Chapter Text
Breathe.
Blaster fire echoes through the halls. Lightsabers ignite. Fear, confusion and death permeates the Force like toxic fumes, suffocating any who can feel it.
Keep running.
Jedi Knights and Masters scream for their young to “Run!” and "Keep going!” before falling alongside their peers. Groups of younglings push their legs as fast as they can go through corridors they no longer recognize. Where do they run to when this place is the only home they’ve ever known?
Don’t look.
Bodies. Lifeless forms litter the floors of a place that was meant to be safe and full of light. Too many that it’s hard not to trip over them in the pursuit of escape. Hard not to look down and meet their empty gazes.
Hide.
A dark presence leads the attack. Someone meant to be trusted has betrayed them. Fire, ash, lightsabers clashing, a figure once full of love, now screaming with hate.
Wake up.
Quinlan hadn’t been able to sleep ever since he left—escaped—Kiffu, even after a year at the Temple. Tholme said it would take time. His mind healer said that too. But, no matter how light and how safe the Temple was, he still couldn’t trust it. He especially couldn’t trust the kind gestures and soft smiles of his peers. His aunt had been kind and soft as well. Right up until she’d handed him his mother’s pendant and tortured him with the memories it contained. She’d laughed as she made him relive their deaths over and over again until it felt like he’d been swallowed whole by that darkness.
Tholme and Healer Cara assured that his persistent nightmares were normal and they too would heal with time. They were sort of right, he guessed. They weren’t as bad as they’d been a year ago—not that any of his agemates cared about his improvement. Quinlan remained the freak who screamed when he touched things. No one dared go near him, else they catch whatever darkness still clung to his soul.
One step from Falling. That was what everyone thought. Everyone, except Master Tholme.
Maybe Quinlan should have woken him. Tholme always said that he would be there whenever he needed, but it was the middle of the night and his Master had just gotten back from an extended mission. He should be allowed to sleep without his invalid Padawan disturbing him.
That was another black stain on his record according to his agemates. Quinlan had been “chosen” outside of the usual traditions. He didn’t know it was strange until Initiate Uri cornered him in the salle a week after he arrived and demanded to know how he’d tricked Master Tholme into claiming him before he was even of age. As if Quinlan had performed some magic spell. If only she knew that the reason was because the Master/Padawan bond was the one thing keeping him sane.
Tholme told him not to worry about what anyone else thought. That the other Initiates were young and Temple-raised which was a blessing they didn’t fully understand. Nor should they have to. Quinlan, no matter how much Uri’s words had hurt, was grateful that she would never suffer his pain. But, despite his understanding, he was lonely.
Quinlan huffed and continued his wandering through the halls. He technically wasn’t supposed to be out of his room, but as he didn’t cause a disturbance, no one chose to comment.
The Temple was peaceful at night when everyone else was asleep. No one was around to cast judgement upon him and the buzzing beneath his skin settled into a mild hum.
Lately, his nightmares hadn’t been about anything in particular. The once vivid memories from Kiffu had been replaced by vague flashes of pain, death and laughter. Tonight, he dreamed of a Jedi Master grieving over the loss of his Padawan. When Quinlan had woken, his hand was still gripping his pillow. Once again, someone had mixed up his linens. An honest mistake, but one that didn’t exactly help his trust issues. Still, he didn’t want to be a burden, so he’d decided to talk a walk. The Master’s pain still cut through his soul.
As he reached the end of the hall, Quinlan felt a disturbance in the Force. He looked around, trying to locate it. What started off as small ping, soon became a nearly overwhelming alarm. Someone was in trouble. The Force was yelling, Go now!
Quinlan took off running, allowing the Force to guide his feet.
He ended up in the gardens. The Room of a Thousand Fountains was a favoured destination for many Jedi, even him. But, instead of the peace-calm-serenity he was used to, he sensed a swirling storm of insurmountable fear-confusion-grief. He followed it towards a large Aphor tree in one of the hidden forested areas.
