Part 3

"MOM!"

Anakin sat up, blinking rapidly in the darkness. Nothing looked familiar. His heart was beating in his throat. He was going to throw up, but swallowed hard, pressing his twitching lips together.

"Padawan."

A strong hand touched his shoulder, grounding him in the Force.

Darlyn Bota. Outer Rim. Mission.

The mission was over.

Anakin rubbed his eyes. At last, reality materialized. They were on the ship, going home, getting away. It was not Shmi Skywalker leaning over him with motherly concern, giving off the warm, comforting scent of home.

It was Qui-Gon Jinn, attentive and Jedi-calm, waiting for him to speak.

"I'm sorry.." Anakin was embarrassed at the wobble in his own voice. He straightened, drawing his braid behind his shoulder and wiping his mouth.

With a flick of Qui-Gon's fingers, the cramped sleeping quarters were awash in silvery, artificial light. "I'm sorry as well, my apprentice."

Anakin didn't have to ask why. The mission. Posing as a Darlyn Bota slave owner and son. Having to pretend to be the sort of scum that still imprisoned his mother on Tatooine.

He scooted back into the corner of the cot and drew his knees up to his chest. The images from the dream were superimposed over his senses, bathing him in helplessness and fury.

But it wasn't a dream. It was a memory.

"My mom…" He whispered. Normally he tried not to mention her. She was so deeply engrained in his heart, he loved her so much, that it seemed a betrayal to mention her among Jedi. No attachments, after all.

Qui-Gon's expression softened. To his credit, the man never discouraged Anakin from talking about his mother or childhood. He squeezed Anakin's knee encouragingly.

Anakin's guts churned. How could it feel so fresh, years later? Why was he so easily transformed into that boy, without autonomy, without hope, again? "When we were…undercover…around that…scum" he spat out the word, "I kept thinking about her. If she's okay." Anakin wanted to believe that even with the worlds and years separating them, he would be able to sense if his mother was in serious danger.

But what if he couldn't?

"It is natural that this assignment would stir up feelings." Qui-Gon said.

"Yeah, but I'm not even supposed to HAVE feelings."

Qui-Gon gave a gentle laugh. "A Jedi experiences the same range of emotions as any other being. If we did not feel, we wouldn't be of much use to anyone. The key is to control dangerous emotions by releasing them to the Force."

Anakin stared ahead. It was easy for Qui-Gon to lecture about suppressing emotions. When had the Jedi Master ever watched his only parent cower under a slaver's whip? That wasn't the kind of anger that disappeared after a little meditation.

"I can't." He muttered.

"Look at me." The older Jedi commanded, but compassionately. He was always serene, with the reflection of water in his eyes, tranquil winds in his voice.

Anakin felt like a sandstorm. Grit and heat kicked up in a swirling maelstrom. Yet he obeyed his Master, looking at him, not bothering to mask his frustration.

"Holding onto anger only hurts yourself, Padawan. If you allow it to fester, eventually it will turn into hatred, and-

"I don't care. I DO hate them. They SHOULD be hated. I hate every slaver and I HATE Watto." Anakin's eyes didn't waver from his Master's. He wanted the man to see he wasn't ashamed of his feelings. His mother's face floated in his periphery. "I wish every one of them would die."

Qui-Gon seemed startled, disturbed. Anakin didn't care. He would never be like the other Padawans anyway.

"I understand why you would hate them. Slavers commit reprehensible acts, and they should be imprisoned for them. But hatred itself is a prison, Anakin." Qui-Gon clasped his arms, "The deeper you let your hatred grow, the more inescapable that prison becomes."

Anakin's whole body was on fire. "I get kriffing tired of Jedi platitudes." He countered.

Now Qui-Gon's tone hardened, though it remained quiet.. "I like to think we have a relationship, a friendship, where you feel comfortable sharing your frustrations with me. It's part of what makes our team strong. But do not forget that I am your Master."

