their intensity. He knew how I felt; he
did not need to know how much. Not then.
I always planned to discuss it with him after my
knighting--planned a little too hard, I think. I have little
doubt what his response will be; he cannot shield from me that
well, not now. But I have held out for that moment, following
my knighting ceremony, in our own rooms in the Temple. The
entire scene has been a fixture in my mind for more years than
I care to think about.
Today has opened my eyes, and now I must open much more. I
refuse to harbor pessimistic thoughts; however, I can no longer
ignore the danger closing in. I witnessed evidence of what it
can do today. Not only to the Republic, but to my chance with
Qui-Gon.
He has been resting for several hours, so he should be awake
soon. The time for waiting is over. I must speak to him.
I've stared at this damned reader for an eternity, and I can't
think of how to start. How do you describe something that
changed your life? I don't know how to put it into words.
I went to Qui-Gon, determined to tell him how I felt. The
lights were still on low when I entered his room, but I could
still see him lying there, asleep. Despite my determination, I
walked soundlessly to him and sat on the edge of the bed. He
was so peaceful. The lines on his face that had been more
pronounced than ever after the fight had smoothed out, and
there was almost no sign of tension on his brow save a few
little wrinkles from too many years of wearing the Jedi
demeanor.
My hand moved before I even thought, tracing the air just
above his forehead, down his nose, hovering over his lips. I
could feel his breath, soft and warm, ghosting over my
fingertips, and I hesitated, wondering if I should just leave,
let him sleep, and talk to him later. Why disturb such
peace?
Then his eyes opened. Sleepily at first, but awakening in a
hurry as he realized I was sitting over him, that my fingers
were nearly touching his mouth. "Master...."
"Shhh...." In that moment, I saw it in his eyes. I didn't have
to say a word; he already knew. Something that shouldn't have
surprised me, but it did. If he'd known, then why had he held
back? Waiting for me to make the first move? Or waiting for the
right time? I'm still not sure. But then he reached out and
took my fingers between his lips, gliding his tongue across
them, and I didn't bother to think about it again.
So often I've dreamed of our first time together. In my
perfect world it was at home, with candles and dinner and slow
loveplay leading up to a joining beyond my wildest dreams. But
this...this was so much beyond anything my wildest dreams could
have imagined. At the feel of his tongue on my fingers, I
moaned, and that was the end of anything slow. We couldn't get
clothes off fast enough, couldn't join fast enough. I've
performed high-speed katas that were slower than the pace of my
hips moving against him as we joined together.
As I lay in his arms in the aftermath, I realized that despite
our location, I was at home. With him. I shall never forget the
feel of the fine linen sheets--there are definite benefits to
being on a royal transport as opposed to in a Jedi temple--or
the even finer, silkier feel of his skin against mine. I moved
so much to revel in that feeling that he finally asked me to
stop squirming. So I just buried my nose in the crook of his
neck and filled my head with his scent and went to sleep, to
wake up to the most wonderful sight in the world--his head on
the pillow next to mine.
Now I sound like a lovesick fool. Well, perhaps the lovesick
part is not far from the truth. But I am trying not to be a
fool. This will not be easy. And, as before, I sense danger
ahead. These things are not forgotten.
But for the moment, they don't seem nearly as important. We
have two weeks yet before we reach Coruscant. And I will enjoy
every moment I can get in that time, and store them away for
whatever the future brings.
Like my master says, "Live in the moment."
Normally I hate long space journeys. Weeks of being cramped
with others on a small ship, with no sun, or grass, or trees
are trying at best. In this case, it is also weeks with no
outside communication. Any attempt to communicate with the
outside world, and we could be discovered by the Queen's
enemies.
This journey could last forever, and I would not be sorry. It
is like an alternate universe where there is time to explore
options. And explore feelings.
Since leaving Tatooine a week ago, Qui-Gon and I have spent
our days attending to various duties. We discuss strategy with
Panaka, the Queen, and her handmaidens. We mediate the kinds of
arguments that naturally arise when beings are stuck together
in a small amount of space. Despite the solitude of our group,
our days are surprisingly full.
