Rated: G
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.
Chapter 1
Qui-Gon was angry - not hot rage anger, not yet. This was cold anger. He had not been angry in a long time; and he had never been this angry in his life, not even years ago when that diplomat had called Master Yoda a little green troll.
He pushed the Force away from him, avoiding that temptation. Breath hissing through clenched teeth he allowed himself to seethe as he strode down the Temple hallway.
Beside him, struggling to keep up, was a little girl with green eyes that watched him with complete trust, and right now, a hint of confusion. Qui-Gon felt another rush of anger. He was quickly building to a flaming rage.
How could anyone…How dare anyone question his motives in regard to Anareal? It insulted his honor, his integrity, his character. For the Council to suggest……For any of them to have listened to such rumors…vile, baseless, insulting Darkness-cursed rumors.
They wanted him to move Anareal back to the dormitories. They were claiming that his living arrangement was 'inappropriate', that for Anareal's safety she should move back to the dormitories, so others could keep an eye on her. There was talk…..
Qui-Gon had never walked out on the Council without being dismissed - until today. He left before he forgot that he was a Jedi Master, before his anger got the better of him and he rained flashing green pain down on all eleven of them. Eleven, yes. Yoda had been conspicuously absent. That silent show of support from his own Master had been the only thing to keep him in check. But it certainly put Master Yoda's observation of Anareal's training and his questions about their 'fondness' for each other in another light. Qui-Gon had somehow managed to turn on his heels and stalk out without saying a word. Now he wondered if it would not have been better to at least give verbal vent to his outrage.
Now this. Anger frightened Anareal. He knew it and he still couldn't control it, didn't want to control it.
Qui-Gon realized that he had gotten several paces ahead of her and whirled around to wait for her. He stood waiting for her with his feet braced, shoulders back, hands curled into fists on his hips. It was a position that had made armed warriors scamper away from him with less dignity than scurries. Anareal halted hesitantly a few steps from him, looking up through her lashes.
" Have I done something wrong?" she asked." Are you mad at me?"
A vibro-blade in the heart would have hurt him less than the stab of pain that caused.
" No," he said, but he sounded harsh even to himself and he saw her swallow. Still, she ventured to ask timidly,
" Then why are you being so prickly?"
Because the Council certainly seems to think that I'm a prick, the thought flashed through his mind unbidden, shining a glaring a light on his lack of control.
" The Council thinks what?" Anareal asked.
Light! Shocked, he stared at her. Ice coiled in the pit of his stomach.
" Did you hear me just now?" he demanded.
" Yes," she answered," You said that the Council thinks…"
" I didn't say it," he cut her off sharply. Blessed Light and Cursed Darkness. " I only thought it. Did you hear it?"
Worried that now she had angered him, Anareal only nodded. Qui-Gon took a long, deep breath and when he exhaled it, some of the tension left his tall frame. He shook his head to clear it.
" Was it wrong? To hear it?" she asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper.
" No," he said," It just means our bond is strengthening. How long have you been able to hear my thoughts?"
" I didn't know I could until now. What's it mean? Why does the Council think you're…?"
" Anareal!" Qui-Gon stopped and made himself count to 10, in Rodian. Finally, he said, "Come here."
Obediently she crossed the distance between them and waited.
" I am angry," he said," though not at you. I need time to focus. Can you give me that time?"
The time wasn't hers to give and Anareal knew it. He was her Master, asking was his way of telling her to stand still and be quiet for a moment. Still, she nodded. Qui-Gon moved off down the hall and went out a door onto one of the many balconies.
It was midday. Coruscant was teeming around them, all light and movement and sound. It wasn't exactly the perfect environment for peaceful meditation, but he had little choice. Qui-Gon sank into a relaxed seated position with his back up against the plasteel wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Anareal go sit beside a potted plant. She seemed fine for the moment, unlikely to decide to jump off the balcony to see if she could fly anyway.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and emersed himself in the Lightside of the Force. He knew he was being ridiculous.(inhale) He was allowing the Council far too much control over him (exhale) - narrow-minded hypocrites.(inhale) He loved Anareal as the daughter of his heart(exhale) and anyone who thought differently was beneath his notice(inhale)……. ………..(exhale).
When he had banished his anger and he felt all the aggression draining out of him, he brought himself back to the moment and turned his head to look at Anareal.
She was still by the plant, a small mantis walker perched in the palm of her hand. She was talking to it, her voice was a soft murmur, like waves on the beach at night. If he hadn't felt at peace when he opened his eyes, the sight of her filled him with it.
Sensing his eyes on her, she looked up and smiled.
" You feel better" there was sunshine in her voice, a field of green and gold flowers bloomed in her eyes. It was a statement. She knew. The Master/Padawan bond was strengthening.
"Come here," he said, patting the cold floor beside him.
She put the insect back in the bush, whispering to it encouragingly as it left her hand and walked onto a leaf. She went over to kneel facing him.
