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I have been making this fanfic for a long time. I still have to edit some parts, but I want to know what you all think of it!
Part One
The Last Mission
Chapter 1
I sighed, and stared out the transparisteel window of the Republic Cruiser that was transporting my Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, and I to the watery world of Naboo in the fringes of the Republic. There wasn't much to look at, frankly, since the cruiser had jumped to hyperspace an hour ago, which meant that even the stars appeared to whizz by us, though, in reality, we were really shooting by them, like a blur against an endless background of obsidian.
To be completely honest, as much as a Jedi, even a Padawan, can be regarded as hating anything, I loathe flying. Flying on the surface of a planet is awful enough, but I absolutely despise interstellar hyperspace travel. The entire notion of the jump to hyperspace, which is always an atom-juggling, light-smearing, and molecule-twisting experience that causes all my midichlorians to scream in protest, made me extremely queasy.
Let me be plain. When I say queasy, I don't mean just to imply nauseous, as in sick to my stomach, which I'm considering having surgically removed by a medic, because Jedi rarely receive anything truly scrumptious to consume anyhow.
Still, I've accepted the fact that it is necessary for a Jedi such as myself to utilize hyperspace travel as a means of going from Point A to Point B, and from Point B to Point C. After all, it would literally take lifetimes, even with the longevity the Force can grant a polished Jedi, to travel to any world outside the Coruscant system by sublight, and the beings a Jedi is intended to serve really can't wait that long, I suppose, even if patience is a virtue.
However, the unease that hyperspace journeying always inspired was not the epicenter of my discomfiture currently. Actually, I was reflecting upon my previous assignment on Coruscant, striving to find closure in a matter that only created more haunting inquiries in me the more I contemplated it.
It should have been a relatively simple and routine mission, which was why the Jedi Council and Master Qui-Gon had sent me on it alone, as preparation for my trails, which both Qui-Gon and I recognized that I would be ready to face soon. Yet, it turned out to be rather complicated.
A little more than two days ago now, Qui-Gon had sought me out during my typical morning meditation in the soothing Room of a Thousand Fountains, slipped down on a rock beside me, and explained to me that Darsha Assant, a female Padawan my age, had gone missing in the course of her trail of ferrying a Black Sun gang member witness from a safehouse in the Crimson Corridor, a region in the underbelly of Coruscant's equatorial area where the sun really never shines, and an invading herd of banthas would be constituted as gentrifying the neighborhood, to the Jedi Temple, so that he could testify against a bunch of his fellows in the court of law. In theory, this was a routine mission, but she had obviously blundered somehow if she had disappeared, and her Master, Anoon Bondara, had apparently gone after her, and had vanished, as well.
When Master Qui-Gon provided me with this update, I immediately volunteered to embark on a search for them, not only because it was my duty as a fellow Jedi to rescue them if possible, but also because I had immense respect for the skills of Master Bondara, who is a brilliant warrior, and I was fairly close to Padawan Assant. Although we were not best friends like Bant Eerin, Garen Muln, Reeft, and even Siri Tachi, and I are, she had been in many of my classes, and I had always been impressed with her quick wit, and her mind, which was sharper than a vibroblade. We had talked to each other regularly at the Temple between missions, and we had sparred twice with her winning the first match, and me emerging the victor from our second duel. I had looked forward to cooperating with her on future missions, but that, obviously hadn't been the will of the Force, for I had discovered that both Darsha Assant and Master Anoon Bondara had perished in the course of their mission, and the Black Sun informant had died as well, meaning that they had not been able to fulfill their final mission, either, which was even worse, especially because I couldn't shake off the conviction that I was missing something important…
"You're brooding again." Qui-Gon's mildly amused and gently chastising voice dragged me out of my musings.
"Sorry, Master," I mumbled, shaking my head, as I returned to the present moment, which, as Qui-Gon would assert, is the crucial moment. "I was just thinking about my last assignment― I can't banish the feeling that I'm missing something terribly important, that I'm groping blindly in the dark, but some hidden truth is only inches away from my fingers, yet I can't see it, and so I miss it due to the lack of illumination."
