sanerontheinside (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sanerontheinside) wrote2018-12-07 12:44 am
sanerontheinside) wrote2018-12-07 12:44 am
Stained Glass Above Radicals
original post
So, this is more of an au outline than writing. There's a short story posted to ao3, Stained Glass, which this au follows from. I don't feel great about posting au outlines on ao3, though at some point I might just make a collection for scraps, but I definitely wanted to crosspost it here.
One day, not long into Qui-Gon’s newest nightmare of running the Alderaanian Temple, Tahl arrives in a whirlwind of activity and roughly jabs a finger into Qui-Gon’s sternum.
“You,” she declares, “need an Archivist. Your record-keeping is horrid.”
Qui-Gon raises his hands and backs away, shamelessly placing his Padawan between them. Obi-Wan takes this in good humour, but he also takes every opportunity to tease his Master afterwards. Qui-Gon does not mind. His Padawan can tease as much as he likes, but he’ll always protect his poor old Master.
Tahl’s appearance does make things much easier. And it’s not really Qui-Gon’s record-keeping that’s appalling, as it turns out. It’s that the systems in place in this Temple are outdated. Tahl tucks Obi-Wan under her arm and vanishes for three days straight, living on nothing but tea and biscuits – a programmer’s lifestyle that Qui-Gon, frankly, does not approve of.
“You’re very attached to your Padawan, Qui,” Tahl teases him.
“Don’t you start,” he grumbles, curling around the same sleeping Padawan protectively on her couch.
But by then things are already running more smoothly. At least now when they send out messages, there’s a chance someone will hear them.
***
They start to take missions again. Once, Qui-Gon had taken missions for Finis, sometimes by personal request. These days, he occasionally does so by request of Bail Antilles.
Some of the missions do, in fact, go to pieces.
Obi-Wan does not. Qui-Gon Jinn’s Padawan, his pride, is Knighted at the age of nineteen. He would have been ready a year ago, it just takes them that long to get to Coruscant because – ‘predictably,’ Obi-Wan says, ‘Qui-Gon found a way to get into trouble.’
‘Such cheek,’ Qui-Gon sniffs, while hiding a chuckle and tugging at his Padawan’s braid. He’ll cut that soon, he’ll take every chance to tug it affectionately now. (He gets in another soft tug at the ceremony.)
***
Years later, there’s talk of uneasy rumblings in the Senate, a gradual reshuffling. Two Jedi just barely save the Queen of Naboo from an assassination—or worse, internment in one of the camps—and bring her to Coruscant. They bring a child with them to Coruscant, a boy who burns bright as the stars.
The boy will not be trained, the Council says. Quinlan, sighing and shaking his head, paces down to the balcony to watch the Coruscant sunset while he sulks. Aayla says nothing, wanders off to find Master Tholme for a spar, and, maybe, advice on how to work around the Council. He’s only been doing it for years.
Tahl, who happens to be on Coruscant to set Micah’s brain back in order for getting himself injured on a mission, takes the opportunity to report on the progress of Alderaan’s Temple to the Council in person. She finds Quin on her way out of the chambers. Anger almost visibly colours the air around him, so Tahl stops to ask what’s wrong.
I have to send a slave-child back to Tatooine, apparently, Quin tells her, cynicism cutting sharply into his tone.
Banthashit, Tahl snaps, to his intense surprise, and offers to give the boy another option.
***
When Tahl returns to Alderaan with Quin and Aayla in tow and a boy who burns like a star going nova, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon exchange incredulous glances—or, well, Qui-Gon glances. Obi-Wan’s jaw fell open the moment he sensed this flare in the Force, and he hasn’t been looking anywhere so much as he’s been looking everywhere else. In the last eight years he’s been so acutely sensitised to the merest brush-strokes of Force signatures, traces of hands left hours or years ago—Anakin is almost blinding to him, he burns.
It takes some time to get used to. Obi-Wan is unsurprisingly skittish at first, but when Anakin finally asks why Obi-Wan has been avoiding him, a hurt note in his voice, Obi-Wan sighs and sinks to his knees and does his best to explain. Qui-Gon watches, and thinks he’ll finally see a Grandpadawan trained.
Obi-Wan, however, is the same cunning imp as he always was. Qui-Gon isn’t quite sure how, but somehow they both end up Anakin’s Masters. With so few Jedi at the Temple, and effectively only two Padawans (three, before Bant’s Knighting) the rules and the Code sometimes seem a bit—arbitrary. Besides, having two Masters was never, strictly speaking, against any rules.
