Chapter Text
Tholme’s eyebrows shot up at Quin’s sudden appearance at his side. The boy’s energy was chaotic, but not actively panicked, and Tholme watched him expectantly. Avoiding his Master’s eyes, Quin slowly slid into the chair at the table in silence. He looked disheveled and given that Tholme had left him in bed, he knew that Quin had rolled from the bed, pausing long enough to shove his boots on, before following their bond to find Tholme where he sat in one of the many gardens with Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon sat across from Tholme, their drinks momentarily forgotten on the table between them. Now, both of them studied the Kiffar youth in quiet anticipation. Quin stared at the table and said nothing.
“Quinlan? Are you well?” Tholme asked gently.
Quin nodded, still not looking up to see his eyes.
“Has something happened?”
Quin didn’t respond and Tholme pushed his chair back slowly. Reaching out, he snagged the arm of Quin’s robe and tugged him out of the chair and over to him. Gently, he pulled him into his lap, taking a moment to arrange him so that he was sideways, his head resting gently on Tholme’s shoulder. “Nightmares?”
To Qui-Gon’s watchful gaze, Quin didn’t respond, but something must have told Tholme he was right. “Do you want me to help you sleep?”
Quin shook his head, and to Qui-Gon’s surprise, Tholme accepted that and settled back against his chair, the boy still in his lap. He looked up at Qui-Gon apologetically and Qui-Gon shook his head slightly, before picking up their conversation on recent Senate appointments. Quin ignored them, keeping his face turned away from Qui-Gon, pressing slightly into Tholme, who held him gently as he continued their conversation. It took an hour before Qui-Gon felt Quin’s energy settle, dipping into the soft hum of sleep. Tholme glanced down, his expression soft, and then back up at Qui-Gon with a shake of his head. “Thank you, my friend, for not making an issue of Quin joining us.”
Qui-Gon smiled. “Of course not.” He sat back, pondering for a moment, and Tholme shot him a knowing look.
“Go on,” Tholme said. “I can feel you not asking.”
Qui-Gon chuckled. “Does he still suffer from nightmares often?”
Tholme lifted one shoulder in a shrug, looking suddenly exhausted. “Yes, although less often now than when we first came to Coruscant.”
Qui-Gon shook his head sympathetically. “Poor boy. And poor you. You must be as exhausted as he is.”
Tholme swallowed, exhaustion and emotion surging suddenly, and Qui-Gon’s eyes widened. He moved immediately around to sit at Tholme’s side, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Oh,” he said. “I didn’t realize.”
Tholme shook his head, his eyes suddenly damp. “I’m sorry. But believe it or not, this is so far from where we started. He wouldn’t leave our apartment voluntarily for almost two months after we arrived. Now, he’s comfortable enough to try, at least. He’s going to classes. He’s training. I know he struggles, but I’m so proud of him.”
“I can see that,” Qui-Gon smiled. “And how are you?”
Tholme shook his head, and reached up to rub his eyes, the dampness spilling over. “I’m tired,” he said honestly. “You asked me once if he was worth it, and he is. But this is hard.”
Qui-Gon tightened his grip on Tholme’s shoulder. “How can I help?”
Tholme sighed. “You already have, my friend. I know you keep an eye on him in morning meditations, and we are both grateful, even if he won’t admit it. His sleep is so unregulated he needs the focus that meditation gives. He just can’t always stay awake.”
Qui-Gon chuckled. “Neither can half the padawans, but without such a valid excuse.” Tholme smiled back, but it didn’t fully reach his eyes and Qui-Gon shook his head, before asking softly, “Tholme, what happened? You were so set against taking a padawan. You accepted the role of Jedi Watchman precisely because it removed that expectation. You don’t have to tell me details, but I know you engaged in some other project of your own at the same time. How did you even come to take on a padawan under those circumstances?”
“I didn’t want to,” Tholme said after a moment. “I knew the moment I met Quin that he was Force-sensitive. It didn’t take long before I knew it was more than sensitivity. Even untrained, he was tapping into his Force-abilities. I assessed him, and his numbers were so high that I wanted to send him to the Temple even though he was much older than normally allowed. I petitioned the Sheyf, but he denied my request. Kurlin is his great uncle and has no heir.” Qui-Gon’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Kiffar politics would never have allowed it.”
“I see,” Qui-Gon said slowly.
“Quinlan was never supposed to be my apprentice,” Tholme said softly. “But he needed help, guidance. His use of the Force was wild and unpredictable and uncontrolled. He was a danger to himself and to others. I convinced his parents and the Sheyf to let me tutor him in the ways of the Force.”