Master. He'd been made to use that word long before his enrollment with the Jedi. Suddenly, he felt small, struggling against chains while his mother suffered. Anakin refused to be that slave boy again. He knew he was powerful, more so all the time, and in ways not even Qui-Gon was aware of.

Those feelings gathered around him, filled him, the fury so hot that it turned his voice cold when he said, "I'm also tired of hypocrites, MASTER."

Qui-Gon stood, drawing himself up to his impressive height. It's what he did when he wanted to intimidate someone. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. "What is that supposed to mean, my very young and foolishly obstinate apprentice?"

The rational part of Anakin pleaded with him to stop. He should stop. "It means you don't shield as good as you think you do."

Qui-Gon snorted and dropped his hands to his hips. "Is that so? Then explain to me exactly how I am a hypocrite. I'm very curious now."

He was probably expelled. Maybe he would go to some dungeon under the Temple. "You're always lecturing me about the dangers of emotions, how I'm not supposed to hate anyone. But you hate Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon took a step back.

Anakin just felt more emboldened, seeing the physical response."So how am I supposed to believe anything you say about that stuff? I mean, you're a great Jedi, you help lots of people, you teach me so much. Just because you hate someone that deserves it shouldn't automatically make you a bad Jedi, should it?"

Qui-Gon sat on the edge of the cot. Strips of silver light fell across his eyes. "Anakin, I don't…" He swallowed, "I don't hate Obi-Wan."

"I know you do, Master. Whenever someone mentions him it's like you fall into a black hole."

He couldn't sense the faintest reaction from Qui-Gon, not on his face and not in the Force. "I never said I had mastered my emotions perfectly. Not even Yoda can make that claim. We can merely strive to redirect the emotions when they surface." He glanced down at his hands, laced together between his knees, "But I want you to know…I do not hate him."

Anakin slowly nodded. The fight seemed to have bled out of him all at once, and now he was just tired. "I'm sorry, Master. The things I said were really dumb and wrong."

Qui-Gon smiled. His eyes were lighter, but weary. "Sharing your thoughts and feelings with me is never dumb, my Padawan. Although we WILL discuss, at length, the proper ways to converse about such things. For tonight, I think we shall rest."

Anakin smiled back. "Yes, Master."

The rangy man rose, turned down the lights and settled in his own narrow bunk.

Anakin laid back on his hard, flat pillow and stared up at the darkness. Relief rushed through him. He wasn't going to be shipped off after all. He knew other apprentices would be severely punished for the sort of outburst he had just leveled at his Master. Meanwhile Anakin suffered the smallest rebuke and promise of a future talk.

He crossed his arms behind his head and sighed. Was that one of the perks of being the Chosen One, a consolation for the loneliness?

Sometimes he longed to be a regular Padawan, the ones who seemed content to stand to the side and three steps behind, who seemed to sleep without dreams.

If Anakin could do those things, then maybe he could have listened to Qui-Gon's denial of feelings and believed him.

Anakin shifted. He watched his Master's outline. The Force was restless, like a grey sea. On its waves it carried the answer from teacher to student.

The answer Anakin felt in Qui-Gon's heart, despite the Code.

There is Hatred.

Anakin slept, and saw his mother again. She drew him into her arms. He could feel her roughhewn clothes against his cheek. The air was dry, and choked with sand.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you too." Because without hatred, how could there be love? Balance. Years ago, Qui-Gon had told the Council how important balance was in the Force.

He knew his Master was capable of love, which meant he was capable of hatred.

Anakin slipped further into the warmth.

There is Hatred.

Qui-Gon Jinn loved the natural world. He never felt more at ease than when his feet were in the dirt with the sun on his back. Coruscant was home but it was also sterile and uninspiring. He could only last in the Temple so long before he needed to be in a vibrant, earthy place.

But even he was beginning to hate stones.

Obviously they were meant to assemble a lesson from the ruined stairs. Yoda continued to watch them into the dawn with heavy-lidded eyes.

As far as unorthodox training sessions went, this was nowhere hear the worst Qui-Gon had endured…or issued, for that matter. But a niggling feeling persisted in the back of his mind.