But there is a growing unease in the galaxy. Sometimes, when Bail comes to the Temple with a request, it’s not one that guarantees safety during the mission. But Alderaan has always organised relief efforts for planets in need of them, and Naboo is currently very much in need.
Naboo’s Queen had taken one look at the Senate, and regally taken her leave. This haughty dismissiveness held in the face of the Senate’s haughty bickering, where they passed over her claims and concerns and selfishly dredged up their own—completely misplaced—insult. Queen Amidala returned to her planet, made peace with the Gungans, and led her attack. She didn’t regain control, and for a long dirty year she’s been fighting a war from the brush, taking camps when possible, saving resources.
Against his far better judgement, Qui-Gon agrees to help Bail Antilles, and accompanies Bail to Naboo with his Knight partner and their Padawan. They are there to protect the cargo, to distribute supplies to those in need, but Amidala asks them for help.
Anakin seems ready to promise her anything, but his Masters wisely forestall him. The Jedi are peacekeepers, Qui-Gon tells her. But, Obi-Wan argues, they keep peace among people – not droids programmed to kill. Qui-Gon turns his sighted eyes heavenward, draws on his hard-won serenity, and does not Force-swat his former Padawan.
They help the Queen retake her city. Anakin tangles with a starfighter while trying to figure out how it works, and Artoo takes him on a wild ride—during which he takes out the Trade Federation’s blockade. (His Masters are not entirely pleased.)
The Alderaanian Temple seems less empty after that, somehow. Some of the refugees, the survivors of the Naboo camps, chose to leave with the Alderaanian ships, and the Jedi welcomed them in the Temple. Suddenly they have younglings in the crèche, their Healer’s Halls are near full to capacity, and there’s even Temple staff. Many of them are not Force Sensitive, and yet they bring with them a sense of warmth and family that no one on Alderaan had ever realised they’d been missing.
Of course, with that warmth comes the demand of supplying, outfitting, and supporting so many new people. Qui-Gon’s migraines have returned full-force. “We’re not equipped for this,” he grumbles, complaining to Tahl. Tahl is busy laughing at the younglings, who are crawling over Obi-Wan and Anakin like they’re the best playthings they’ve seen in months.
But then Tahl turns around and comms the Council, simply drops the problem in their lap. Just to inform you, the Temple on Alderaan has taken twenty Force-Sensitive children from Naboo into the crèche, and one hundred refugees—what’s that? You’re breaking up—yes—connection’s a bit rough, I’m afraid.
The Coruscant Temple reroutes a few Healers and Knights, and even a few of the Masters. They also eventually send a swearing Mace Windu, but by then the Temple at least looks presentable, if covered in green paint in the oddest places.
Mace spends the next month meditating in the gardens. With Skywalker laughing at him as children use him for climbing practice. Not the Skywalker can laugh, when he’s rather in the same situation, toddlers clinging to his tunic sleeves and hugging his knees wherever he goes. He’s quite tall already, and the taller he gets, the happier the crèchelings are—the more of them fit on their favourite Padawan. But, as the saying goes, misery loves company, and Skywalker is only too happy to have the Head of the Order share in his lot in life.
Mace is quite content, even so. Now that Qui-Gon has the migraines, his seem to have mysteriously left him, fluttered off into the ether, while he’s on this well-deserved vacation from being pompous Head of the Order with a stick up his—
Master Windu’s return to Coruscant is closely followed by an influx of still more Knights and Masters, most of whom had been running difficult missions almost without reprieve for the last few years.
“We’re, apparently, being considered a resort,” Obi-Wan remarks at that.
Qui-Gon snorts. “Not if they all help.”
The Coruscant Temple has rotations for teaching classes and taking missions. The Alderaanian Temple requires everyone, mission roster or no, to take part in Temple life. He puts their guests to work. Mace made a wonderful crèchemaster, even left with a new Padawan of his own. The more Knights and Masters take children with them when they leave, the greater the number of victories Qui-Gon will tally for himself.
(The less mouths to feed on overstretched funds. Generous as Bail Antilles and Padmé Amidala have been, the reality of their situation is still quite harsh. Jedi aren’t ascetic entirely by choice.)