"Deaths often have a disorienting effect upon us," noted my Master. "Therefore, it is nothing to fret about."
"Sorry, Master," I mumbled, shaking my head, as I returned to the present moment, which, as Qui-Gon would assert, is the crucial moment. "I was just thinking about my last assignment― I can't banish the feeling that I'm missing something terribly important, that I'm groping blindly in the dark, but some hidden truth is only inches away from my fingers, yet I can't see it, and so I miss it due to the lack of illumination."
Their deaths are so distressing, because I sense that they conceal something critical, but I have no notion as to what, and so, to me, their deaths are still essentially pointless, since they never succeeded in their primary objective. However, I didn't establish any of this aloud, partly because I was aware it sounded disrespectful to the deceased, and partly because I have never been awesome at expressing myself verbally, especially when I'm aiming to express my feelings. I have feelings as complex as just about anybody else, but I have difficulty sharing them with others, even my mentor, whom I trust absolutely.
Perhaps, my thoughts broadcasted themselves partially via our Force-bond, though, for he educated me, "No death is meaningless, as those who pass away merely become one with the Force." Here, he paused to extend his heavy, callused hands for my inspection. "Look at my hands, Obi-Wan. Everybody thirsts for the hope of something after death, which is why just about every culture I've ever encountered has a religion of some type, and, indeed, there is an afterlife, for one becomes one with the Force by dissolving like cream mixed into steaming stimcaf. These hands have been knit into shape by the universe, will hold it for a few score years, and then lose it again, surrendering to the power of the Force that ties us all together." He nodded at the space flickering by outside the transparisteel. "Even those stars we're flashing by that glitter so vibrantly now will eventually burn out. Such is the way of the Force."
"And, in the end, entropy will triumph completely," I murmured, reciting by rote the arguments of many a scientist. "Black holes will swallow all heat and light― all enthalpy― and, ultimately, devour themselves, as well, and, then, the universe will become infinitely cold and devoid of life and light. I can't help but wonder if enthalpy is the Light Side, and entropy the Dark, Master."
"Either way, your duty is still the same, Padawan. You must serve the Force as best you can, and that is all you need concern yourself with." After scrutinizing me closely with his keen light blue eyes, he asked, "Are you prepared to contact the Jedi Council, and fill them and me in on what exactly occurred on your last assignment?"
"Yes, Master." Although I did not wish to discuss this topic, I was as ready to do so now as I would ever be, so I bobbed my head in assent, and switched on the holocam, and entered in the code for the Temple.
Half an hour later, I had detailed how, after receiving my mission, I had descended by speeder bike to the coordinates the Council had provided of the safehouse, where the Black Sun informant had temporarily resided, and how I had found the remains of Darsha's speeder there. Speaking with a local, I had learned that the man Darsha had been responsible for transporting had been killed, so, suspecting that Black Sun had eliminated one who would betray them, I headed over to the gang's headquarters.
There, I explained, I discovered that the vigo, or crime overlord, had been murdered, possibly indicating that another coup was occurring within the illegal organization, and nobody had witnessed the vigo's assassination, or had seen Darsha or Master Bondara. Since I still operated under the assumption that Darhsa and Master Bondara were alive, I interviewed locals, I told the Council and Qui-Gon, and heard how beings that matched the descriptions of the two missing Jedi had been chased by a mysterious cowled figure in a swoop of the type that I later discovered had been stolen from the law enforcement, how Master Bondara had battled the cloaked individual and had been killed in the endeavor, and how the vehicle the Jedi were in had crashed.
When I examined the location of the crash, however, I felt nothing to indicate that Darsha had died with Master Bondara, and so I continued to search for her. During my looks about the city, I spotted a crime scene being investigated not far from where the pair of Jedi had last been seen. The building being investigated was an old, abandoned factory, where they had been some sort of explosion. In the debris, I uncovered the remains of Darsha's lightsaber, which I had recognized only due to its distinctive handle, but I had unearthed nothing to indicate that she lived on, and I felt in the Force the void of her absence.
