| Night Must Fall By Jemmiah It seemed impossible to Qui-Gon - utterly unthinkable - that the one, steadfast rock to which he had clung for so long might soon be snatched from his grasp. If there was a constant in the galaxy then that person was Yoda. For hundreds of years the elderly Jedi master had taught younglings and padawans alike, passing on his knowledge and special brand of wisdom and insight to those who sought it. The honour of being selected to be his padawan was immense, and at first Qui-Gon had found it to be an incredible burden: always comparing himself to the illustrious names who had gone before him over the centuries. Now, on reflection, he realised that this was a pressure he had unnecessarily placed upon himself. Yoda did not seek to compare, or find fault, merely content to nurture the particular talent in his charge the best way he could. And now he was sick. Dying, perhaps. Qui-Gon felt his stomach lurch to his throat the same way it might have in a falling lift-shaft. He had spent the whole morning at the infirmary by his old master's bedside, telling himself repeatedly that Yoda would not die…could not die. That come what may, he wouldn't allow it to happen. And yet Qui-Gon knew that if the force deigned his master's death there was nothing he could do to stop it. If the worst happened he would accept it. But oh, how his heart would break… He looked so frail, lying there upon the bed with his head resting against an over-large pillow: so…old. When had that happened, Qui-Gon wondered? Why had he never noticed it before? Certainly for as long as he could remember Yoda had used a stick to aid his mobility but this latest development had come as a shock to Qui-Gon. He had always taken for granted the fact that Jedi like Yoda would go on forever, so long had they been an integral part of the temple. Don't die, master. Qui-Gon willed silently as Yoda gave the smallest of sighs, the tips of his green ears twitching as he did so. Not yet. I need you…I do not know what I would do without you to guide my steps. "Trust in the will of the force, I do, young Qui-Gon." Yoda murmured beneath his breath. "Worry not over me." Qui-Gon blinked slowly, wondering if he had somehow imagined hearing his master's voice. It had been a mere thread - a whisper - in response to his own silent prayer, but he had heard it…hadn't he? "Trust your own feelings you should." Yoda opened his left eye a tiny fraction, the skin around it pale and lined, reminding Qui-Gon of an old walnut. "Speak I did, padawan. Alive I am. Rid of me yet, you are not!" Jinn's shoulders - tensed for what had seemed a lifetime - dropped in relief. "I would never wish to be rid of you, master." Qui-Gon's voice cracked fractionally despite his best efforts to control his emotions. "You are a part of me…like my own heart." Yoda's eyelid opened further still, the pupil fixing itself rigidly upon Qui-Gon. The intense scrutiny made the young man feel inexplicably uncomfortable in a way he never had before. He had likened Yoda to his own heart, and whilst the answer had seemed to please the wizened old master Qui-Gon could sense his words had brought a deal of discomfort, too. "Respect I have for you, padawan. And love also." Yoda admitted after an uneasy silence had developed between them. "But allow yourself to get too attached you should not. Guard against this you should, and accept the will of the force. If die I should, as one day I must, how would you feel, hmmm?" "Distraught, master!" Qui-Gon blurted out, before realising that this time his answer had only served to sadden Yoda further still. "Why should that not be so? I would accept it, should the force will it to be so, but I am not afraid to admit that I would miss your words of guidance and reassurance. And that is why I hope you will not leave us for many, many years…where would we be without you?" Yoda shuffled over slowly onto his side, allowing himself to face Qui-Gon fully. He scrutinised his padawan's determined young face. Such resolve and defiance: ready to challenge and question and test the rules as he saw fit. It was these facets of Qui-Gon's character that made Yoda both exasperated and conversely proud…but it caused him grave concern. There were few more gifted in the temple, of that he was certain, yet he foresaw great heartache for his padawan if he could not learn to fully embrace the ways of the Jedi. And this was what hurt Yoda most of all. "Carry on without me you would. As would all the Jedi." Yoda sighed once more. "Night will fall upon me one day, as is the way of the force. Live forever I cannot, Qui-Gon. But for so long have I lived within the temple that people have come to believe I would!" His long ears began to droop. "Old I have become. See it, I did not." "Master, you will get better…I feel certain of it." Qui-Gon reached out his hand and placed it gently upon the tiny, green clawed fingers of Yoda. "All you need is a little time. The healers say that it might take a while to recover from this malady but provided you don't suffer another attack then it's entirely possible that you will go from strength to strength…" "Months, it will take to recover." Yoda's spirits seemed to momentarily sink into gloom. "If recover I shall. Time to think of you, it is. Not of myself." Instantly Qui-Gon heard alarm bells ringing inside his mind. Time to think of himself? What did his master have in mind? When had Yoda not put the welfare of others before that of himself? "Weak and enfeebled I am, Qui-Gon." Yoda gazed impassively across at his padawan. "To train you further I am unable. Someone younger and more able must we seek to complete your apprenticeship." He watched as shock and incredulity warred on the features of the young man, one giving way to the other. "A wake-up call, this illness has been. Hoped I had to train you to the end, and see you safely to knighthood. To be proud of your achievements." "Master…" Jinn shook his head unbelievingly. "Proud I will still be, Qui-Gon. But do your training justice I cannot. To see you thus far along the path of the Jedi, an honour it has been. Trained many I have in my time, each one of them strong in the force. None of them," the corners of his mouth managed to crease into a ghost of a smile, "as close to my heart as you." Yoda burrowed his head into the pillow, as if trying to cover his momentary display of weakness. "Stay with me whilst I sleep, Qui-Gon. Give me strength you do." "Yes, of course…" Qui-Gon murmured, hesitating to use the word 'master' in light of Yoda's shocking decision. So many thoughts fluttered incoherently inside his head. Padawans were reassigned new masters if they had the misfortune to lose their tutor through death, real or presumed, but rarely when their teacher was still alive. What would everyone think of him? How would this 'de-selection' reflect upon his status in the eyes of the knights and masters? Instantly his inner voice rejected this idea as unimportant…what did it matter what others thought of him? When had he ever cared? But who then would want to take him on? And what of his bond with Yoda? How could he possibly get close to a new teacher when the ties he shared with his old master remained as strong and alive as ever? And in truth, did he want to share a training bond with any other? The pride he had felt on being selected as Yoda's padawan still burned within him. And it probably always would. "No matter who teaches you," Yoda broke in on his thoughts, "My padawan you will always be, Qui-Gon." He withdrew his tiny, gnarled fingers - knotted like the bark of a crooked tree - from beneath Qui-Gon's hand and then, slowly, replaced them on top of those of the apprentice. This time the muffled sigh, when it arrived, was one of contentment. "And none better could I hope to have." |
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