Work Text:
The meditation room was bathed in the gold of the setting Coruscanti sun, as two Jedi masters convened on a grave topic. The two faced each other across a room of grave-still air, all sound suspended in light of their contemplations. Mace Windu spoke first.
“Master Yoda, we cannot force Qui-Gon to release the boy. The greater the push, the greater his resistance.”
Yoda hummed, bobbing his head in acknowledgement. His clawed hands rested, folded, atop his gimer stick.
“Hmmm, known for his stubbornness, young Qui-Gon is. Matters not, matters not. A simple press, he needs, to open his eyes.”
A sharp intake of breath sounded from Mace.
“With all due respect, we’re not talking about a young Padawan hiding a bantha pup in his quarters. This is about the fate of potentially the greatest Jedi this order has ever seen, and a boy led here on false hope. It’s a fragile destiny we hold here in our hands.” He murmured.
Mace had tried to search the Force for the nudges that Qui-Gon seemed to attuned to, but indeed, in roiled and writhed as it had for some time, obscuring the future from view. Even opening his eyes to the potential of shatterpoints yielded little result; everything was in motion, constantly swirling from one state to the next. He couldn’t help but wonder if Qui-Gon’s foundling had anything to do with it, if his midichlorian potential was even half what his friend had told the Council.
The sharp prod of Yoda’s stick in his shin dragged his attention back to the present, where Yoda had narrowed his eyes at him.
“Know this very well, I do. Many mistakes I have made, on my way here. Reveal everything, the Force cannot; only experience can teach the rest. An ultimatum, I believe our Master Jinn needs.”
Mace frowened and leaned forward, eyes and tone intent.
"Master, do not do this. I have known Qui-Gon since we were younglings - if you ask him to make this choice, he will choose to do what he believes the Force wishes, and Obi-Wan will suffer for it."
"Presented with this choice, Qui-Gon has been once before. Choose, he did, his padawan."
"Barely. And might I say not a tad begrudgingly."
Yoda shook his head, sighing heavily.
"Hmmm. Decided, I have. My trust I have placed with the Force. The right thing, he will do, I believe."
Mace tried once more
"Master, please-"
"Preoccupied, you are, with things that have not yet come to pass. Unbefitting for a Jedi master, it is."
Mace bowed his head in contrition, but couldn’t stop one traitorous thought sneaking through his head.
I have a bad feeling about this.
Qui-Gon had survived, because of course he had. Mace would never deny his dear friend his life, would grieve in an un-Jedi like fashion should it happen before him. But he couldn’t help but frown at the duo that stood before them now – Yoda had requested that Anakin not be present for this; whatever would come to pass today, would be decided by his seniors either way, so there was no need to subject the boy to the tensions that were already pressing into the room alongside the present Jedi.
Almost all the council were convened, barring the few away on missions, and all were tense, from core to extremities. Before them stood Qui-Gon, standing tall despite the undoubtably painful remnants of the wound in his side that his brief dip in bacta hadn’t healed up completely; Mace could see the stark white bandages peeking out from the v of his tunics. Beside him was his still-padawan, trying to look as cool and unruffled as his master – but Obi-Wan was still young for his race, his maturity not so solid as to hide his own discomfort, doubt, restlessness. It showed in his shifting feet and the occasional flicker of grey eyes towards Qui-Gon, who didn’t return the glance.
The Master seemed totally as one with the Force.
Yoda cleared his throat, rapping on the floor with his stick once.
“Gathered here, we have, to pass judgement on the predicament, presented to us by this Jedi. Already told you of our thoughts, we have, Master Jinn. Time, you have had, to consider your own position in this.”
He didn’t blink as he stared down his padawan’s Padawan. Qui-Gon returned it.
“Yes. You do not want the boy to be trained, but the Force, and so I, insist. There really is nothing the Council can do to stop me.” He spoke frankly, unflinchingly, confident in his expectation that the Council would once again let him have his way – that Obi-Wan would be knighted, and he would have his too-old, too-world weary, too-burdened apprentice.
As Yoda sighed and waved his had at him, Mace stood, taking a deep breath as he folded his hands before him. He didn’t look at Obi-Wan, who he could sense was trying to warn Qui-Gon off challenging the Council any further. He also didn’t look at his fellow Jedi Masters, many of whoms discontented murmuring quickly died down to nothing as he prepared to speak.
"We give our final verdict to you, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn; you will either release the boy Anakin Skywalker, to the care of respectable persons outside the order, or you will take him on, in consequence repudiating, and casting out of the temple, your padawan of twelve years, Obi-Wan Kenobi. This is your choice - what is your response?"
He heard Obi-Wan let out a gasp before tamping it down and he couldn’t help but glance at him; he had quick reflexed, Mace noted with a twinge of unhappiness. Neither he nor Qui-Gon has expected his entire Jedi-hood to be put on the line like that, but already the Padawan had slammed down a blank, emotion-less mask, standing stock-still. As for Qui-Gon-
As he looked at his friend, his face had paled, ashen, his wild brows furrowed. There was a moment of shocked silence from him, before he swirled his jaw, as though repressing words he wished to speak. Mace could very well imagined what they would be. Instead, Qui-Gon’s lip snarled as he spoke.
“Master Yoda…Council…Mace…despite our many…differences over the years, I had not- could not, imagine you to be so cruel.”
“Cruel, we are not. Merely highlighting your own proposition, we are.”
“High- I am not suggesting to throw my Padawan out of the Order! Knight him, for Force s-“
“Simply Knight a Padawan at the spontaneous whim of his Master, we cannot, more so in order simply to open up his spot for new occupation.” Yoda spoke with a harsh tone so unlike his usual demeanour.
