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Rael sighed as he looked at the one standing next to him. He took a sip of his wine.
“Qui-Gon.” He called for the other one. And the taller one turned to look at him.
“What’s wrong?” Qui-Gon asked. His voice was soft, but Rael could hear him clearly.
“I know something’s bothering you.” Rael set his cup on the balcony’s railing. His expression was rarely this serious when in front of his padawan brother. He has no intention of joking around right now. “You know you can always talk to me.” Rael smiled, “Just like I told you back in the day. Whatever you couldn’t tell Master Dooku, you can come and find me. It’s the same now.”
Qui-Gon’s face is a bit hard to read under the dim light. They were standing on the balcony of Rael’s room, and the only lighting they had there was the shimmering moonlight pouring down from Pijal’s moon. It was only enough to light up Qui-Gon’s brow bridge. Rael couldn’t see his eyes.
“I don’t know what else I can do, Rael.” Qui-Gon finally broke the silence. It had been too long since he showed someone else how lost he felt sometimes. He was feeling a bit discomfort, the kind that the fear of showing others his vulnerability brought forward. But this was Rael. Qui-Gon knew he could still trust him like he was a kid, even though decades had passed. Rael hummed in acknowledgment, giving him space to go on.
Qui-Gon exhaled. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m not ready at all.” He looked down at his own cup of wine, turning it slightly in his hands. “Like I haven’t done anything well enough.” A small, humorless chuckle left him. “It’s absurd, isn’t it? I feel that way, too.”
Rael reached out to grip Qui-Gon’s shoulder, not tightly, but firm enough to ground him. Qui-Gon turned his head slightly at the touch. “Obi-Wan deserves someone better. Not me. And as for the seat on the Council…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It’s not that I think they shouldn’t listen to more voices. It’s just—”
“I know, Kid.”
Qui-Gon fell silent again. Rael gave him a moment before speaking, “No one can always be prepared for everything. And you, you need to remember that you’re a person while being a Jedi, Qui-Gon. No matter how strong or capable you’ve become, there will always be moments when you don’t know what to do. And that’s fine.”
He paused, tilting his head slightly. The moonlight was caught in Qui-Gon’s eyes as he turned back to look at him. They were still the same blue eyes as Rael remembered. He asked a question, staring into those clear eyes, “Tell me, Qui-Gon, when was the last time someone told you that you are enough?”
“I don’t need–”
“Don’t try to give me those banthashit.” Rael’s grip on his shoulder remained steady. He didn’t look away. “Just give me a number. No need to be specific. Tell me.”
Qui-Gon held his gaze for a long moment. Then, finally, he dropped his eyes, sighing. “Maybe the last time I saw you.”
Rael laughed. It was hard to tell the meaning behind that laughter.
“I got you something.” He said abruptly. Qui-Gon blinked, slightly in confusion, clearly not following the sudden change in the topic. Before he could respond, Rael reached for something on the nearby tea table. He brought forward a small potted plant, its leaves vibrant and lively. Qui-Gon carefully took over the pot from Rael, gently touching the green leaves with his fingertips. Rael had probably just watered it, or perhaps the night had left its own dewdrops. A few crystal-clear droplets still clung to the leaves, dampening Qui-Gon's fingertips. When he looked back up, Rael was already watching him, smiling too. He gestured toward the plant with a tilt of his chin. “I know you like living things.” Qui-Gon hummed, feeling the quiet hum of the plant in the Force. It was a gentle, steady presence, like a whisper meant just for him. The tension in his shoulders eased, his mind settling into something calmer, something quieter.
“Haven’t changed at all.”
Qui-Gon snapped back from the trance and felt a rare hint of embarrassment. He hadn’t been understood this well in a long time. There were others in the Temple whom he had known for years, even some he considered friends, but there was no one quite like Rael, who was almost like an older brother to him. Rael knew his past, his way of thinking, and countless other things—some of which he might not have even realized himself.
“How’s that even possible.” Qui-Gon muttered, fingers still lightly resting on the plant.
Rael snorted. “Doesn’t matter what you say. I still see the same Qui-Gon Jinn I knew.”
Qui-Gon didn’t say anything more. He didn’t know what he could say. He could negotiate peace in the middle of the fiercest crossfire, yet now, in front of an old friend, he couldn't find a single word to say. Rael’s Force presence burned bright beside him, almost scalding. He had always known that he and his Padawan brother were utterly different. Rael seemed to exist at the extremes of things, while he remained steady, seemingly unshaken no matter what happened. Rael was his opposite, someone he could never become. And yet, Qui-Gon had always enjoyed his presence, from the moment he first met him at twelve years old to now, at forty.
But they were alike, too. Shaped by the same Master, equally at odds with the Jedi Council. He supposed, in the end, Rael was the one who truly understood him. And he, in turn, was the one who understood Rael.
It was then Qui-Gon realized that he missed Rael.
"Rael..."
He wanted to say that he was forty now, that he had his own Padawan. That even the things he had never imagined would happen had happened—the Council had invited him to join them. He wanted to tell him that everything was different, that he had changed completely, that he was no longer the clueless boy he used to be.
But the words caught in his throat after Rael’s name, refusing to come out. Because he felt the hand that had merely rested on his shoulder had begun to toy with his hair, twirling the loose strands between his fingers, again and again. Just like he used to when Qui-Gon first started growing it out. Back then, it had barely been long enough to brush past his neck. Rael would sometimes throw an arm around his shoulder when they talked, absentmindedly twisting the soft strands of his younger self’s flaxen hair. They had been nearly the same height then.
Qui-Gon's expression was hard to read, but the Force never lied. Even after all these years, the bond between them remained, and through that old connection, Rael could feel every ripple of emotion coming from the other end. He let out a quiet, knowing smile and tugged Qui-Gon a little closer. Qui-Gon didn’t resist, allowing the older man to pull him in.
Rael’s fingers hooked onto Qui-Gon’s already-loosened hair tie, and with a gentle tug, it slipped free. Qui-Gon’s long hair, usually tied at the back, cascaded down, a few strands brushing over his shoulders and falling against his face.
No one spoke.
Rael looked at him, his fingertips absently rubbing the hair tie as if he was hesitating. But in the end, he let out a quiet sigh and reached out, brushing aside the strands of hair framing Qui-Gon’s face. "Don't move," he said. His fingers slipped through the loose strands, gathering them bit by bit and carefully tying them back. The hair tie wrapped around, slowly tightening. His movements were more deliberate than when he had undone it. It was like they were carrying a quiet familiarity, a touch of unspoken memory. He secured the tie, and his fingers lingered for a brief moment. Maybe he was just checking his handiwork, or maybe he was holding onto some fleeting illusion.
Qui-Gon finally raised a hand, brushing lightly over the freshly tied hair at the back of his head. His gaze lowered slightly like he was lost in thought, a distant echo of something long past. Rael let go and stepped back, raising an eyebrow. "That’s more like a master," he remarked, his tone carrying the familiar edge of teasing.
Qui-Gon tilted his head slightly, glancing at him, but did not say anything back.
Rael’s lips twitched. It was almost a smile. He paused for a moment, gaze lingering on Qui-Gon’s face. He stared at him for a moment before finally speaking in a quiet voice, "I'm proud of you, Qui-Gon, seeing you as you are now." His voice lacked its usual casualness, "You've already done better than both me and Dooku."
For a moment, the air seemed to still. Qui-Gon did not answer immediately. After a brief silence, he merely tilted his head, his gaze lowered.
Rael watched him but said nothing more. He knew there was no need.
END.