If, the first time Qui-Gon had set foot in this Temple, it had been quiet and content, now it is bursting, teeming with life. He insists that he cannot say which version he favours, the peace and quiet or this bustling wildness. But Obi-Wan, pressed against his former Master’s side like he’d never left it, knows this to be the slight unruly spark of lingering annoyance at the noise. His Master thrives on the bustle around him, on the close-knit, familial affection, like a plant reaching out for the sun.
***
When the war comes, when the Confederacy forms, when the Jedi are called upon to fight by the Senate, it’s easier for Alderaan to refuse that it would be for Coruscant. Largely because some overzealous reporter asked Alderaanian Jedi first, and Qui-Gon answered as any logical person would.
The Coruscant Temple lives by the whims of the Senate, and not by logic.
That, unfortunately, throws hurtful words into the air—‘Mavericks’, ‘Schism’, ‘Radicals’. Master Plo Koon, by virtue of being on Alderaan while the rest of the Council was not, becomes one of the ‘Radical Jedi Sect hiding out in the Alderaanian mountains’.
Alderaan is considered a precedent for Coruscant’s refusal, and Jedi on Coruscant are suddenly openly despised. Feared, but despised nonetheless.
Qui-Gon eyes the headlines with patient bemusement at first, expecting them to stop. To his consternation, they do not stop.
“This may be for the best,” Mace tells them later.
“Best?” Qui-Gon’s jaw drops. “No,” he says, “don’t you dare—don’t you even think of making me Head of my own Order, Mace! Mace, do not—”
Mace chuckles, but it’s thin humour in times like these. There are bruises under his eyes that the holostream fails to hide. Within months, more Knights, more Masters, more children arrive. If they didn’t have help, they’d be overwhelmed and overrun. This is not a welcome thought.
Much like Alderaan, Naboo has declared its neutrality. Under pressure from Padmé, Mina Bonteri of Onderon does the same, and then Rodia and Corellia follow suit. It’s a trend that picks up momentum quickly, and soon, unable to hold together a Temple bursting with life, Qui-Gon begins to encourage them to split up and choose other planets to move to. Understandably, his suggestion is met with uproar at first. For all that they cannot handle the Temple’s current volume, splitting up is dangerous. What if their planets choose to pick sides, ended up against each other?
Qui-Gon refuses to think of those possibilities. He refused the very idea of Jedi having any part in the war, because the Jedi had settled disputes on Republic worlds for years, and that includes the Confederate Systems. Neutrality was the only logical response.
Qui-Gon pointedly tells the Knights and Masters not to make enemies of each other, throwing them a quelling look much like one he might shoot at the crèche children. They quiet instantly, make arrangements and choose their new homes.
***
The headlines continue to call it a ‘Schism’, they still call the Alderaanian Temple a Temple of ‘Radicals’. The ‘Rebel Jedi’ are stationed there, and yet, they are the furthest thing from active warriors. It seems to escape everyone’s notice that Alderaan is perhaps the safest Temple, that it has the greatest number of children in its crèche. Anakin isn’t very happy about it—he insists that he can only just barely keep up with the demands of being a crèchemaster! And only just Knighted, too!
But secretly, Qui-Gon couldn’t be happier that the media downplays this fact. Over the last few years, he’s taken pains to follow the windings of the Temple deeper into the Mountains, discovered yet more Archives and rooms, training salles. With funds enough to expand the livable space in the Temple, he’s equally grateful that they have a place to retreat, if the worst should happen. The children, he thinks, will be safe.
The clones, though—the army that the Jedi supposedly commissioned the Kaminoans for—are decidedly not inactive. They act in the defence of their chosen Temples, at least, and not in the defence of the Republic.
The Coruscant Temple is nearly empty, all but for a skeleton crew.
The Force is with them, for better or for worse. The Jedi on Naboo and Onderon have already been forced to rise in defense of their homes, yet Alderaan, thanks in no small part to the efforts of Bail and Breha, remains quiet.
Qui-Gon can feel that quiet itching under Obi-Wan’s skin, and he can’t help but want to do the same. This whole war feels drawn-out, artificial, like a lure. But he holds his former Padawan close to him as they sit outside on the steps at night, staring up at the stars.
“Where do you think this path will lead?” Obi-Wan asks him.
Qui-Gon sighs and presses his lips to the Knight’s temple. “I cannot say,” he answers truthfully. He sends a prayer to the Force, to the night sky, to whatever gods might be listening, that their path will be a safe one, in the end.