At the base of the tree was a small red-haired boy with his head tucked firmly between his knees. He was crying, but not the usual sobbing that most Temple-raised younglings tended to do. Instead, he was quiet. Like he didn’t want anyone to hear. He was smaller than Quinlan, but didn’t seem to be much younger. Maybe four or five? Definitely not six. He would have remembered such vibrant hair in his classes.
He stepped closer, slowly so as not to startle him. The boy didn’t even seem to notice when Quinlan projected his presence. However, the breaking of a branch beneath his foot startled him. His head whipped up and bright blue eyes stared up at him. Why was he so afraid? Quinlan might not trust yet, but he also hadn’t found anything remotely threatening during his year here. Yet, this boy’s eyes…Quinlan wondered if his eyes looked like that when he’d first arrived.
The boy was shivering in only his thin night clothes, arms wrapped tightly around himself and Quinlan took off his outer robe and knelt down so he could bundle him up in it. The boy’s eyes widened with too much surprise at the small action. As if no one had ever done such a thing for him before. “Th…thank you,” he murmured, sounding tired and resigned.
“You needed it more than I did,” Quinlan shrugged, trying not to let his worry show. He had a feeling the boy might bolt. He decided to focus on the area around them. He’d never been to this section of the gardens. “Nice hiding spot,” he commended and the boy shrank a little.
“I keep waking up here,” the boy grumbled. He then looked up at Quinlan with big sad eyes that honestly made him want to melt. “Did I wake you?” he asked nervously.
Quinlan chuckled, shaking his head. “No,” he assured. “I was…well, I was already awake when the Force led me here. Why?”
The boy’s lip trembled as he wiped away his tears. “I wake up my clanmates a lot. Sometimes, I wake up the whole wing. I don’t mean to, but they don’t believe me,” he muttered and Quinlan slowly wrapped his arm around him, careful to keep it over the robe. He didn’t think he could handle another vision right now.
The boy instinctually leaned into it and his eyes began to droop. However, he suddenly jolted, prying his eyes open as if willing himself to stay awake. “You should get some sleep,” Quinlan insisted, but the boy frantically shook his head.
“No, please!” he cried out in fear.
Quinlan understood being afraid to sleep, even if he didn’t know the boy’s reason. This was something he could help with. “How about we meditate instead? That sometimes helps me,” he offered. The boy narrowed his gaze suspiciously, but nodded. “Great,” Quinlan smiled and instructed him to curl up against his side rather than take the normal position before they sank into the Force.
He reached out and noticed the storm around the edges of the boy’s signature, like it was just waiting for him to lower his defenses. Quinlan felt the boy’s fear spike when he noticed it too and send soothing thoughts towards him as he extended his shields around them both. He didn’t know if he’d be any good at it, but Tholme did that for him whenever he was in the throes of a psychometric vision. He hoped it would work for the boy too. He distantly heard a small gasp of relief followed by an increased weight on his shoulder.
Pulling out of the meditation, but keeping his shields raised, Quinlan peered down at the now sleeping redhead. Surprisingly, he felt his own exhaustion pulling him under and, for the first time in a year, he didn’t fight it.
Mace Windu was many things, but a morning person was not one of them. Nevertheless, the Force had deemed the ass-end of dawn to be an appropriate time to drag him out of bed and into the gardens. Not that he didn’t enjoy the scenery, but after returning from a grueling diplomatic endeavour-turned hostage negotiation not even three hours ago, he’d rather enjoy the pitch-black setting of his room.
Still, he was a Jedi and, as such, Mace’s duty would always be to follow the will of the Force. Today, it decided to lead him towards the forested areas where two younglings were huddled together at the base of a large tree, sleeping.
Mace tended not to spend a lot of time in the creche, but he recognized the Kiffar child as his friend Tholme’s unconventional Padawan. Quinlan Vos, he believed his name was. The other boy was a scrawny redhead with deeper bags under his eyes than most grown adults and the Force drew his attention to this boy in particular.