A soft breeze blew across them at that moment. He breathed in, closing his eyes and letting the air center him.

"This is impossible," Anakin announced, pulling Qui-Gon out of his short reverie.

Dust covered the younger Jedi's dark tunics. Anakin was tall, almost as tall as Qui-Gon himself. The tow-headed, wiry boy from Tatooine was suddenly a man with serious eyes and a strong jaw.

Until he was annoyed. Then he was swiftly a child again, years of Jedi training evaporated. "There's no way to salvage this pfassk."

Qui-Gon ignored the curse and wiped his hands. Anakin, no matter how coarsely he worded it, was right. The ancient steps were beyond repair. Master and apprentice had tried to concoct a crude mortar from the elements of the forest available to them, but all it yielded was dirty fingernails and gentle laughter from Yoda. Even a liberal use of the Force could not bind the crushed stone.

"Irrevocably broken, then, is the path?" called the old Jedi.

They walked over to the shade tree, kneeling at the clawed feet of Master Yoda.. Qui-Gon looked at Anakin, nudging him to answer.

Anakin hesitated, mouth pressed to a brooding line, then "Yes, Master, I think so."

"Hmmm…." Long green ears lowered, "To the doors, how will you reach?"

More foreboding needled Qui-Gon's skin. He did not know what lay beyond the doors of the Ivus Temple, but their timeworn pattern was carving itself into his mind's eye: simple Jedi figures in combative stances and meditation poses. So few Jedi passed through this forgotten site. Would they only be greeted by specters of the Temple's past, the long-dead warrior muses for the massive stone doors?

Because nothing about this peculiar mission felt joyful, or alive. His head was too muddied for deep thought. He looked into Yoda's watery, vague gaze and was weighted with growing dread. How often did he encourage his Padawan to embrace the unknowns, and now he was almost writhing in impatience and worry, waiting for Yoda to get to the point.

"Well…" Anakin started, glancing over his shoulder, "I think I can just walk up to them, Master."

A small suggestion of a smile tugged at the corner of the withered lips. "Even broken?"

"I know I could." Quickly and fully confident.

"Then walk the steps, we shall."

The trio carefully ascended the mash of rock and dirt, staring ahead at the Temple doors.

Yoda sounded labored, though his movements were agile. His gimer stick tapped again and again on the steps. "Too far gone, these stairs are, to be restored. Too many years, too much decay."

Qui-Gon noticed bright green weeds growing up from patches of dirt among the stone. His heart lurched.

"But useful, even destroyed paths can be, if willing one is to walk them."

Qui-Gon briefly locked eyes with Anakin. His protégé appeared no less curious, a shared burst of wonder between them in the Force, as they finally stood before the temple doors.

He found himself extending fingers, to trace the grooves of the ancient carvings.

Master.

The most familiar of terms whispered to him, but Anakin was silent, as was their diminutive guide. The past, then, the Jedi from an era he never lived in a place he had never been, but still eternally linked to him, in the unifying Force, in this strangely breathless moment.

Qui-Gon stretched his whole hand out against the cool grey stone. For a few seconds he fought the ludicrous urge to weep. He knew Yoda was watching him.

The doors opened.

Cool air cascaded over them as they entered. The interior of the Ivus Temple was far humbler than the main Jedi dwelling on Coruscant. More carvings adorned the stone walls and floors. Squares of natural light shone from large, plain windows. Thick green vines and tiny flowers overwhelmed awwthe front hallway, where a slim human woman stood in patient greeting.

Qui-Gon did not recognize her, though he immediately sensed she was Jedi. They all bowed to her.

"Master Yoda," she bowed deeply to the Grand Master in response. Soft tendrils of lavender hair dipped with her.

"Master Faun," Yoda's voice was warm.

She settled violet eyes on Qui-Gon. "Master Jinn, Padawan Skywalker, I'm pleased to meet you both."

"It's nice to meet you, too," Anakin gave a second short bow. He sounded more enthusiastic than he had since they set out for Ivus Minor.