At this juncture, a lump formed in my throat as I told this tale. Speaking of Darsha's death made it undeniably real, and that sliced me, since I found it challenging to accept that so much promise could be murdered in a brief time span. Darsha would have made a fine Jedi, and it was unfair that she had been stolen from the galaxy before she could contribute more to it.
Still, I managed to maintain composure as Yoda, Mace Windu, and the rest of the Council asked me questions that elicited more specific data from me. It was only when they terminated the transmission that I exhaled deeply, and leaned further back in my chair.
"Not every mission ends badly," observed Qui-Gon, attempting to pull me away from mourning for Darsha, since attachment isn't the way of the Jedi. A Jedi ought to rejoice for those who have entered the Force, instead of grieving for them. Grief was indicative of possession, and demonstrated that one was foolishly setting one's own selfish desires against the greater good of the all-pervading and omnipotent Force, which was a dangerous, self-destructive path that no Jedi should ever traverse. "Remember our first official mission together? Surely, you can't have forgotten Paaxi and Guerra?"
"I haven't forgotten them, Master." I couldn't contain a grin at the thought of the two vexing criminal brothers who had shipwrecked us in order to trap us on their homeworld of Phindar, so that we could rescue their plant from the clutches of the crime dictatorship that restricted access to food and medicinal supplies for civilians. "I'm glad that they're both the patriarchs of large families now."
"I couldn't have forgotten them, anyway, even if my memory had been successfully wiped by the Syndicrat," I amended, recalling how the crime organization had believed it had wiped my memory, even though, through employment of the Force, I was able to prevent such a disastrous outcome, which explained how I had survived my stint on the neighboring planet Gala, which was torn by strife between its three tribes, where I had been released after my supposed memory wipe. "Besides, that wasn't our first official mission together, Master, since the Council did not actually authorize it."
"By that standard, half of our missions together don't count," chuckled Qui-Gon.
"Yes, we can cross anything pertaining to Didi off our list of official missions." I referred to our troublemaking buddy, who was the proprietor of a cafe on Coruscant, and who had a tendency to seek our assistance whenever he discovered himself in over his head with the lowlifes he persisted on associating with. When Qui-Gon first introduced me to him, I instantly wrote him off as yet another vagrant that my Master, due to the excesses of his Living Force connection, believed it was worthwhile to deal with, despite what everyone else perceived, but, over time, I had come to appreciate Didi Oddo for his cheeriness, and connections to the city and criminal grapevines of Coruscant.
Qui-Gon smiled at me, and began a remembrance of one of Didi's numerous exploits. Before either of us were aware of it, we were exchanging memories of a thousand experiences on a hundred missions we had gone on as a team. We had never chattered this much on a trip to a planet before, because neither of us are into lengthy conversation, and so our bond is more centered around quiet companionship and silent communication, however, Qui-Gon was in a rare talkative mood, and that made me want to chat, as well.
I surmise that both knew that my time as an apprentice was drawing to a conclusion, even if neither of us acknowledged as much aloud, because we simply didn't need to as we were that attuned to each other, and neither of us wished to forget the special moments we had shared. Reliving these adventures made me somewhat reluctant to face the trails, especially after what had happened to Darsha during hers.
Sure, I believed that that I was capable of passing the trials, and would be a competent Jedi, even if there was still much I could learn from my instructor, but I was not eager to leave the protection and guidance afforded by my relationship with Qui-Gon, because I felt an overpowering sense of friendship and loyalty, and I was loath to be separated from him. Yet, that wasn't the Jedi way. I would have to overcome my attachment, or it would be my undoing.
I had just determined as much when the pilot flipped off the lights, hinting that we should rest, and I knew, intellectually, that we ought to go to the sleep area, and snooze, or at least meditate, on the sleep coaches there, for we might not have another opportunity to do so for standard days, but, alas, there was an emotional overrule that occurred in my muscles that rendered it impossible for me to move.
