Chapter Text
The Jedi Council rejects Quinlan’s request to begin training Aayla almost as soon as the paperwork has been submitted.
It’s not a complete rejection, fortunately. Their response is predicated on both Aayla’s age and Quinlan’s, insisting that she needs to meet certain standards in her coursework in order to be considered for padawanship so young and he needs to sign up for a mentoring course in the meantime to prove that he’s ready.
It’s a bump in the road, but Quinlan’s had those before. He can be patient.
The Council is too distracted by other matters to pay close attention to Quinlan, anyway. A rash of murders in the Senate has them scrambling to work with Supreme Chancellor Kaj and the Senate Guard to catch the culprit, and even though everyone on the Council seems only concerned with the unrest in the capitol, Quinlan is sure they’re also working furiously to counter whatever Mandalore has going on.
If anything, they are likely happy for him to focus on something other than his missing friend. They’ve kept Obi-Wan’s defection under wraps, but they can’t hide that he’s missing. Even with Qui-Gon still deployed to provide protection on Mandalore, word has gotten around that his Padawan is no longer with him.
They also can’t hide that the galaxy is gearing up for war, though Quinlan has yet to hear any word in the Temple itself of the accusations against the Jedi. Even his contacts in the underworld are barely whispering about it, too concerned with the sudden gruesome deaths of an entire aged generation of Senators to pay anything but fleeing attention to rumbles of unrest on Mandalore. Whatever Fett’s plan is, it’s clearly not fully hatched yet.
Luckily for Quinlan, the Council is not interested in looking too closely at his attempts to meet their demands, and the Temple offers a long-distance mentoring course for those away on missions. His mission is undercover work without a concrete objective - maintaining his cover requires being seen going about daily life every once in a while in some of the seedier parts of the galaxy - and it leaves him plenty of free time.
When he’s not drinking in bars and picking fights, that is.
Still, even the general debauchery he gets up to for his mission and the work he has to do for his class aren’t enough to distract him from his true objective. There’s no way to secret Aayla away to bring back her soulmark when she’s still stuck at the Temple, so he turns to the other side of the equation - her soulmate.
It is, after all, easier to return a soulmark when both halves of the soul are present.
He considers, for many sleepless nights, the option of calling Obi-Wan to pick his brain about his own experience - any clues, maybe, that hindsight has made him realize indicated his soulmate’s identity - but ultimately rejects the notion.
From what he’s heard from Myles, if Obi-Wan had had any indication of Jango’s identity, things would likely have gone much differently.
And, if Quinlan were interested in being honest with himself (which he’s not, really), he’d - well -
He’s a bad enough Jedi to admit that his initial reaction, when he realized what the Council had done, was to act out of anger. Anger for himself, for being so easily duped into being their pawn, but mostly for Obi-Wan and Aayla, and what had been stolen from them. He’d tracked down Jango and offered his services, determined to right the wrong that had been done, and he doesn’t regret restoring Obi-Wan’s soulmark, not with the state he’d been in when he’d found them -
But it had been jarring, on the trip back from Tython, to see Obi-Wan with his soulmate. Not that he was different, really, than the kid Quinlan had grown up with, but his focus on Jango - and the stories Myles had told of Obi-Wan’s initial attempts to escape - well.
Quinlan’s not avoiding Obi-Wan, really. He’s just not convinced he’s the resource he needs right now.
Instead, he throws himself into his research, digging deeper into the Temple records he’d already cracked to find a list of those with stolen soulmarks. Perhaps, if he strikes up conversations with those Jedi when he’s back on Coruscant, he can feel out what to look for when searching for Aayla’s soulmate.
It’s on one of his infrequent visits back to the Temple that Luminara finds him, the last of his crechemates still on Coruscant now that Bant has been knighted and left to provide medical aid to a small planet on the far reaches of the Republic. Luminara is close to knighting - likely only one more mission away - and only someone who has known her as long as Quinlan has could spot the frustrated energy lurking under her calm demeanor as she waits for her promotion.
“Watching the news?” she asks as she slides in across from him in the mess hall. The vidscreens have been showing nothing but updates on the Senate all day and a reporter is currently droning along in front of an empty podium in advance of the speech of some Senator recently promoted from junior to senior. Whoever had done this, they’d been going for maximum chaos - the heads of the Banking Clan and the Trade Federation had been murdered at the same time and in the same way.
“Always,” he says around a mouthful of soup. It’s even true, these days, for all that he’d flagrantly ignored anything approaching current events when he’d been an Initiate. Being a Shadow means being constantly aware of the shifting political landscape, both for self-preservation and to do his job well.
“So sad,” she says solemnly. “All those poor senators.” She folds her hands in her lap, watching him carefully over her tray as he hums his agreement.
It’s almost a game, at this point, identifying when Luminara wants to tell him something but just can’t be the first to give news. She raises an eyebrow at him, clearly only her ever-present politeness keeping her from blurting out whatever she wants to tell him.
“Heard they’re planting some new trees in the gardens,” he says instead, licking his spoon. “Might take Aayla to go see them later.”
“A wonderful idea,” she says, almost vibrating in her seat. “She’ll love that.”
“Yep. Big fan of trees, that one.” He inspects the roll on his tray carefully, turning it in his hands and avoiding Luminara’s gaze. “Which is fascinating, since Ryloth is mostly - ”
“Rock and scrub, yes,” Luminara finishes for him. He shoots her a glance and notices the way her cheeks darken behind her tattoos, flushing at the audacity of her own interruption. She continues, quickly, “I’m certain that is the reason behind her interest, and your care for her happiness will ensure you are a wonderful Master to her once the Council signs off on it.”