Qui-Gon sat back, nodding thoughtfully, and Tholme continued after a momentary pause. “The bond formed within days, although he didn’t realize it and I’m ashamed to say that I denied it, and more than half convinced myself that he was only a student. I’ve trained many students in many things, but this was different. He became my shadow.” Tholme smiled fondly, eyes flickering. “A tiny, mischievous shadow.”
“Kiffar politicians took exception and pressured the Sheyf. Their distrust of Jedi goes deep, remnants of eons past. I argued against it, but the Sheyf sent me away. I was gone for less than three days before Quin’s tantrum over it blew out one of the electrical storage batteries and set half the palace on fire.”
Qui-Gon’s eyebrows went up. “He must be quite strong.”
Tholme chuckled, and the mirth sounded real. “Let’s just say that I was hastily summoned back and welcomed with open arms. We started training in earnest then, but it still took months to gain approval from both the Sheyf and the Jedi Counsel. At that point it didn’t matter, and I wasn’t lying to myself anymore. I didn’t intend to take on a padawan. I never intended to take on a padawan, but I’ve never been surer of anything in my life than that I am supposed to train this boy.”
“What of his parents?” Qui-Gon asked after a moment. “I know only that they died under tragic circumstances.”
“They were murdered,” Tholme said quietly, carefully locking down his emotions to avoid feeding them to Quin, who still slept in his lap. “By Anzanti assassins. I have no proof of who ordered the hit, or why, but I have strong suspicions. The timing was too convenient. I was away, following a trail of rumors of a Dark Jedi on Kiffex, when I heard of Pethros’s and Quian’s murder.” Tholme paused, grief passing over his face. “You would have liked them, Qui-Gon.”
Breathing out, Tholme continued, “It took me several days to make it back to the palace, and before I could return, Quin…” Tholme’s voice broke, and he bit his lip and looked away for a moment before meeting Qui-Gon’s eyes. “As young as he was, Quin’s psychometric powers far outstripped anyone else on Kiffu. He was given Quian’s Guardian medallion and asked to read it for impressions. I would have stopped it, had I been there. She was wearing it when she was murdered, and the visions overwhelmed him.”
Qui-Gon sucked in a breath. “That poor boy.”
“It nearly killed him,” Tholme said, voice shaking slightly. “It took three days to pull him from the psychometric looping nightmare. Three days where he re-lived his parents’ murder over and over, seeing it, feeling it from Quian’s point of view. He’s had nightmares ever since. “ Tholme reached up to rub his face tiredly. “It’s better now. At first, it was every time he fell asleep. He refused to sleep at all, and I had to drug him, and even then, he would have hysterics unless I was next to him. The nightmares plagued him, relentlessly. Every night, several times a night.” Tholme breathed out slowly. “He became so ill. And it wasn’t safe for him on Kiffu anymore. Kurlin finally agreed that I could bring him to Coruscant. We left in the middle of the night, in secret, to avoid trouble from the factions that objected. I’d hoped that the change of scenery would break the cycle, but even here, the dreams continue. We sometimes have nights without them, but not many. Still, he is improving, and I have hope.”
Qui-Gon sat back, eyes still watching Tholme intently. “What comes next? What of his family on Kiffu?”
“Kurlin is healthy,” Tholme said, sidestepping the question. “He may rule for a long time to come.”
“Tholme,” Qui-Gon replied, and Tholme gave him a sharp look.
“I don’t know what will come to be,” Tholme said wistfully. “Quinlan may eventually have to make a choice. He wouldn’t be the first. But until that day, he will stay with me. And on that day, it may come to pass that I will stay with him.” He lifted a hand and gently pushed a loc of hair off Quin’s forehead. “Right now, he wouldn’t be able to withstand that burden. Right now, he needs time, to rest, to heal, to grow, to learn, to simply be. He is strong and he has a good heart. The Force will guide him, even as it guides us all.”
Qui-Gon picked up his drink and sipped it thoughtfully. “You have changed, old friend. You did not believe so strongly that the Force would offer guidance before. You were more of a practical Force advocate.”
Tholme harrumphed, picking up his drink and following Qui-Gon’s example. Then he shrugged, his expression tinged with sheepishness. “Now I know differently.” Setting his drink down, he waved a hand at Qui-Gon, “But don’t start going on about Force prophecies. I have enough to worry about without trying to discern the future.”
Qui-Gon chuckled again. “You do have your hands full with this one. Literally and metaphorically.”
Tholme lifted one shoulder, his eyes suddenly piercing. “And what of you, Qui-Gon? Will you take on a new apprentice?”
Qui-Gon shook his head slowly. “I have no such plans at this time.”
“Ah,” Tholme said, eyes twinkling. “But the Force may have different plans.”
Qui-Gon shook his head. “I do not think so.”
Tholme nodded, picking up his goblet, and hid his smile in the last sip of wine.