Possibly, Qui-Gon harbored similar sentiments, for he remained stationary, as well, so the two of us just sat quietly in our chairs, comfortable and content in each other's presence, and feeling no compulsion to speak now that all our memories had been swapped.
In the silent darkness, the question that had hovered in the back of my mind for months, as I approached the trials, arose to the forefront of my brain, and this time, before I could halt them, the words tumbled out, "Master, can you tell me something I'm lacking― something that I cannot see that I need to work on?"
"Do you mean a flaw, Padawan?" Even though I could not discern his face clearly in the dark that enveloped us like a veil, I was able to envision his arching his eyebrows at me, since I was more familiar with his facial expressions than I was with my own, as Jedi don't condone gazing into mirrors all that often. A Jedi should concern himself or herself with more pressing matters than his or her physical appearance, and I daresay that vanity is not likely to be my downfall.
"Yes," I agreed, deciding that the succinct definition he had proposed was perfectly functional, illustrating once again that I'm no wordsmith. Not wanting him to list weaknesses I already was aware of since I wished to learn of shortcomings that I did not recognize in myself, and, therefore, could not defend myself against, I elaborated, "You have told me that I worry too much, and I've tried to work on that."
"Ah, you mean that you've worried about worrying too much?" The lightly teasing quality in my Master's tone stated all too plainly that this was an amusing scenario that only I could perform.
"I can be impatient with living beings, too," I went on, still in a serious tone, because we were, after all, discussing my faults, which is a grave affair, although I could feel my lips quirking upward at his words, since when he phrased it in such a simplistic fashion, I realized that what I'd been doing amounted to just that, which was ironic. "I know that, and sometimes I'm a little too confident of my abilities, perhaps."
"These things are true, Obi-Wan," conceded Qui-Gon in a somber voice, because, apparently, my persistent seriousness had finally impacted him, "but they are not flaws. I have seen how hard you have worked, and I've witnessed what you can accomplish."
"Then what is my flaw?" I frowned, thinking that his assessment resembled praise more than a critical analysis.
At this point, Qui-Gon hesitated for such a considerable amount of time that I imagined that he had fallen asleep, despite my anxiousness to hear my worst shortcoming. Still, I didn't pursue the issue, as I had learned over the years of my apprenticeship to the man that he would reveal everything in his own time, and no measure of insistence would wrangle a word out of him if he didn't want to say it. Finally, he commented softly, "You will be a great Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I know that with every beat of my heart, with every breath I take. You will make me proud that I was present at your beginnings." Again, he paused to gather his thoughts as though they were leaves that had been scattered in a windstorm, while I basked in the glow of his praise, and then he resumed, "If you do have a flaw, perhaps it is simply this: you wish to please me too much."
When he announced as much, I was glad that the lights were switched off, because I gawked at him, as if I had never laid eyes upon him before, although he was probably able to read my astonishment through our Force bound, anyway. I had never considered my desire for my Master to approve of my behavior as a fault of mine. After all, what sort of pupil would I be if I set out to disappoint my mentor?
Still, I could recall plenty of times when we had argued, because he insisted on defying the Council's edicts thanks to his championing of the Living Force, whereas I had wished to observe the dictates of the Council, being more grounded in the Unifying Force, and I doubted that I would have been able to contradict him if I had been obsessed with earning his approval, but, doubtlessly, Qui-Gon comprehended what he was talking about loads better than I did, for his prodigious Living Force abilities permitted him insight into human emotions that I could not hope to possess, even if I was dealing with myself. In this instance, I would defer to my Master, therefore, as I usually did. After all, wasn't his analysis of my greatest fault in harmony with my own revelation that I was too attached to him?
Yes, it was, which meant that I must cure myself of my need to gain my Master's approval, and my desire to always remain by his side. I must learn to be comfortable without him, since that is the will of the Force, and the way of the Jedi, and I must comply, meaning that I may as well do so wholeheartedly.