" Now the Council won't think you're…"
"Anareal," Qui-Gon cut her off," Wait, I need to ask you a question." He paused to gather his thoughts, " Have you ever told anyone that I let you sleep with me after you've had a nightmare?"
Her response was immediate. She shook her head firmly, " No, never. I don't like to talk about my nightmares."
That was true. Qui-Gon frowned in concentration but she misread it.
" Is that why you're in trouble? Is it bad to do that?" she asked, anxiously.
Qui-Gon smiled at her, his expression soft and reassuring. He touched her face, brushing his thumb over her satin-smooth cheek.
" No, that's not why I'm in trouble," he said.
" Then why does the Council think…"
" Anareal!" he said, a little desperately," Don't…"
" Well why can't I say it?!" she asked, eyes bewildered," You did."
" I didn't say it. I only thought it," Qui-Gon reminded her.
" Then it's okay to think?" she asked.
"NO!" Qui-Gon was starting to realize that he was in over his head. Light shine on him, why did she ask so many questions?
" But I can still say prickly?" she blurted it out, quickly before he could stop her.
" Yes," he said, drawing the word out carefully while his brain rushed to keep up with her.
" But doesn't '-ly-' on the end of a word mean 'like a'? Brotherly means like a brother and I can say brother. Friendly means like a friend and I can say friend. So prickly means like a…"
"Anareal!" Qui-Gon was fighting back laughter. Light, she would be the death of him. Why did she have to be so smart? He made himself count to 10 again.
" At least tell me what it means," she begged." I don't like that the Council thinks you're one. Do you want me to go tell them that you're not?"
The image that produced in his head was his undoing. Anareal calmly and fiercely explaining to the vaunted Jedi Council that her Master was not….
Qui-Gon drew up his knees, folded his arms and dropped his head forward onto them, shoulders shaking uncontrollably. Anareal watched him in puzzlement for a moment.
" Master, are you crying?" she asked, voice thick with genuine worry. She reached up to touch the silky strands of the hair laying on his shoulder.
Qui-Gon looked up at her, managed to draw a strangled breath and put his head back against the wall, helplessly laughing.
" No," he said, at last, gasping for breath, " But I should be."
It was his own fault. He had encouraged her curiosity, promised that he would never lie to her, made her fiercely loyal to him by proving to be fiercely loyal to her.
" Anareal," he said, when he had regained control," It means someone who isn't very nice, someone who would hurt people, someone who is angry."
The more he explained, the deeper grew the frown of disapproval on her face.
" But you aren't any of those things," she said," Well, maybe angry. You were very angry."
" Yes, I was," he agreed, " The Council wants me to move you back to the children's wing."
Anareal's eyes went wide, " Leave the garden? Leave you? Master, I don't want to."
" Neither do I," he assured her. " I would never let you go. I told you that you belong to me now."
It comforted her, but then her eyes narrowed. " That wouldn't make you angry. You'd just tell them no. You were very angry. What else did they say?"
He had promised....promised, never to lie to her. He had given her his word as a Jedi Master. But Light help him, she was seven.
He took a deep breath. " They thought I would hurt you."
Anareal looked shocked. She stared at him, open-mouthed.
" You would never hurt me," she whispered, ice dripping from her words, "How could they think that? Why would they think that?"
"There isn't anything that should make them think that I would hurt you. That's why I was so angry. They questioned my judgement, my values, my feelings for you, my honor…"
" No wonder you were furious,' she murmured. She knew how much he hated having his judgement questioned.
" Yes, I was," Qui-Gon admitted," We all get angry, Anareal. It makes us say things and do things, and think things, that we shouldn't. The important thing is to never use the Force in anger. You must remember that."
" Is that why I could hear you?" she asked," Because I was using the Force and you weren't?"
" That's a very insightful observation," Qui-Gon told her.
" And are you ever going to tell me what that word means? I know it's a noun. It's a thing, isn't it?"
Blood seemed to roar in Qui-Gon's ears. " Anareal!"
"Well, it's not a person or place," she said, reasonably.
Oh, that was what she meant.
" Would you tell me if I was older?" she asked.
Qui-Gon looked up, feeling a glimmer of hope. There might yet be a way out of this." If I promise to tell you when you're older, will that be good enough?"
She looked at him doubtfully, " How old?"
" Nineteen," he said immediately.Anareal frowned at him, clearly not happy. "Sixteen," she said.
" Eighteen," he responded," And that isn't negotiable."
" Yes, Master," she said, with a gloomy sigh.
Qui-Gon unfolded his long frame and stood up, beckoning for her to join him. He started to leave, but she said, " I have to say good-bye to my friend."
For a moment he had no idea what she was talking about, but she skipped over to the potted plant and bent over to whisper something to the mantis walker. Then she came back and slipped her hand into his.
Walking down the hall again, there was a lightness to her step. She was almost skipping.
" Master, what exactly did the Council think you'd do to hurt me?" she asked.
Qui-Gon bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming. After a moment of teeth- grinding silence, she said, " You aren't going to tell me that either, are you?"
" When you're older," he replied.
" How old?" she demanded.