Anonymous said: Stained glass above radicals, for the title prompt
So, this is more of an au outline than writing. There's a short story posted to ao3, Stained Glass, which this au follows from. I don't feel great about posting au outlines on ao3, though at some point I might just make a collection for scraps, but I definitely wanted to crosspost it here.
One day, not long into Qui-Gon’s newest nightmare of running the Alderaanian Temple, Tahl arrives in a whirlwind of activity and roughly jabs a finger into Qui-Gon’s sternum.
“You,” she declares, “need an Archivist. Your record-keeping is horrid.”
Qui-Gon raises his hands and backs away, shamelessly placing his Padawan between them. Obi-Wan takes this in good humour, but he also takes every opportunity to tease his Master afterwards. Qui-Gon does not mind. His Padawan can tease as much as he likes, but he’ll always protect his poor old Master.
Tahl’s appearance does make things much easier. And it’s not really Qui-Gon’s record-keeping that’s appalling, as it turns out. It’s that the systems in place in this Temple are outdated. Tahl tucks Obi-Wan under her arm and vanishes for three days straight, living on nothing but tea and biscuits – a programmer’s lifestyle that Qui-Gon, frankly, does not approve of.
“You’re very attached to your Padawan, Qui,” Tahl teases him.
“Don’t you start,” he grumbles, curling around the same sleeping Padawan protectively on her couch.
But by then things are already running more smoothly. At least now when they send out messages, there’s a chance someone will hear them.
***
They start to take missions again. Once, Qui-Gon had taken missions for Finis, sometimes by personal request. These days, he occasionally does so by request of Bail Antilles.
Some of the missions do, in fact, go to pieces.
Obi-Wan does not. Qui-Gon Jinn’s Padawan, his pride, is Knighted at the age of nineteen. He would have been ready a year ago, it just takes them that long to get to Coruscant because – ‘predictably,’ Obi-Wan says, ‘Qui-Gon found a way to get into trouble.’
‘Such cheek,’ Qui-Gon sniffs, while hiding a chuckle and tugging at his Padawan’s braid. He’ll cut that soon, he’ll take every chance to tug it affectionately now. (He gets in another soft tug at the ceremony.)
***
Years later, there’s talk of uneasy rumblings in the Senate, a gradual reshuffling. Two Jedi just barely save the Queen of Naboo from an assassination—or worse, internment in one of the camps—and bring her to Coruscant. They bring a child with them to Coruscant, a boy who burns bright as the stars.
The boy will not be trained, the Council says. Quinlan, sighing and shaking his head, paces down to the balcony to watch the Coruscant sunset while he sulks. Aayla says nothing, wanders off to find Master Tholme for a spar, and, maybe, advice on how to work around the Council. He’s only been doing it for years.
Tahl, who happens to be on Coruscant to set Micah’s brain back in order for getting himself injured on a mission, takes the opportunity to report on the progress of Alderaan’s Temple to the Council in person. She finds Quin on her way out of the chambers. Anger almost visibly colours the air around him, so Tahl stops to ask what’s wrong.
I have to send a slave-child back to Tatooine, apparently, Quin tells her, cynicism cutting sharply into his tone.
Banthashit, Tahl snaps, to his intense surprise, and offers to give the boy another option.
***
When Tahl returns to Alderaan with Quin and Aayla in tow and a boy who burns like a star going nova, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon exchange incredulous glances—or, well, Qui-Gon glances. Obi-Wan’s jaw fell open the moment he sensed this flare in the Force, and he hasn’t been looking anywhere so much as he’s been looking everywhere else. In the last eight years he’s been so acutely sensitised to the merest brush-strokes of Force signatures, traces of hands left hours or years ago—Anakin is almost blinding to him, he burns.
It takes some time to get used to. Obi-Wan is unsurprisingly skittish at first, but when Anakin finally asks why Obi-Wan has been avoiding him, a hurt note in his voice, Obi-Wan sighs and sinks to his knees and does his best to explain. Qui-Gon watches, and thinks he’ll finally see a Grandpadawan trained.
Obi-Wan, however, is the same cunning imp as he always was. Qui-Gon isn’t quite sure how, but somehow they both end up Anakin’s Masters. With so few Jedi at the Temple, and effectively only two Padawans (three, before Bant’s Knighting) the rules and the Code sometimes seem a bit—arbitrary. Besides, having two Masters was never, strictly speaking, against any rules.