But the nights...those are what I live the days for.
I try not to let it distract me from my work, and most of the
time I succeed. If the change in our relationship were to
affect duty, I know that my master would rethink the new
closeness between us. I also know that he would not have
allowed this new stage to begin if he did not trust my ability
to keep the two separate.
Nevertheless, my mind does occasionally drift during the day,
and when it does, I find myself longing for the night. For the
moment when we shut the door of our room and he takes me in his
arms, and the entire galaxy disappears to nothingness.
Speaking of which, I can sense him heading for our room now,
and the ship has just cycled down for night.
The day is survived.
Only a few days remain until we reach the capital city. I look
forward to it, and yet I dread it at the same time. Things will
change when we reach the Temple. I believe some of our
shipmates are aware of the relationship between my master and
myself, though whether they realize it began here, I don't
know. Panaka, I think, senses something. And the handmaiden,
Padme (if, indeed, that is who she truly is)...I'm certain she
knows. She hasn't said a word, it's just the smile she gives us
when she sees us together.
We haven't exactly been open about our feelings, but we have
not hidden them either. At the temple, however...this type of
relationship is not forbidden. It is not encouraged either.
There are times when I feel like my love for Qui-Gon is too
great to contain inside of myself. I can sense there are times
he feels that way as well. How are we supposed to act as if
nothing has changed? It will be difficult. But nothing about
being a Jedi is ever that easy. We will manage.
Then, of course, there's the boy. Qui-Gon's chosen one--chosen
with a great deal less prodding than it took him to choose me,
I might add. Not that I doubt my place in his life or his heart
any longer. Still, I must admit, if only here, that it rankles.
It is clear that the boy has more power in the Force than
anyone I've ever encountered. It is also clear, at least to me,
that danger surrounds him. His temper is quick to surface, and
his moods change faster than the weather on Hrashla.
Qui-Gon is quick to remind me that my temper was just as quick
as Anakin's, and at a greater age. I do remember being quick to
anger at injustice, and I doubt that Melida/Daan can ever be
completely wiped from either of our minds. Still, there is
something far more dangerous in the boy's mercurial moods. He
does not have the grounding in the Jedi teachings that I had
nearly from birth. Without such things, my temper might have
very well caused serious problems, and not just for me. How
will such a temperament fare with less grounding and far more
power?
The night cycle on the ship has begun again, and I feel my
master's approach. Time is running short, but we have the night
stretched out in front of us. Time once again to live in the
moment.
If only the moment didn't have to end.
My master went before the Council and requested the boy be
trained. I should have known better than to hope that common
sense would get in the way of the world according to Qui-Gon
Jinn. I admire his willingness to follow his own path, I just
wish he weren't so willing to follow it so often.
We arrived on Coruscant, and requested a meeting with the
Council. As might be expected, they were less than receptive to
the idea that there were Sith Lords wandering the galaxy. I
thought, for one brief moment, we might actually survive the
meeting without mention of Anakin Skywalker, but then my Master
decided he could not leave things alone.
The Council has agreed to test the boy. But they will not
agree to his training; that much I know. They agree to nothing
that does not fit in their narrow, well-defined view of the
galaxy. The Code as it has been practiced for thousands of
years must not be tampered with; a view my Master does not
share.
Qui-Gon has just gone to take the boy for his testing. I know
better than to argue with him on the subject any more. Not that
that will stop me.
I like my life and my feelings in nice, labelled compartments.
Since the change in my relationship with Qui-Gon, my feelings
have been anything but. Not that I would trade our new
closeness for a simpler life, or anything else for that matter,
but I haven't experienced emotional upheaval such as this since
Bandomeer. Interesting how Qui-Gon always seems to be at the
center of my most emotional moments.
