Imperfect

Unwanted Recognition

            Qui-Gon made his way through the quiet corridors of the Jedi Temple with slow, measured steps. To onlookers, whether they were Jedi or not, the stolid gait would have seemed in harmony with the general quality of serenity within the Temple. Jinn, however, felt anything but serene. He was moving ever closer to a destination he earnestly did not want to reach, but he knew he must go. The reason was not for himself. No, there was little, if truly anything, that he could do to unburden his own heart, but perhaps it was not too late for another. Maybe, just maybe, Qui-Gon Jinn could do the right thing, say the right thing, to add to another's peace instead of destroying it.

"Master Jinn," Kit Fisto exclaimed softly. With a short nod he dismissed the padawan healer with whom he had been conversing and turned his full attention to the long haired master.

"Master Fisto," Qui-Gon intoned with a bow. Kit returned the gesture, but the brilliant smile he was known to sport was nowhere to be seen. Though Qui-Gon had secluded himself in his quarters for weeks, he suspected that Kit's smile had been missing for much of that time.

"It is good to see you," Kit said and Qui-Gon could feel the sincerity of his remark through the Force. The master managed a weak smile.

"I have recently come to certain realizations that demanded I change my previous behavior," he answered politicly. If the formality of his words offended the Nautolan master, Kit made no show of it. Qui-Gon glanced behind the other Jedi, his eyes darting towards the closed door and back.

"I'm certain she would be happy to receive you," Kit responded as if he were sensing the other man's thoughts. Qui-Gon's brow wrinkled slightly.

"I do not wish to intrude."

"There would be no intrusion. Go in. After days with only her dear old master for conversation, I'm sure she is in desperate need of better company," Kit replied, a glimmer of his old grin seen in the slight lifting of the corners of his thin lips. "Go in," he repeated then with a nod he moved away and down the quiet hall, his head tentacles swaying rhythmically with his gait. Qui-Gon returned his gaze to the door and, after a deep breath, palmed it open.

The room was like any of the other healing rooms in the ward – stark white and sterile – but in this room, the air was different. The humidity was thick and heavy causing Qui-Gon to feel like he had previously been drenched and had not yet fully dried off. Of course the atmospheric alteration was to make the current occupant more comfortable and all Jedi learned at a young age to adjust their body temperatures to a great number of environments. Therefore, it was only the scant matter of a few seconds before Qui-Gon had acclimated himself to the previously oppressive mugginess of the room. That done, the master's eyes then fell upon the room's sole occupant. Padawan Eerin had always been shorter than many of her fellows, but now she looked positively minuscule, her thin frame seemingly swallowed up by the lightly colored bed clothes of the medical couch. A starkly pale salmon-colored face turned towards him. Dulled, silver eyes soon settled upon him and a whisper of voice broke the quiet of the scene.

"Master Qui-Gon, I knew you would come," came a quiet voice from amidst the swaddle of blankets. Qui-Gon bowed slightly at the soft greeting, but the look in his midnight colored eyes communicated his acknowledgement of the strength the voice still carried.

"Then you are a far wiser Jedi than I have ever been," he began, his low baritone carrying easily through the all too quiet room. "But that is hardly surprising," he finished with a small smile as he came to stand by the side of the medical couch. His smile soon faded as he took in the pale, too dry skin of the young Jedi before dying him. Bant noticed his change in mood and met his somber gaze with a frown.