But there is a growing unease in the galaxy. Sometimes, when Bail comes to the Temple with a request, it’s not one that guarantees safety during the mission. But Alderaan has always organised relief efforts for planets in need of them, and Naboo is currently very much in need.
Naboo’s Queen had taken one look at the Senate, and regally taken her leave. This haughty dismissiveness held in the face of the Senate’s haughty bickering, where they passed over her claims and concerns and selfishly dredged up their own—completely misplaced—insult. Queen Amidala returned to her planet, made peace with the Gungans, and led her attack. She didn’t regain control, and for a long dirty year she’s been fighting a war from the brush, taking camps when possible, saving resources.
Against his far better judgement, Qui-Gon agrees to help Bail Antilles, and accompanies Bail to Naboo with his Knight partner and their Padawan. They are there to protect the cargo, to distribute supplies to those in need, but Amidala asks them for help.
Anakin seems ready to promise her anything, but his Masters wisely forestall him. The Jedi are peacekeepers, Qui-Gon tells her. But, Obi-Wan argues, they keep peace among people – not droids programmed to kill. Qui-Gon turns his sighted eyes heavenward, draws on his hard-won serenity, and does not Force-swat his former Padawan.
They help the Queen retake her city. Anakin tangles with a starfighter while trying to figure out how it works, and Artoo takes him on a wild ride—during which he takes out the Trade Federation’s blockade. (His Masters are not entirely pleased.)
The Alderaanian Temple seems less empty after that, somehow. Some of the refugees, the survivors of the Naboo camps, chose to leave with the Alderaanian ships, and the Jedi welcomed them in the Temple. Suddenly they have younglings in the crèche, their Healer’s Halls are near full to capacity, and there’s even Temple staff. Many of them are not Force Sensitive, and yet they bring with them a sense of warmth and family that no one on Alderaan had ever realised they’d been missing.
Of course, with that warmth comes the demand of supplying, outfitting, and supporting so many new people. Qui-Gon’s migraines have returned full-force. “We’re not equipped for this,” he grumbles, complaining to Tahl. Tahl is busy laughing at the younglings, who are crawling over Obi-Wan and Anakin like they’re the best playthings they’ve seen in months.
But then Tahl turns around and comms the Council, simply drops the problem in their lap. Just to inform you, the Temple on Alderaan has taken twenty Force-Sensitive children from Naboo into the crèche, and one hundred refugees—what’s that? You’re breaking up—yes—connection’s a bit rough, I’m afraid.
The Coruscant Temple reroutes a few Healers and Knights, and even a few of the Masters. They also eventually send a swearing Mace Windu, but by then the Temple at least looks presentable, if covered in green paint in the oddest places.
Mace spends the next month meditating in the gardens. With Skywalker laughing at him as children use him for climbing practice. Not the Skywalker can laugh, when he’s rather in the same situation, toddlers clinging to his tunic sleeves and hugging his knees wherever he goes. He’s quite tall already, and the taller he gets, the happier the crèchelings are—the more of them fit on their favourite Padawan. But, as the saying goes, misery loves company, and Skywalker is only too happy to have the Head of the Order share in his lot in life.
Mace is quite content, even so. Now that Qui-Gon has the migraines, his seem to have mysteriously left him, fluttered off into the ether, while he’s on this well-deserved vacation from being pompous Head of the Order with a stick up his—
Master Windu’s return to Coruscant is closely followed by an influx of still more Knights and Masters, most of whom had been running difficult missions almost without reprieve for the last few years.
“We’re, apparently, being considered a resort,” Obi-Wan remarks at that.
Qui-Gon snorts. “Not if they all help.”
The Coruscant Temple has rotations for teaching classes and taking missions. The Alderaanian Temple requires everyone, mission roster or no, to take part in Temple life. He puts their guests to work. Mace made a wonderful crèchemaster, even left with a new Padawan of his own. The more Knights and Masters take children with them when they leave, the greater the number of victories Qui-Gon will tally for himself.
(The less mouths to feed on overstretched funds. Generous as Bail Antilles and Padmé Amidala have been, the reality of their situation is still quite harsh. Jedi aren’t ascetic entirely by choice.)