When he returned from delivering the boy to the Council, we
went for a walk. Coruscant doesn't have much a skyline,
certainly not compared to some places we've been, but there are
parts of the Temple with beautiful views nonetheless. Qui-Gon
and I went to one of the higher balconies. The sun was just
starting to disappear behind the never-ending line of
buildings, bathing everything in a soft orange glow. Apparently
I have inherited my Master's stubborness after all. I made one
last attempt to convince him that the Council would not listen.
Of course, it did no good.
Before I could give in to my frustration, Qui-Gon put his hand
on my arm, and pulled me into an embrace. In public. In the
Temple. We were alone for the moment, but anyone could have
walked by. My heart soared. As aggrivating as his willfullness
could be, it had advantages. We were not going to hide after
all.
He whispered words in my ear, something about going home. I
think my instinctive "I already am home," pleased him, judging
by the smile I could feel against my temple. He turned me
toward the door and I realized he meant our rooms. It wasn't
until I walked into his bedroom, however, that I went from
happy to bursting with...everything, love, caring, lust...all
of it. At some point he'd found the time to create the perfect
scenario, the way I'd always imagined our first time would have
been. "The testing will take hours," he said. "I would not want
to waste that time."
I was in total agreement. Of course, when he kisses me, there
is very little I won't agree too. I am fortunate he will not
take advantage of that fact. We used every moment of the time
to explore each other, mapping each other's bodies with a great
need for even the smallest detail--and one day I will get the
story about the half-circle scar on the back of his leg, at the
top of his right thigh. The amount of amusement in his eyes as
I asked about the scar is reason enough to know it's a story
worth telling.
The joy and contentment from our loveplay have yet to leave
me, which, I'm sure, will not be a good enough excuse when my
Master comes back and finds me still naked in his bed. The
Council will be done testing Anakin very soon, so once again
reality intrudes on my dream world.
Ah, but I must remember that the dream world is part of
reality now, and not just a fantasy. My Master is truly mine
now, in every sense of the word.
As long as I have that, I can face anything reality chooses to
send my way.
Insufferable, strong-willed, blind, idiotic fool! I've seen my
Master do some insane things, but this certainly beats
them all. Decide the boy must be trained. Fine. Insist the
Council test him. Fine. Dump your Padawan in favor of the boy?
Not fine. Not by any stretch of the imagination.
One moment, it's, "You still have much to learn." The next
moment it's "Obi-Wan is ready to take the trials." And
everything that went between those moments makes the whole
betrayal that much worse.
How could he do this? How am I supposed to know how to react?
One moment I'm the lover, the equal, the next I'm supposed to
go back to being the subservient Padawan, only to be shoved
into the cold light of the Council's judgement, unprepared to
show my preparedness to be Knight. Did he really think so
little of me as to give me no warning? Or did he even think at
all?
Was everything that happened over the last few weeks really
what I thought it was? Or was it just a goodbye present?
One week. We've gone round and round about this for one week.
Or perhaps I should say another week. The argument is
old and stale, and neither of us gets anywhere. But we refuse
to give it up. Perhaps it is because if we stopped arguing
about the boy, there would be deeper and much harder
discussions to face.
Most of my anger has abated. I understand what happened in the
Council chamber, truly I do. I have not been Qui-Gon Jinn's
padawan for this long without understanding how his mind works,
or dealing with the ramifications of his tendencies. This is
not the first time I've had things thrown at me out of nowhere
in a bad situation.
It's just the first time it's hurt this badly. That, too, has
mostly disappeared. I've watched Anakin on this trip, and I
must say I've changed my mind. Qui-Gon is right. The boy needs
to be trained. And I understand that my Master thought he would
be the only one willing. As for my trials, he has been adamant
that he had planned to bring that matter before the Council as
soon as the Naboo mission was over; would have brought it to
them sooner if we had not been diverted to Naboo on the way
home from our last mission.
Now if we could only stop this senseless fighting....