He sat down across from them, not wanting to disturb the younglings from their much-needed rest—at least someone got to sleep—and began his meditation. First, he settled himself. Worries about Depa’s upcoming trials and his own Mastery, plus the lingering emotions from his last mission. Once he was done, he reached out into the Force towards the boys, Mace noticed the shields wrapped tightly around them both. They were surprisingly well-maintained for their age. He couldn’t tell where the Kiffar began and the redhead ended. But, why were they were needed in the first place? While shielding during the night was common practice, this level was excessive.
Then, Mace noticed the raging storm of Cosmic Force circling the younger boy. It was as if the child was a gravity well, unconsciously pulling the energy towards him. It gave Mace a headache just looking at it and he quickly pulled away.
When he opened his eyes, the shatterpoints surrounding the redhead were equally as chaotic. The Force was casting its focus on him in a way that Mace had never experienced before. How was the child not completely overwhelmed? Perhaps, he was and the Crechemasters hadn’t noticed? There weren’t many Jedi who were strong in the Cosmic or Unifying Force. And, most tended to cast judgement on those who were. He remembered when his own abilities presented and the looks he’d received from his Teachers and peers whenever he disrupted his classes. As if he could control the random all-encompassing pain of a shatterpoint breaking.
Mace cast his attention back to young Quinlan. From what he knew, the boy hadn’t come to the Temple under the usual circumstances, his life already filled with torture and despair. Even with Mace’s frequent missions, he’d kept up with the Temple gossip mill. Many were worried that the boy wasn’t adjusting. That he was too quiet and withdrawn from his peers. But, all of his shatterpoints pointed towards a mischievous and caring nature just waiting to be unleashed.
“Hello,” a tired voice said, pulling Mace away from his musings. The redhead was awake and staring at him.
It was at that precise moment that he remembered that he was not good with children.
“Good morning,” Mace replied, wincing internally at the flatness of his tone. He knew that most younglings, even his own agemates, found him intimidating. It was a strength when it came to being taken seriously by his elders, but he didn’t exactly like being seen as someone that kids should cower away from.
“Are we in trouble?” the boy asked nervously.
Before Mace could reply, Quinlan stirred, grumbling at the disturbance. He smirked a little. It would seem that he wasn’t a morning person either. The redhead, however, didn’t seem to care as he began poking at his friend until he finally opened his eyes. “Why are we awake?” the Kiffar groaned and the younger boy gestured to Mace. Suddenly, Quinlan sat up and subtly maneuvered himself in front of his friend. “What do you want?” he asked suspiciously, which startled Mace before he noticed the genuine worry in the younger boy’s eyes.
“You needn’t be afraid, young ones,” Mace assured. “The Force led me here.” The Kiffar remained skeptical, but relaxed a bit. “Why are you here instead of in your beds?” he asked. It wasn’t an accusation, merely a curiosity. He wasn’t one to judge, after all. He’d snuck out plenty of times in his youth to try and alleviate the pain inside his head.
“My pillowcase belonged to a grieving Master, so I couldn’t sleep,” Quinlan shrugged, though his eyes looked haunted. Ah, Mace had heard about the boy’s psychometry. A rare gift like his own. He felt for him. “The Quartermasters have protocols for me, but sometimes things get mixed up when I have to stay in the creche.”
“I’ll have a talk with the Crechemasters about it,” Mace offered and Quinlan shrugged again. As if he wasn’t willing to believe it. He would definitely be bringing it up with the Council of First Knowledge. Younglings were meant to be guarded and cared for, which meant tending to their needs no matter the rarity of their abilities. There were protocols for a reason. He breathed his anger into the Force.
Turning his attention back to the smaller boy, he asked, “And, what about you?”
The redhead hugged himself tightly as he replied, “I…I had a nightmare.” Mace had a feeling it was more than that, given the level of Cosmic Force surrounding the child. “The…the Temple wasn’t safe anymore,” he whimpered and Mace felt a chill run up his spine as his statement rang true in the Force. “There was fire and blasters and lightsabers and…and…” his words trailed off as he ran towards a clearing and emptied his stomach. Quinlan followed, catching the boy when he collapsed. If this was a vision as Mace suspected, it was violently strong.