If, the first time Qui-Gon had set foot in this Temple, it had been quiet and content, now it is bursting, teeming with life. He insists that he cannot say which version he favours, the peace and quiet or this bustling wildness. But Obi-Wan, pressed against his former Master’s side like he’d never left it, knows this to be the slight unruly spark of lingering annoyance at the noise. His Master thrives on the bustle around him, on the close-knit, familial affection, like a plant reaching out for the sun.
***
When the war comes, when the Confederacy forms, when the Jedi are called upon to fight by the Senate, it’s easier for Alderaan to refuse that it would be for Coruscant. Largely because some overzealous reporter asked Alderaanian Jedi first, and Qui-Gon answered as any logical person would.
The Coruscant Temple lives by the whims of the Senate, and not by logic.
That, unfortunately, throws hurtful words into the air—‘Mavericks’, ‘Schism’, ‘Radicals’. Master Plo Koon, by virtue of being on Alderaan while the rest of the Council was not, becomes one of the ‘Radical Jedi Sect hiding out in the Alderaanian mountains’.
Alderaan is considered a precedent for Coruscant’s refusal, and Jedi on Coruscant are suddenly openly despised. Feared, but despised nonetheless.
Qui-Gon eyes the headlines with patient bemusement at first, expecting them to stop. To his consternation, they do not stop.
“This may be for the best,” Mace tells them later.
“Best?” Qui-Gon’s jaw drops. “No,” he says, “don’t you dare—don’t you even think of making me Head of my own Order, Mace! Mace, do not—”
Mace chuckles, but it’s thin humour in times like these. There are bruises under his eyes that the holostream fails to hide. Within months, more Knights, more Masters, more children arrive. If they didn’t have help, they’d be overwhelmed and overrun. This is not a welcome thought.
Much like Alderaan, Naboo has declared its neutrality. Under pressure from Padmé, Mina Bonteri of Onderon does the same, and then Rodia and Corellia follow suit. It’s a trend that picks up momentum quickly, and soon, unable to hold together a Temple bursting with life, Qui-Gon begins to encourage them to split up and choose other planets to move to. Understandably, his suggestion is met with uproar at first. For all that they cannot handle the Temple’s current volume, splitting up is dangerous. What if their planets choose to pick sides, ended up against each other?
Qui-Gon refuses to think of those possibilities. He refused the very idea of Jedi having any part in the war, because the Jedi had settled disputes on Republic worlds for years, and that includes the Confederate Systems. Neutrality was the only logical response.
Qui-Gon pointedly tells the Knights and Masters not to make enemies of each other, throwing them a quelling look much like one he might shoot at the crèche children. They quiet instantly, make arrangements and choose their new homes.
***
The headlines continue to call it a ‘Schism’, they still call the Alderaanian Temple a Temple of ‘Radicals’. The ‘Rebel Jedi’ are stationed there, and yet, they are the furthest thing from active warriors. It seems to escape everyone’s notice that Alderaan is perhaps the safest Temple, that it has the greatest number of children in its crèche. Anakin isn’t very happy about it—he insists that he can only just barely keep up with the demands of being a crèchemaster! And only just Knighted, too!
But secretly, Qui-Gon couldn’t be happier that the media downplays this fact. Over the last few years, he’s taken pains to follow the windings of the Temple deeper into the Mountains, discovered yet more Archives and rooms, training salles. With funds enough to expand the livable space in the Temple, he’s equally grateful that they have a place to retreat, if the worst should happen. The children, he thinks, will be safe.
The clones, though—the army that the Jedi supposedly commissioned the Kaminoans for—are decidedly not inactive. They act in the defence of their chosen Temples, at least, and not in the defence of the Republic.
The Coruscant Temple is nearly empty, all but for a skeleton crew.
The Force is with them, for better or for worse. The Jedi on Naboo and Onderon have already been forced to rise in defense of their homes, yet Alderaan, thanks in no small part to the efforts of Bail and Breha, remains quiet.
Qui-Gon can feel that quiet itching under Obi-Wan’s skin, and he can’t help but want to do the same. This whole war feels drawn-out, artificial, like a lure. But he holds his former Padawan close to him as they sit outside on the steps at night, staring up at the stars.
“Where do you think this path will lead?” Obi-Wan asks him.
Qui-Gon sighs and presses his lips to the Knight’s temple. “I cannot say,” he answers truthfully. He sends a prayer to the Force, to the night sky, to whatever gods might be listening, that their path will be a safe one, in the end.