I have a bad feeling about this. No, the sense of danger on
the Trade Federation ship was a bad feeling. This...this is a
screaming sense of impending disaster. Qui-Gon thinks I'm
borrowing trouble because of my feelings about Anakin, and
nothing I can say will change his mind. So I shall have to be
extra careful.
We arrive on Naboo tomorrow. The queen says she has a plan,
one that requires the assistance of Jar Jar Binks. Perhaps
there's something wrong with the air on the ship, because it
seems as if insanity has become contagious.
My master and I have finally stopped arguing, for the most
part, though neither of us has apologized. It was more of a
cease-fire, a silent pact to enjoy what we can of the time we
have before we are thrust once again into the middle of a war.
I am glad for the nights again, for the few hours in his arms
when I can block out the doubts, the problems, and the sense of
danger. For those few stolen moments I can still feel as though
everything will turn out all right.
I apologized, finally, and received in return what mostly
amounts to an apology in Qui-Gon's mind. I could not go into
battle without having truly made peace, so out in the forrest,
under the trees, fresh from the knowledge that Padme was the
Queen (the favors Qui-Gon will owe me from that bet will keep
our relationship interesting for a long time to come), we made
our peace.
As I sit here and wait for time to begin the Queen's plan, I
am glad things are settled between Qui-Gon and myself. Now we
can focus on the battle to come without personal matters to
distract us. We will need all our wits about us, of that I am
sure.
Qui-Gon is dead.
I look back at my last entry, and even now, weeks later, I can
still scarcely believe it. But it is true. I watched his body
burn, but even before that, I felt his presence leave me as he
breathed his last breath.
There is no death; there is only the Force. So where is my
Master?
This journal has always been a way for me to sort my feelings
out for myself. My lack of writing since...since Naboo
underscores my inability to get my feelings to a level I can
begin to sort out. I am stuck, or I was, caught in a place
where I was either numb, or feeling so much, so fast, I
couldn't control any of it. Neither state is a good place for
training a new apprentice. Anakin has not received my best
efforts, I'm afraid.
We returned to the Temple this afternoon. Two weeks on a ship
has not decreased Ani's sadness over losing both Qui-Gon, and
in effect, Amidala, in such a short time, so soon after the
loss of his mother. We have both spent a great deal of time in
meditation, releasing our anger and pain into the Force. I
confess at this point I think he has done a better job than
I.
Tonight, I was more numb than ever, forced to move my
belongings from my old room into...I'd always thought that when
we returned to the Temple that I would move into this room. I
never imagined that it would be alone, and with a new Padawan
in the room I called my own for so many years. I had to go
through all of his things, none of which I could bear to
throw out. I was in the process of putting everything into a
box to be placed in the closet until I could deal with it
properly when I found a letter in a drawer, a letter on actual
paper--a rarity on Coruscant. The folded paper had my name on
the outside, in writing I recognized, though I'd only seen it a
few times.
It was written the day we'd made love here in his room, while
we waited for the Council to test Ani. I can only guess that he
must have written it while I was in the 'fresher, before he
joined me there. He thought there was a chance, even then, that
he might not make it back from Naboo, and he wanted to make
sure I was not left in any doubt of his feelings for me.
Of all the feelings I have now, numbness is not one. Numbness
would be a blessing. Why? Why didn't he tell me? I could have
been more careful, I could have stopped him from going into
that pit alone. I could have done something. We could have been
together. Should have been together, for a long time to
come. And now all I have are memories and an apprentice who may
very well be the 'Chosen One.' Whatever that means--he wasn't
kind enough to leave that information in the letter.
It hurts. Knowing that he didn't tell me, that he went to that
mission prepared for the possibility he would die. But I know
him. Part of me already understands. I hate it, but I
understand. And he didn't leave me completely alone. He left me
with a Padawan, one that he entrusted to no one else's care but
mine. He left me with this honest letter, the good and the bad,
the portent of his own downfall, and all of the love and wonder
he felt for me.
And as I sit on the bed we shared, if only for a day, I can
sense him.
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