He made his way towards them and, with the older one’s permission, he lifted the redhead into his arms. The youngling trembled as he settled his head over his shoulder. Mace just barely heard his apology and shushed him. There was nothing to apologize for.
They walked back to the creche and Mace noticed that the Kiffar had reextended the shields over the boy, who had finally stopped shaking. He’d also added his own shielding, not wanting Quinlan to exhaust himself. The redhead snuffled a little, small hand clutching the front of his robes in his sleep. Mace had to admit, it was rather adorable.
Once they reached the main entrance, Crechemaster Vant rushed towards them. “Ah, Knight Windu, I see you’ve found Initiate Kenobi and Padawan Vos,” she breathed with relief. “I hope they haven’t given you any trouble?”
“Not at all, Master Vant,” he replied honestly. “I do have some questions, but they can wait until the younglings are settled. I recommend that Padawan Vos stay with the Initiate. His shielding seems to have calmed him.”
The Crechemaster seemed surprised, but also intrigued by his suggestion as she led them to Kenobi’s room. Inside, three other younglings were still sound asleep. Mace placed Kenobi onto the empty bed and Vos looked at them strangely when they gestured for him to join. But, his signature flared with relief-protect-care as he climbed in beside the younger boy.
“Thank you, Quinlan,” Vant whispered before they left.
Outside the room, Mace turned to the Crechemaster and asked, “How long has Initiate Kenobi been having visions?”
Vant sighed heavily. “We believe since he was born,” she answered and Mace’s eyes widened. That was not the answer he’d expected. “Obi-wan has always had way of knowing things. Feelings that always turn out to be right. But, the actual visions started last year. He doesn’t tend to remember much beyond vague flashes but, judging by the way he screams, I fear it’s probably for the best. Healer Che has been worried about the stress they’ve been putting on him. They cause vomiting, migraines and even seizures at times.”
Mace’s heart broke for the boy. What was the point of having the Force assault his mind in such a violent way if he couldn’t even remember it? He released his anger-frustration-resentment. “Has no one examined him? There are meditation techniques and medications that could alleviate some of his symptoms,” he said, not wanting to sound too accusing, but the boy had been suffering for years.
Vant looked just as bitter, but not at him. “We’ve sent requests to both the High Council and the Council of First Knowledge that have gone unanswered,” she muttered. “If we weren’t so understaffed, I would have given them both a piece of my mind in person. But, I have hundreds of younglings in my care, each with their own needs.” She wasn’t trying to excuse the matter, merely stating facts. Mace had been unaware of the staffing issue.
He did feel better knowing that they’d at least tried. Though, he would be sending a message to both Councils about their lack of response. Just like psychometry, there were protocols for seers that should have been followed. Assistance that should have been provided. Speaking of. “Padawan Vos was able to shield the youngling for a time, though I don’t think he realizes that Kenobi was doing the same. Together, they are quite formidable. Natural in a way I have never seen before,” he informed her.
“As far as I am aware, this is the first time they’ve met,” Vant replied curiously and Mace was honestly shocked by that revelation. Merging shields like that took a great deal of trust. It wasn’t something he’d expect from two younglings who’d only just met. “I haven’t seen Quinlan open up to anyone besides Master Tholme. Though, I’m glad it was Obi-wan. They both could use a friend,” she added solemnly.
Mace then informed the Crechemaster of why Quinlan was out of bed in the first place and she agreed to look into where the mistake was made and correct it. In return, he offered to speak to the Councils for her about the many concerns she’d brought up. He also offered to teach Obi-wan some of his meditation techniques.
With that, he left the creche with a warmth in his chest. It was something he hadn’t felt since the day he overheard ten-year-old Depa verbally eviscerating one of her agemates like a lethal sith-spawn for bullying a younger Initiate before slipping on a smile and walking away like nothing happened.
Obi-wan was grateful that Crechemaster Vant wasn’t upset with him, but he felt guilty that the older boy had to stay and babysit the weak little Initiate. Master Yoda said that Jedi were supposed to let go of their fear, but Obi-wan had never been a good Jedi. He was always afraid. Especially of his dreams. But, that wasn’t the other boy’s fault.