Women usually had that effect on him, despite multiple lectures from Qui-Gon.

Master Faun seemed coolly amused by the boy's sudden exuberance. "We don't have many visitors here. The Ivus Temple has become something of a relic. I see more wildlife than Jedi most days."

Qui-Gon laughed. "That sounds refreshing. I've found wild animals tend to exhibit superior manners to the average apprentice."

Anakin blushed, but with a good-natured grin. For all his teenage brooding, he was the first to laugh at a joke. "Maybe apprentices who've basically been raised by a wild animal," he retorted.

"Master Yoda told me you two would be entertaining. I hope you like it here. Now, please follow." She turned on her heel, and led the way through a series of corridors.

"How long will we be here?" Anakin asked, dodging his Master's disapproving look.

Faun stopped at a closed door. "Hopefully long enough," she said. "Here are your quarters. We don't have the amenities of Galactic City, but we'd like you to feel at home." She briefly met Yoda's eyes and smiled. Her white tunics rustled in the slight breeze. "I'm sure you wish to rest after your journeys. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

The soft spoken Jedi disappeared down another shadowed hallway.

Qui-Gon laced his arms together in his voluminous tunic sleeves and looked down at Yoda. "She is a healer?"

Yoda hummed and nodded.

He glanced at the empty, vine-smothered hall. "I believe she communicated with me, while we worked outside." Master, in that mild tone.

But the ancient Councilor was unmoved by his revelation, drooping eyes closing and mouth stretching into a thin line. "Retire, too, I shall."

The pair waited for the senior Jedi to shuffle off before gratefully slipping inside their simple sleeping quarters.

Anakin flopped onto a bunk and toed off his black, dust-caked boots. He melted into the mattress, cracking various joints and exhaling. "Hey, maybe tomorrow morning we could get in a good sparring session, if we're done playing with stones."

Qui-Gon surveyed the modest space, noting contrasts with the main Temple. Less sterile metallics, more greenery and natural elements. "I'm not sure if saber maneuvers can be squeezed into whatever schedule has been arranged for us, Padawan.."

"Oh," The boy laced his fingers atop his chest, studying the figures etched above their beds. "Something feels…weird here. You know what I mean, Master?"

The knot in his guts tightened. Leftover chalk and dirt from the abandoned stairs lingered in his nostrils and dried out his throat. He was tired, and more confused than ever.

"We must not rush to judgement, Anakin. Trust your feelings, but keep your mind open." Qui-Gon untied his hair and settled beneath a thin blanket. He repeated the admonishment to himself until the words ran together and he was asleep.

Anakin Skywalker couldn't quite believe this was his life. For nine years, he knew only desert, and struggle, and a futile kind of hope. Now he was standing on a grand platform, flanked by Jedi and royalty, as the people of Theed celebrated in the streets.

His chest swelled with pride. They were dancing and singing because of him. Well, not JUST him, but he was the one who obliterated the droid control ship, and that really stopped the bad guys….the Federation, Mister Qui-Gon had called them.

No, Master. Master Qui-Gon. It was pretty hard to keep up with all the stuff he was supposed to learn now. The big Jedi was going to be his teacher, but not right away, even though he knew Qui-Gon wanted to get his training started. Anakin didn't understand why they had to wait. He still got to wear his own set of real Jedi tunics, though, and Qui-Gon had promised him a pair of new boots too.

He guessed it was stupid to be excited about boots, but everything he'd ever owned before was a hand-me-down or salvaged from a scrap pile…and even then, those things were never really his. He looked up at the panorama of sun and sky and confetti and flying parade ribbons, and thought maybe a little part of the festivities could be for him, because he was free now, too.

The Queen was watching the display with a beautiful, open smile. She looked like an angel again, swathed in delicate white layers, with white fans like clouds in her hair. Her brown eyes caught his, and for a few seconds, it was their party, their trumpeting joyful music and exhilaration.