Part One
The Last Mission
Chapter 1
I sighed, and stared out the transparisteel window of the Republic Cruiser that was transporting my Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, and I to the watery world of Naboo in the fringes of the Republic. There wasn't much to look at, frankly, since the cruiser had jumped to hyperspace an hour ago, which meant that even the stars appeared to whizz by us, though, in reality, we were really shooting by them, like a blur against an endless background of obsidian.
To be completely honest, as much as a Jedi, even a Padawan, can be regarded as hating anything, I loathe flying. Flying on the surface of a planet is awful enough, but I absolutely despise interstellar hyperspace travel. The entire notion of the jump to hyperspace, which is always an atom-juggling, light-smearing, and molecule-twisting experience that causes all my midichlorians to scream in protest, made me extremely queasy.
Let me be plain. When I say queasy, I don't mean just to imply nauseous, as in sick to my stomach, which I'm considering having surgically removed by a medic, because Jedi rarely receive anything truly scrumptious to consume anyhow.
Still, I've accepted the fact that it is necessary for a Jedi such as myself to utilize hyperspace travel as a means of going from Point A to Point B, and from Point B to Point C. After all, it would literally take lifetimes, even with the longevity the Force can grant a polished Jedi, to travel to any world outside the Coruscant system by sublight, and the beings a Jedi is intended to serve really can't wait that long, I suppose, even if patience is a virtue.
However, the unease that hyperspace journeying always inspired was not the epicenter of my discomfiture currently. Actually, I was reflecting upon my previous assignment on Coruscant, striving to find closure in a matter that only created more haunting inquiries in me the more I contemplated it.
It should have been a relatively simple and routine mission, which was why the Jedi Council and Master Qui-Gon had sent me on it alone, as preparation for my trails, which both Qui-Gon and I recognized that I would be ready to face soon. Yet, it turned out to be rather complicated.
A little more than two days ago now, Qui-Gon had sought me out during my typical morning meditation in the soothing Room of a Thousand Fountains, slipped down on a rock beside me, and explained to me that Darsha Assant, a female Padawan my age, had gone missing in the course of her trail of ferrying a Black Sun gang member witness from a safehouse in the Crimson Corridor, a region in the underbelly of Coruscant's equatorial area where the sun really never shines, and an invading herd of banthas would be constituted as gentrifying the neighborhood, to the Jedi Temple, so that he could testify against a bunch of his fellows in the court of law. In theory, this was a routine mission, but she had obviously blundered somehow if she had disappeared, and her Master, Anoon Bondara, had apparently gone after her, and had vanished, as well.
When Master Qui-Gon provided me with this update, I immediately volunteered to embark on a search for them, not only because it was my duty as a fellow Jedi to rescue them if possible, but also because I had immense respect for the skills of Master Bondara, who is a brilliant warrior, and I was fairly close to Padawan Assant. Although we were not best friends like Bant Eerin, Garen Muln, Reeft, and even Siri Tachi, and I are, she had been in many of my classes, and I had always been impressed with her quick wit, and her mind, which was sharper than a vibroblade. We had talked to each other regularly at the Temple between missions, and we had sparred twice with her winning the first match, and me emerging the victor from our second duel. I had looked forward to cooperating with her on future missions, but that, obviously hadn't been the will of the Force, for I had discovered that both Darsha Assant and Master Anoon Bondara had perished in the course of their mission, and the Black Sun informant had died as well, meaning that they had not been able to fulfill their final mission, either, which was even worse, especially because I couldn't shake off the conviction that I was missing something important…
"You're brooding again." Qui-Gon's mildly amused and gently chastising voice dragged me out of my musings.
"Sorry, Master," I mumbled, shaking my head, as I returned to the present moment, which, as Qui-Gon would assert, is the crucial moment. "I was just thinking about my last assignment― I can't banish the feeling that I'm missing something terribly important, that I'm groping blindly in the dark, but some hidden truth is only inches away from my fingers, yet I can't see it, and so I miss it due to the lack of illumination."