Qui-Gon gaped.
“It wasn’t a- a whim. Neither was it spontaneous! I had been considering him for Knighthood for a while!”
“Spoke to nobody about it, you did. Mention it, you did not. Submit his record for assessment, you did not. Convenient then, your timing is.”
“Con-!” Qui-Gon bit off his sentence, folding his arms inside of his sleeves and ducking his head, centring himself in the Force. He let out a long, slightly shaky breath. When next he spoke, his words were level, even though his brow furrowed like a crumpled flimsy.
“I cannot simply turn away Anakin, Masters, I made a promise.”
“Yes, you did.” Mace said unsympathetically. He nodded his head towards the silent Obi-Wan, who was now finding an interesting piece of ceiling to immerse his attention in. “You made a promise when you took Padawan Kenobi on as your apprentice – you swore to teach him until he could learn from you no longer. You swore to honour your bond. You swore to defend him to your best ability. You made a promise to your apprentice first.”
Qui-Gon swallowed hard, then turned to Obi-Wan.
“Obi-Wan, I-“
His apprentice didn’t look at him. He turned back to the Council, a pleading look on his normally stoic face.
“Do not ask this of me. You know what I must say.” He whispered.
Mace just looked at him.
“The choice is simple, Qui-Gon. My friend, make the right choice.”
An expectant silence fell over the chamber as it seemed even the Force held its breath waiting for Qui-Gon’s answer.
After what felt like eternity had passed, he finally took a deep breath.
“I choose the Force. I choose…Anakin.”
Shock rippled through the Council – Yoda’s eyes briefly widened from their normal half-lidded state before he composed himself again. There was an almost imperceptible tightening of his hands on his stick. Mace could do nothing but sigh in his head; he had warned the elderly Master, he had told him and what he expected had come to pass. Indeed, experience seemed the greatest bracer when it came to Qui-Gon.
It was Plo Koon who spoke up first.
“You cannot be serious, Qui-Gon, you-“
Qui-Gon whipped around to him, something heavy trickling into his Force signature. The air seemed to get thicker around him.
“You drove me to this. Are you satisfied now?” He addressed the chamber through his teeth.
In contrast, Yoda moved to stand, his movements slow and calm and deliberate. He landed on the polished tiles with a small skitter of claws, and the tak-tak of his stick as he slowly walked up to Qui-Gon. Everyone was quiet as the diminutive master finally stood at Qui-Gon’s feet; even so much smaller of stature, there was no doubt who of the two was the disapproving guardian.
“Your final decision, this is?” Yoda’s tone was quiet, but it seemed to ring out amongst the assembly.
“It is and I beg you do not ask me again.”
It was as though a great sadness passed through Yoda’s green eyes in the space of a split-second, so fast one could almost believe their mind to have tricked them to see it. He shook his head.
“Leave us.”
When Qui-Gon did not move, he shoved at the taller man’s legs with his stick, his tone suddenly louder and laced with steel.
“In favour with the Council you are not, Master Jinn. Do well you would to heed our orders now – leave. Us.”
“What of my pa- Obi-Wan?”
“He’s not your concern any longer. We’ll let you know young Skywalker’s status at a later date.”
It was a clear dismissal from Mace. Of all the sets of eyes now boring into Qui-Gon, the one he wished to see did not move from their heavenly perusal. He felt the pressure and, with one last, long look at his apprentice, as though worried it would be his last, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, left the Council chambers, the great doors closing behind him with a reserved boom.
Yoda turned to Obi-Wan, who was already pulling his lightsaber from his belt with almost mechanical movements. He knelt, and held out the tube to Yoda, who could only look back at him with compassion in his eyes. He put a green-clawed hand over the saber but did not take it.
“Young Kenobi…” He sighed.
Obi-Wan swallowed.
“Was I a fool, master? To think all these years- and now it has all come to nothing? I should have heeded the Force and stayed on Bandomeer. This, I suppose, is payment for my arrogance.” Every Master could see the young man struggling for composure, the words sticking in his throat.
“A shameful occupation, the AgriCorps is not, yet wish for you to be there, none of us do. Cast you out, we cannot. We will not.”
Obi-Wan’s head shot up.
“M-master?”
“Some truth in Qui-Gon’s words there were, for a cruel deception we wrought, but a deception it was. A test for Qui-Gon it was. Intended for you to lose your position and life here, we never did. Proud, the Order is of you. Forgive us for our words, you can?”
There was such a look of pure relief on Obi-Wan’s face, as though he were a prisoner seeing the sun for the first time in a decade, that Yoda’s heart ached for him. To his side, Mace also felt the guilt for the charade they had played up. But quickly that look of elation crumpled, and Obi-Wan hung his head as though in shame, to gaze at the floor tiles.
“Masters, I- I may not be worthy of your words. When we fought against the Sith apprentice, after Mast- Master Jinn was struck down, I was…overcome. My emotions ruled my actions. I felt it Masters. The Dark Side had some hold on me. Perhaps I do not deserve-“
Mace quickly walked over to Obi-Wan, pulling him up to a standing position from where he’d been kneeling. He grasped the young man by his shoulders, staring him firmly in the face.
“Listen to me, Obi-Wan; you are one of the brightest of the Order. There are many who never strayed close to the Dark because they never put anything on the line, never felt loss or sacrifice or protectiveness. A Jedi isn’t defined by their whole purity, but by the fact that we reject the Dark Side over and over again. We chose the Light, every day, every minute. You would be hard pressed to find a Jedi Master who has never slipped – but we always return. As will you. There is no fault of yours that will damn you in the eyes of this Council.”
“Stand tall, Obi-Wan Kenobi; a Master Anakin will have, and a Knight, you shall be.”