He wished Padme was coming with them to Coruscant. Maybe he would get to go to Naboo again, one day. There was so much possibility now, and a dizzy thrill tickled his spine. He wondered how many places he'd get to go.

Qui-Gon quietly cleared his throat. He looked over, but the man was checking his commlink again and didn't seem to notice him. Mister Qui-Gon was super nice and even funny sometimes, but ever since they left for Naboo, the Jedi was acting like he was bothered by something. He was always going off to the corner to talk into his comm, and it never sounded like he was happy about the conversation. Even when someone important wanted his attention, like the Queen, Anakin could tell Qui-Gon was distracted.

Like, this parade was the coolest thing Anakin had ever seen EVER, but he wasn't sure Qui-Gon had looked at it for more than a second. Maybe because he was tired. He was pretty old, Anakin thought, because his long hair was more silver than brown and his face showed a lot of lines when he smiled.

Or frowned, like he was doing now, sliding his communicator back in its clip.

Anakin took a half-step closer to him. "My mom says a watched droid never beeps," he offered earnestly.

The man chuckled, more soft lines streaking from the corner of his eyes. "Your mother is a very wise woman."

Anakin swallowed a sudden surge of tears. He wasn't a Jedi yet, but he wasn't going to whimper like a baby in the middle of this fancy event. He just missed Mom so much already. They had never been apart a whole day before, and now… "I'd get mad when my projects weren't working out right…" He hesitated, squinting as the sunlight flared, "You seem mad. Or sad."

It was weird, but he could feel Qui-Gon's reaction, as if it was happening to Anakin himself. His chest was so tight he could barely breathe.

Qui-Gon just smiled down at him like nothing was wrong and patted his back. The Jedi's shoulders were very broad, and he was taller than any human Anakin had seen before. It seemed extra strange, then, that he was shrinking beneath the burden of whatever this problem was.

A switch went off in Anakin's head. "Are you mad that Obi-Wan isn't here?"

Qui-Gon did stare out at the celebration then, hooking his thumbs into his belt. Loose strands of hair floated around his face. "I had hoped he would join us by now," he said, in a low, distant voice.

Anakin shrugged. "Maybe he just didn't like the mission. Sometimes when I don't want to do my chores I'll hide in a really good spot."

Qui-Gon snorted softly. "That is a clever idea, Anakin. But I think all the good spots have already been checked."

"Oh, okay." The boy deflated a little. Qui-Gon had done a lot to help him. It would be cool to help him back, except he didn't actually know Obi-Wan. How could he find a stranger?

Qui-Gon's fingers were brushing along the top of the commlink again.

Anakin could see the message lights still weren't blinking. He bit his lip. "I bet he'll be there when we get back." He straightened with optimism, "Because Obi-Wan seems nice, and nice people don't just run away forever."

A blunt thumb touched his chin. He offered Qui-Gon a reassuring smile, even though his words had made the man's kind eyes suspiciously bright.

"I'm sure you're right, Anakin."

Then Qui-Gon motioned for him to return his focus to the parade. He was glad to be part of the merriment, and Anakin couldn't help but think that even though Obi-Wan seemed nice, he was really stupid for missing out.

Qui-Gon woke choking on a gasp. Shadows from unknown dreams franticallyspun in his mind. Voices gibbered insistent nonsense, their whispers scraping against the silent dark.

He propped himself up on his elbows, thinking he heard heavy footsteps outside the door until he realized it was his own heart thudding in his ears. Qui-Gon threw long legs over the side of the sleeping cot and rubbed his face.

Dreams pass in time.

An oft-repeated mantra of his own Master's. He remembered being torn from nightmares to find Dooku's face hovering above him in stark judgement. By the time he was a senior Padawan, Qui-Gon's sleep was mostly blank, any visions forgettable. So he found it challenging, years later, when his apprentice revealed an obvious talent for prescient dreams.

A curse, Dooku would have proclaimed it.

Rightly so, Qui-Gon thought. He padded to the small sink unit in the corner of the room and splashed a little water on his face.