"Deaths often have a disorienting effect upon us," noted my Master. "Therefore, it is nothing to fret about."
"Sorry, Master," I mumbled, shaking my head, as I returned to the present moment, which, as Qui-Gon would assert, is the crucial moment. "I was just thinking about my last assignment― I can't banish the feeling that I'm missing something terribly important, that I'm groping blindly in the dark, but some hidden truth is only inches away from my fingers, yet I can't see it, and so I miss it due to the lack of illumination."
Their deaths are so distressing, because I sense that they conceal something critical, but I have no notion as to what, and so, to me, their deaths are still essentially pointless, since they never succeeded in their primary objective. However, I didn't establish any of this aloud, partly because I was aware it sounded disrespectful to the deceased, and partly because I have never been awesome at expressing myself verbally, especially when I'm aiming to express my feelings. I have feelings as complex as just about anybody else, but I have difficulty sharing them with others, even my mentor, whom I trust absolutely.
Perhaps, my thoughts broadcasted themselves partially via our Force-bond, though, for he educated me, "No death is meaningless, as those who pass away merely become one with the Force." Here, he paused to extend his heavy, callused hands for my inspection. "Look at my hands, Obi-Wan. Everybody thirsts for the hope of something after death, which is why just about every culture I've ever encountered has a religion of some type, and, indeed, there is an afterlife, for one becomes one with the Force by dissolving like cream mixed into steaming stimcaf. These hands have been knit into shape by the universe, will hold it for a few score years, and then lose it again, surrendering to the power of the Force that ties us all together." He nodded at the space flickering by outside the transparisteel. "Even those stars we're flashing by that glitter so vibrantly now will eventually burn out. Such is the way of the Force."
"And, in the end, entropy will triumph completely," I murmured, reciting by rote the arguments of many a scientist. "Black holes will swallow all heat and light― all enthalpy― and, ultimately, devour themselves, as well, and, then, the universe will become infinitely cold and devoid of life and light. I can't help but wonder if enthalpy is the Light Side, and entropy the Dark, Master."
"Either way, your duty is still the same, Padawan. You must serve the Force as best you can, and that is all you need concern yourself with." After scrutinizing me closely with his keen light blue eyes, he asked, "Are you prepared to contact the Jedi Council, and fill them and me in on what exactly occurred on your last assignment?"
"Yes, Master." Although I did not wish to discuss this topic, I was as ready to do so now as I would ever be, so I bobbed my head in assent, and switched on the holocam, and entered in the code for the Temple.
Half an hour later, I had detailed how, after receiving my mission, I had descended by speeder bike to the coordinates the Council had provided of the safehouse, where the Black Sun informant had temporarily resided, and how I had found the remains of Darsha's speeder there. Speaking with a local, I had learned that the man Darsha had been responsible for transporting had been killed, so, suspecting that Black Sun had eliminated one who would betray them, I headed over to the gang's headquarters.
There, I explained, I discovered that the vigo, or crime overlord, had been murdered, possibly indicating that another coup was occurring within the illegal organization, and nobody had witnessed the vigo's assassination, or had seen Darsha or Master Bondara. Since I still operated under the assumption that Darhsa and Master Bondara were alive, I interviewed locals, I told the Council and Qui-Gon, and heard how beings that matched the descriptions of the two missing Jedi had been chased by a mysterious cowled figure in a swoop of the type that I later discovered had been stolen from the law enforcement, how Master Bondara had battled the cloaked individual and had been killed in the endeavor, and how the vehicle the Jedi were in had crashed.
When I examined the location of the crash, however, I felt nothing to indicate that Darsha had died with Master Bondara, and so I continued to search for her. During my looks about the city, I spotted a crime scene being investigated not far from where the pair of Jedi had last been seen. The building being investigated was an old, abandoned factory, where they had been some sort of explosion. In the debris, I uncovered the remains of Darsha's lightsaber, which I had recognized only due to its distinctive handle, but I had unearthed nothing to indicate that she lived on, and I felt in the Force the void of her absence.