“You can go if you want,” Obi-wan said quietly.
“Do you want me to?” the boy asked hesitantly and Obi-wan tilted his head with confusion. No, he actually rather liked his company, but Jedi weren’t supposed to be selfish.
“Don’t you have important stuff to do?” he questioned and the boy snorted.
“I’d say this is pretty important,” he countered, pulling Obi-wan closer before he could argue. “I’m Quinlan by the way.”
“Obi-wan,” he replied. He shifted a little before asking, “Why did your pillow give you bad dreams?” Quinlan tensed and Obi-wan quickly assured that he didn’t have to answer. “The Force gives me bad dreams,” he told him. He supposed that some people wouldn’t like the Force all that much because of that, but his Teachers always said that the Force never gave more than he could handle. So, it must think that Obi-wan could handle a lot. He was trying. But, it got really tiring sometimes.
“I’m psychometric,” Quinlan admitted quietly. “I can feel memories and emotions when I touch things. But, I’m not the best at controlling it.” That was when Obi-wan realized that he was touching Quinlan and tried to pull away. “Hey, it’s okay.”
“Don’t wanna hurt you,” Obi-wan whimpered, feeling his lower lip wobbling. What if Quinlan saw his bad dreams?
“You won’t,” Quinlan assured. “I’ve got gloves on. It’s strongest in my hands.” Obi-wan relaxed a little. He sounded truthful. Still, he would ask next time. If there was a next time. He didn’t want to be rude.
Before he knew it, he was falling asleep again. He hadn’t slept so peacefully since the dreams began. But, he knew he shouldn’t get used to it. Quinlan wasn’t going to want to be his friend. Not when he realized what a terrible Jedi Obi-wan was.
When Tholme had gone down to the creche, Quinlan’s room was empty. He must have had another nightmare and chosen not to disturb him. He wished the boy would understand that he wasn’t a disturbance or a burden. That Tholme would happily help him whenever he needed. But, trust would take time. It may have been a year, but so many of those months had been spent bringing Quinlan back from the depths of his vision. Then, he’d needed to heal from the psychological damage done to him and adjust to life in the Temple.
Unfortunately, Quinlan was five when he was brought to Coruscant which was much older than most Initiates, so many of the younglings had shied away from the grieving newcomer. It didn’t help that Tholme had already taken him on as his Padawan, but that couldn’t be helped. Not when their bond had saved the boy’s life and the Force sang so beautifully with acceptance.
Tholme had still placed Quinlan in the creche whenever he was away on mission so that he might develop relationships with children his own age. But, the boy was reluctant to be put into a clan of his own. He feared that he would make the other younglings uncomfortable. So, the Crechemasters agreed to giving him his own room at the far end of the hall.
All that to say that receiving a message from Crechemaster Vant stating that his Padawan was currently sleeping in one of the Initiate rooms had come as quite the shock.
Tholme made his way towards the aforementioned room, unwilling to believe such a thing without solid evidence. But, the closer he got, the more he could sense Quinlan’s bright light within. His boy felt relaxed, happy and peaceful. It nearly made his sob with relief.
“Master Tholme,” Vant greeted with a smile, walking towards him as he stood frozen outside the door. “Quinlan is fine, he’s just getting some much-needed rest.” The shocks would never cease. “I actually wanted to discuss something with you.” She then led him into her office and asked if his Padawan might be willing to join a younger Initiate clan. “They’re a year below, but I believe that Quinlan and Obi-wan might equally benefit from the arrangement,” she explained and Tholme felt a spark of hope as she explained what had happened.
When she finally took him back to the room and opened the door, he smiled at the sight of the two boys curled up together. “Quin hasn’t felt at peace in a long time,” he commented as they walked back down the hall. Vant added that the same could be said for young Obi-wan and oh, how that clutched his heart. “I will offer him the choice, but I believe you are right. This would benefit them both.”