Anakin stirred at the streaming sound, an arm flopping off the cot. The boy would surely need sleep for…whatever it was that awaited them in the morning. Qui-Gon knew he himself would not be able to settle enough to rest again tonight, and he did not want his wakefulness to disturb the Padawan.

He was also curious about this temple. Despite his uneasy feelings, Qui-Gon yearned to explore the place, so resplendent and perplexing in the Force, different than the Temple he had known since before he could form memory. Perhaps he could find a serene, private spot to meditate.

Qui-Gon took his cloak and quietly slipped out of their quarters.

Lowlights guided him along unfamiliar paths. He had left his boots behind, and his naked feet touched on cold stone. Jedi watched him from the walls, their carved eyes deep and old, following. Fleetingly, he wondered if they approved of his presence.

He passed through a corridor shrouded in ivy, the air bright when he breathed it in. Anyone that knew Qui-Gon Jinn at all would remark that this temple seemed tailored to his taste for nature and simplicity. He paused to touch a tiny, tear-shaped leaf.

Master.

A rustle. He looked up, and saw the violet and cream figure of Master Healer Faun standing at the end of the corridor. She appeared almost an apparition in her white tunics, long, unbound hair drifting to her waist. "Master Jinn."

He took a step towards her, but hesitated, remembering suddenly that he was in his sleep clothes. "I apologize, Master Faun. The temple proved too beautiful to resist. I admit I did not think I'd run into anyone at this hour."

Faun smiled and tilted her head. "Do you have trouble sleeping, Master Jinn?"

Qui-Gon thought of the anonymous terror in the ether of his unconsciousness, the voice calling to him. "Occasionally." He told her.

"Walk with me? Insomnia loves company, it seems. I can be your guide through the Temple."

He studied her shadowed countenance. Like most healers, he sensed a great empathy in her, tempered by cool, willful detachment. "I am glad of the offer, Master Faun."

Together, they toured the main floor. Faun, in hushed tones, described the origins of the Ivus Temple and its uses through the centuries. Once a busy training hub for Masters and Padawans, now it was maintained mostly out of tradition.

"In the early days of my apprenticeship, my Master and I made an emergency landing here on Ivus Minor. We came to the Temple and I fell in love with it." Her eyes softened with the recollection. "It was here I first realized I wanted to pursue the ways of Healing."

She led him into a secluded garden. It was dark, save for wobbly pinpoints of amber light given off by glow bugs. The space was modest, but the flora seemed lovingly curated. Qui-Gon recognized some of the species from far flung worlds.

"The array of blooms is impressive," he commented, pausing to admire a cluster of delicate, opalescent flowers. "Are these from Kallidah?"

"Very good, Master Jinn," She looked pleased. "I'm actually something of a traveling healer. I cannot help but bring back a few mementos from my journeys."

Faun motioned for him to sit on a bench facing a small fountain. She watched random leaves swirl in the water before turning to Qui-Gon. "I was on sabbatical when Master Yoda asked me to return to the temple."

Qui-Gon's stomach tightened. "To see us? Myself and my apprentice?"

Her eyes were flecked with amethyst, unreadable. "You seem to already know the answer, Master Jinn."

"I believe I do." There was no use dancing around it. "You have been communicating with me telepathically since we arrived."

The Healer's eyebrows knit. She touched his shoulder briefly, and he felt gentle compassion radiating from her fingertips. "I have only spoken to you as I am speaking to you now."

He leaned forward on a knee and shook his head. "I…am surprised." Perhaps the voice was no more than a subliminal greeting from a long-dead generation of Jedi. He gazed across the gardens, admiring the flourishes of exotic blossoms, feeling their pure and uncomplicated energy thrum in the Living Force. "This temple feels like another home. I only wish I knew why we are here. Master Yoda can be-"

"Impossible?" Faun finished with a knowing smile. "And yet, where would any of us be without him?"

"I might be sleeping," Qui-Gon deadpanned.

"Yes, but one can miss so much while sleeping." The Healer said, and squeezed his hand with thin, firm fingers.