At this juncture, a lump formed in my throat as I told this tale. Speaking of Darsha's death made it undeniably real, and that sliced me, since I found it challenging to accept that so much promise could be murdered in a brief time span. Darsha would have made a fine Jedi, and it was unfair that she had been stolen from the galaxy before she could contribute more to it.
Still, I managed to maintain composure as Yoda, Mace Windu, and the rest of the Council asked me questions that elicited more specific data from me. It was only when they terminated the transmission that I exhaled deeply, and leaned further back in my chair.
"Not every mission ends badly," observed Qui-Gon, attempting to pull me away from mourning for Darsha, since attachment isn't the way of the Jedi. A Jedi ought to rejoice for those who have entered the Force, instead of grieving for them. Grief was indicative of possession, and demonstrated that one was foolishly setting one's own selfish desires against the greater good of the all-pervading and omnipotent Force, which was a dangerous, self-destructive path that no Jedi should ever traverse. "Remember our first official mission together? Surely, you can't have forgotten Paaxi and Guerra?"
"I haven't forgotten them, Master." I couldn't contain a grin at the thought of the two vexing criminal brothers who had shipwrecked us in order to trap us on their homeworld of Phindar, so that we could rescue their plant from the clutches of the crime dictatorship that restricted access to food and medicinal supplies for civilians. "I'm glad that they're both the patriarchs of large families now."
"I couldn't have forgotten them, anyway, even if my memory had been successfully wiped by the Syndicrat," I amended, recalling how the crime organization had believed it had wiped my memory, even though, through employment of the Force, I was able to prevent such a disastrous outcome, which explained how I had survived my stint on the neighboring planet Gala, which was torn by strife between its three tribes, where I had been released after my supposed memory wipe. "Besides, that wasn't our first official mission together, Master, since the Council did not actually authorize it."
"By that standard, half of our missions together don't count," chuckled Qui-Gon.
"Yes, we can cross anything pertaining to Didi off our list of official missions." I referred to our troublemaking buddy, who was the proprietor of a cafe on Coruscant, and who had a tendency to seek our assistance whenever he discovered himself in over his head with the lowlifes he persisted on associating with. When Qui-Gon first introduced me to him, I instantly wrote him off as yet another vagrant that my Master, due to the excesses of his Living Force connection, believed it was worthwhile to deal with, despite what everyone else perceived, but, over time, I had come to appreciate Didi Oddo for his cheeriness, and connections to the city and criminal grapevines of Coruscant.
Qui-Gon smiled at me, and began a remembrance of one of Didi's numerous exploits. Before either of us were aware of it, we were exchanging memories of a thousand experiences on a hundred missions we had gone on as a team. We had never chattered this much on a trip to a planet before, because neither of us are into lengthy conversation, and so our bond is more centered around quiet companionship and silent communication, however, Qui-Gon was in a rare talkative mood, and that made me want to chat, as well.
I surmise that both knew that my time as an apprentice was drawing to a conclusion, even if neither of us acknowledged as much aloud, because we simply didn't need to as we were that attuned to each other, and neither of us wished to forget the special moments we had shared. Reliving these adventures made me somewhat reluctant to face the trails, especially after what had happened to Darsha during hers.
Sure, I believed that that I was capable of passing the trials, and would be a competent Jedi, even if there was still much I could learn from my instructor, but I was not eager to leave the protection and guidance afforded by my relationship with Qui-Gon, because I felt an overpowering sense of friendship and loyalty, and I was loath to be separated from him. Yet, that wasn't the Jedi way. I would have to overcome my attachment, or it would be my undoing.
I had just determined as much when the pilot flipped off the lights, hinting that we should rest, and I knew, intellectually, that we ought to go to the sleep area, and snooze, or at least meditate, on the sleep coaches there, for we might not have another opportunity to do so for standard days, but, alas, there was an emotional overrule that occurred in my muscles that rendered it impossible for me to move.
