Disclaimer: George Lucas owns all the recognizable characters. Anareal is mine. ( pronounced Ah - NAR -ee- al, an African name meaning strength and peace) Making no money off this and if I was I'd spend it all on Star Wars stuff and George and would get it anyway.
My Comfort, my shelter - Tower of refuge and strength…. (Christian hymn)
(One Year Later. Anareal is 5)
At first, Qui-Gon was not sure why he had woken. He lay there in the dark, completely attuned to the Force around him and waited for guidance. Then, like a small wave lapping at the shore, he felt it again. Anareal. Her Force presence was tingling with fear.
Qui-Gon rose instantly, drawing on the Force for calm. But Light help him, not another nightmare. Could the Darkside never leave that child in peace?
He went to her room and turned the light on low with a flick of his fingers. Anareal was tossing on her bed, her covers in a pile on the floor. Qui-Gon knelt on the floor beside her and gently placed his hand on her head, letting the calming power of the Force flow between them. He stroked her hair, smoothing the silky satin strands back into place. Her tossing ceased and gradually, her breathing quieted. The tiny creases of fear disappeared from her face. He continued to let the Force pulse around them like a heartbeat, slow and at peace.
For a moment, it seemed that he had managed to soothe her back to sleep. Then she gave a soft little cry and her green eyes flickered open. She seemed confused by where she was at first, but then her gaze came to rest on his face and she sat up abruptly. Wrapping her slim arms around his neck, she said, " Qui-Gon."
Her voice trembled with relief.
Qui-Gon rose to sit on the edge of her bed and gathered her close to him. She snuggled in and whispered, " You were bleeding."
Qui-Gon frowned over the top of her head. " Another bad dream?"
She nodded and took a long, shuddering breath. He shifted her weight more comfortably against him, bringing her head to rest in the hollow of his shoulder. He let the Force continue its peaceful flow. Qui-Gon had long ago discovered where Anareal had learned about anger and aggression. The Darkside had revealed itself in her dreams and visions.
" Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked," Or do you just want me to stay with you?"
There was a long pause and he could feel her weighing the frightening images of her dream against the security of his presence. Outside the muffled noises of Coruscant at night surrounded their building, but their quarters were dark except for the dim light in her room spilling into the hall. Anareal leaned into him.
" We were in a fight," she said, finally," You had your lightsabre and I had one too but I couldn't see me."
" Mmm-hmm," his voice was softly encouraging.
She paused, thinking hard," There was someone else with us, too."
" The being we were fighting?" Qui-Gon suggested.
" No, I couldn't see them. But I could feel them, a lot of them. The other person was a boy. I could see his face and he was dressed like an apprentice, but I couldn't tell who it was. We were standing behind you, protecting you and we had been fighting but now we were just standing and you were talking."
It was late at night and Qui-Gon was tired. He had been more concerned with quieting her fears than with really listening to her, but now he knew. Another cursed nightmare.
" You were telling them to surrender and that you would help them," she knelt up and faced him, some of the fear slipping back onto her face." But you were hurt. There was blood everywhere. I was scared." Her eyes went to his left shoulder. Her hand plucked at his shirt. " Your shoulder was torn open, shredded."
Qui-Gon brushed his fingers down the side of her face. She was too young, her control of the Force still too raw to help her process this kind of a vision.
"Was the dream-you afraid?" he asked," or are you just afraid now?"
A small frown of concentration appeared on her face, creasing her eyes to slits as she chewed on her lower lip.
" No, in the dream I wasn't scared. I just wanted to protect you. I didn't want you to be hurt any more. I just wanted them to listen to you so that you could stop bleeding."
" It's no wonder that it frightened you," he said, keeping his tone level." I'm very proud that the dream-you wasn't frightened."
" It couldn't happen could it?" she asked, her voice trembling with anxiety. " Nothing can hurt a Jedi Master."
Qui-Gon sighed. He had a sudden brief flash of battles he'd fought and friends he'd lost. He reached for her again, sliding his hand down her Padawan braid and resting it on her shoulder.
" The Force gives us remarkable abilities, Anareal. But we are all flesh and blood. If we are cut, we bleed."
" But..."
He put his forefinger against her lips. " We all have different strengths through the Force. One of mine is the ability to heal. All the Jedi can do it, some of us better than others. If I were to suffer an injury like you saw in your dream, I would recover given the time."
" How?" she demanded.
" It's a deep sleep, some call it a trance, in which we use the Force to speed the body's natural healing process."
" Will you teach me how to do it?"
" Yes."
" Now?"
Qui-Gon smiled," No, not now."
" Why-y-y?" she sounded very disappointed.
" Because it's the middle of the night, and I'm tired. We need to go back to regular sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow. You're scheduled to begin your classes with Master Rane'Yo."
He moved as if to get up and Anareal clutched at his sleeve.
" May I sleep in your room?," a ghost of her fear tinged her voice and flickered in her eyes.
Qui-Gon sighed. They had been here before. " I can stay with you until you fall asleep," he said.
She bit her lip again," But I want to be with you. If I wake up you'll be gone."
Qui-Gon almost sighed again. No one had told him how hard it would be to have an apprentice this young. He had become her security, not just her teacher. He knew that he could soothe her back to sleep, possibly he could even block any more visions from disturbing her that night. Most importantly he should teach her to control her fear. But if she did wake up alone, the memory of being abandoned would stay with her for a long time. He had worked hard to earn her trust.
The Council wouldn't like the idea. Light, if they ever found out they would hate it. But Qui-Gon was the one sitting here looking into her anxious, hopeful eyes. Could the most hard-hearted amongst the Council members tell her no? Qui-Gon didn't think so.
" Just for tonight," he said. He knew he didn't mean it. There would be other nights, and she knew it, too.
The relief on her face was palpable. She skipped ahead of him to his sparsely furnished room, waving her hand to turn on his light. The Jedi Master had few creature comforts but one thing Qui-Gon had indulged in was an over-sized sleeping couch. He settled himself on his side, pressing his back against the cushions and making room for her in front of him.
But Anareal didn't come straight to the sleeping couch, just as he had known she wouldn't. She went and got a low stool, which she carried over to the wall where Qui-Gon's robe hung from a peg. Standing on tiptoe, she pulled it down and dragged it across the floor. Qui-Gon helped wrap her in it, cocoon-like, and then she curled up with her back against his chest. She rested her head on his arm and gave a deep, contented sigh. Before Qui-Gon could gesture for the light to go out, she was asleep.
Qui-Gon looked out into the quiet dark for a while, listening to the soft sound of her breathing. He could feel the slight weight of her against him, fear banished, completely at peace as she slept.. No, the Jedi Council would not approve. But right now, Qui-Gon found that he really didn't give a damn.