"Twenty-five."
" Master!" she wailed.
" Not negotiable," he said, eyes straight ahead, " Don't ask again."
Anareal gave another frustrated, gloomy sigh, " Yes, Master," she said.
Chapter 2
The next day, Qui-Gon told Anareal to pack for an extended trip. When she asked where they were going, she was told only that they were going far from this Force-Forsaken ball of plasteel. Asking what she needed to bring, she was told simply "Everything".
Now they were on board a shuttle streaking through hyperspace. He still hadn't told her where they were going. He wanted to surprise her. But in the meantime, lessons continued.
Anareal was standing on one foot, holding absolutely still. Around her floated a stone, a pillow and the hilt of his lightsabre. She had been there for almost an hour. He was pleased.
Qui-Gon walked over to her. She lifted her eyes to meet his but didn't move a muscle. Qui-Gon gave her one of his almost-invisible smiles,a smile more in his eyes than anywhere else, encouraging, proud and a little mischievous. He placed a small box on the top of her head.
" Hold it there," he said, letting it go. It wobbled, "Hold it." he admonished. The box steadied. " Now. Tell me what's in the box and you can have it."
Pure frustration leaped into her eyes. " How?" she wailed," The Force can't help me see through walls."
Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. Anareal sighed. He wouldn't tell her anything until she got her frustration under control. The stone wobbled and nearly fell. She closed her eyes and drew on the Force. The objects she held aloft steadied. The box seemed to be burning a hole through the top of her head, but she ignored it. She opened her eyes again and studied him calmly.
" I know what's in the box," he said.
It took her a moment to understand. " You mean, I should try to take the thought from your mind?" she asked.
" Try?" he asked, voice whisper-soft. Anareal winced. She wasn't allowed to say 'try'.
" Do or do not," she said," There is no try."
Qui-Gon nodded," Don't drop anything," he said. Anareal almost sighed again. Qui-Gon suppressed a smile. Light, would her face ever grow big enough to hold her eyes?
Then he felt her featherlight touch against his thoughts. He relaxed, made it easier for her. Having Anareal in his thoughts was a lot like having a mouse scampering around in a pantry. If there were places he didn't want her to go, the lids had better be on tight. She pressed up against one of those places and he turned her away gently. A quickly suppressed ripple of frustration, followed by a gloomy sigh, brushed against his thoughts.
Qui-Gon noticed that his lightsabre hilt was dipping closer and closer to the floor. He sent her a visual image of it and it immediately leaped back into the air.
" Make it spin," he said.
Deep, deep sigh.
"Patience," he said, in a dangerous whisper.
His lightsabre began a leisurely spin in mid-air. Anareal continued to rummage around in his head. He sent her a warning to slow down. He felt her focus sharpen, her concentration narrow. She was getting closer. He tried a distraction.
" Turn the lightsabre on," he instructed.
HUMMMM...the sound filled the room. Her concentration never wavered.
" Candy!" she cried in triumph," There's candy in the box!"
" What kind?"
"Chocolate," she said, with confidence," My favorite, from that little store in our building."
He looked at her with quiet pride. " Put your foot down," he said. She did, her vivid eyes shimmering with delight." Shut down my lightsabre and send it back to me." She did. It hit his hand a bit too hard, but he didn't say anything. He had been 11 before he'd been able to accomplish what she just did. " Now the stone.....Now the pillow.........." he waited..............
If she squirmed, she'd wait longer and she knew it. Her control was amazing.
" Now the box," he said, " You've earned it."
" Yes!!" Pure childish delight. She tipped her head so that the box fell forward into her hands and then sat down on the floor right where she was. There was a note on the top of the box.
Anareal glanced up at him quizzicaly. She opened the small square of paper to find a message written in her Master's almost illegible scrawl. 'Well done. I knew you would succeed. I'm proud of you.'
She leaped up, ran to him and launched herself into his arms. Arms wrapped tight around him, pressing his hair against his neck, Anareal whispered,
" I love you, Qui-Gon."
A child's love surrounded him, pure and chaste, gentle and whole-hearted, innocence and joy; a healing salve glueing the pieces of his soul back together. He had caught her in his arms when she landed against him. From the floor to his neck was a long way, even for a Force-assisted leap. Now he hugged her back.
" I should buy you candy more often," he said.
She laughed and let go of his neck, held securely in his strong arms. She had the candy in her hand and now she tore off the wrapper and offered him the first bite. Qui-Gon shook his head.
" No, you earned it. I got it for you."
He set her on her feet and watched her eat. Bliss etched her face. She swallowed, swept a wayward piece into her mouth with a fingertip and smiled at him.
" Thank you, Master."
" You are welcome, Padawan."
He turned to head for the cockpit. They should be nearing their destination. Anareal skipped along beside him, finishing the last of her chocolate.
" Are you going to tell me where we're going now?" she asked.
" Don't you trust my judgement?"
" Oh, yes. I'm just curious."
" Patience, Padawan. Patience."
" Yes, Master.
TBC…