Possibly, Qui-Gon harbored similar sentiments, for he remained stationary, as well, so the two of us just sat quietly in our chairs, comfortable and content in each other's presence, and feeling no compulsion to speak now that all our memories had been swapped.
In the silent darkness, the question that had hovered in the back of my mind for months, as I approached the trials, arose to the forefront of my brain, and this time, before I could halt them, the words tumbled out, "Master, can you tell me something I'm lacking― something that I cannot see that I need to work on?"
"Do you mean a flaw, Padawan?" Even though I could not discern his face clearly in the dark that enveloped us like a veil, I was able to envision his arching his eyebrows at me, since I was more familiar with his facial expressions than I was with my own, as Jedi don't condone gazing into mirrors all that often. A Jedi should concern himself or herself with more pressing matters than his or her physical appearance, and I daresay that vanity is not likely to be my downfall.
"Yes," I agreed, deciding that the succinct definition he had proposed was perfectly functional, illustrating once again that I'm no wordsmith. Not wanting him to list weaknesses I already was aware of since I wished to learn of shortcomings that I did not recognize in myself, and, therefore, could not defend myself against, I elaborated, "You have told me that I worry too much, and I've tried to work on that."
"Ah, you mean that you've worried about worrying too much?" The lightly teasing quality in my Master's tone stated all too plainly that this was an amusing scenario that only I could perform.
"I can be impatient with living beings, too," I went on, still in a serious tone, because we were, after all, discussing my faults, which is a grave affair, although I could feel my lips quirking upward at his words, since when he phrased it in such a simplistic fashion, I realized that what I'd been doing amounted to just that, which was ironic. "I know that, and sometimes I'm a little too confident of my abilities, perhaps."
"These things are true, Obi-Wan," conceded Qui-Gon in a somber voice, because, apparently, my persistent seriousness had finally impacted him, "but they are not flaws. I have seen how hard you have worked, and I've witnessed what you can accomplish."
"Then what is my flaw?" I frowned, thinking that his assessment resembled praise more than a critical analysis.
At this point, Qui-Gon hesitated for such a considerable amount of time that I imagined that he had fallen asleep, despite my anxiousness to hear my worst shortcoming. Still, I didn't pursue the issue, as I had learned over the years of my apprenticeship to the man that he would reveal everything in his own time, and no measure of insistence would wrangle a word out of him if he didn't want to say it. Finally, he commented softly, "You will be a great Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I know that with every beat of my heart, with every breath I take. You will make me proud that I was present at your beginnings." Again, he paused to gather his thoughts as though they were leaves that had been scattered in a windstorm, while I basked in the glow of his praise, and then he resumed, "If you do have a flaw, perhaps it is simply this: you wish to please me too much."
When he announced as much, I was glad that the lights were switched off, because I gawked at him, as if I had never laid eyes upon him before, although he was probably able to read my astonishment through our Force bound, anyway. I had never considered my desire for my Master to approve of my behavior as a fault of mine. After all, what sort of pupil would I be if I set out to disappoint my mentor?
Still, I could recall plenty of times when we had argued, because he insisted on defying the Council's edicts thanks to his championing of the Living Force, whereas I had wished to observe the dictates of the Council, being more grounded in the Unifying Force, and I doubted that I would have been able to contradict him if I had been obsessed with earning his approval, but, doubtlessly, Qui-Gon comprehended what he was talking about loads better than I did, for his prodigious Living Force abilities permitted him insight into human emotions that I could not hope to possess, even if I was dealing with myself. In this instance, I would defer to my Master, therefore, as I usually did. After all, wasn't his analysis of my greatest fault in harmony with my own revelation that I was too attached to him?
Yes, it was, which meant that I must cure myself of my need to gain my Master's approval, and my desire to always remain by his side. I must learn to be comfortable without him, since that is the will of the Force, and the way of the Jedi, and I must comply, meaning that I may as well do so wholeheartedly.