“Luminara, you flatter me.” Quinlan gives her a grin, slowing his speech just enough to draw the words out a little longer and turning his gaze back to his roll. “And, you know, I really think it’s just fascinating, when you get right down to it, for someone raised in a place like that -”
“Mm-hm,” Luminara hums, just a hair too loudly to be an invitation for him to continue, but he does anyway.
“- and I really just think it says so much about her connection to the Force and I appreciate so much about that -”
“Connection, of course.”
“And I think what I’m going to appreciate most when I’m training her, Luminara, is how she just tells me anything, whatever’s on her mind, just lets it all spill out and doesn’t hold back a single detail-”
“Quinlan Vos, you are a menace.” Luminara’s roll smacks him in the face, and only his quick reflexes keep it from bouncing to the floor. “Why can’t you ever just ask.”
“Oh, is that all you wanted?” Quinlan asks innocently. “Why, Luminara, did you have something to tell me?”
She huffs at him, plucking her roll back out of his hand, but her irritation is forgotten as she leans forward to whisper, “I’ve been assigned a mission!”
That is news. Quinlan usually has a better ear to the ground for these things, even without Master Tholme to feed him information, but he has been - distracted.
“That’s great,” he says, and he means it. Her and Obi-Wan had both been chomping at the bit these last few months, ready for their next steps. “What’s the mission?”
“It’s - oh.” She frowns up at the screen, where the senator has finally taken the stage. “Actually, that’s where I’ll be going.”
Quinlan squints to read the chyron under the lavishly dressed Human giving a sad account of his predecessor’s accomplishments. “Nubia?”
“Naboo,” Luminara corrects. “The natives are called Nubians. Native Humans, anyway. There are apparently aquatic natives that keep to themselves known as Gungans.”
“You chasing down whoever murdered their Senator?”
Luminara sighs. “Probably not, but we’re not ruling it out. There’s a trade disagreement and we’re being sent to mediate. The Trade Federation has set up some kind of blockade and is claiming - ” She frowns, stopping to think.
“Better study up,” Quinlan says, trying to hide his smile.
She scowls at him. “I received this assignment an hour ago, Quinlan, I’m working on it.”
“Think this is it?”
She doesn’t need to ask what it he’s referring to. “Oh, I hope so,” she says longingly. “I know Obi-Wan still hasn’t been Knighted, either, but I’m ready. We both are.”
Quinlan is well aware that it is only the imminent need for more Shadows and Master Tholme’s sudden undercover assignment that made his number come up for Knighthood two years ago, long before any of his crechemates. Still, if he’s ready -
“You are,” he assures her. “You have been. They’ll see that.”
“Yes,” she says firmly. She glances down at her hands for a moment, though, and when she slants him a look, it’s clear something else is on her mind.
“Any word of Obi-Wan?” she asks quietly. “If you can say, I mean.”
Quinlan winces. It’s been hard enough just hiding his Shadow work from his crechemates, but this -
He’ll tell her. He has to. But not now, and not here.
“They say he’s fine,” he says instead. “He’s being treated well, and they’re negotiating for his release.”
It’s the line the Council has fed him every time he’s asked about the situation, and - well, it’s not exactly untrue.
“Right.” Luminara’s eying him carefully, brow furrowed, but she lets it slide. “When you have more information, please pass it along.”
“You know it.” He forces himself to smile and point finger blasters at her like it’s any other day, and they’re not discussing the imprisonment of one of their oldest friends. “I’ll pass that right along.”
The answer, when it comes to him, makes him want to beat his head against the wall at his own idiocy. He’d been so caught up in his worry for Obi-Wan, his research into other Jedi whose soulmarks had been stolen, that he’d forgotten he has a holocron that he’s already used to return a stolen soulmark. If anyone could teach him how to find Aayla’s soulmate, it’s -
“Master Shan.” Quinlan bows low. “I am Quinlan Vos, Jedi Knight. I seek your wisdom.”
As she does every time, the specter bows in response and smiles. For all that she is an engaging conversationalist once the holocron is open, she never has any memory of their previous discussions.
“Knight Vos,” she says, as predictable as Coruscant’s weather. “What wisdom may I offer you?”
“- and then he told me I’m never going to be able to help on missions if I can’t even convince him.”
Quinlan hums along to Aayla’s story as he lays sprawled out on the grass of the Temple courtyard. It’s good practice, splitting his attention like this; Master Tholme had often given him tasks that would require him to use the Force while maintaining engaging conversation, but this time, at least, he’s got more motivation to succeed.
“You’ll get there,” he says, not letting up on his subtle Force probe of her forearm. Master Shan had warned him he might not be able to truly sense the mark as he was stimulating it, and she hadn’t been wrong. It doesn’t really feel like he’s doing anything despite the hour or so he’s been at it.
“Not fast enough,” Aayla grumbles, letting her head fall back against the tree trunk behind her. “My astronav scores are way up now, so I just need to get my diplomacy scores up and I’ll be good.” She pauses for a moment to brush a hand back against the trunk, some of the tension on her face easing at the contact.
Temple rumor says the Great Tree is sentient, but so old it has slept for centuries so no one is able to commune with it. Obi-Wan had researched the rumor ferociously, as determined as ever to solve any mystery in front of him, but Quinlan refuses to be dissuaded by his friend’s inability to confirm or deny. It is a fact that the tree has stood in these gardens so long even Master Yoda doesn’t remember its planting, and it is a fact that it hums with a more vibrant sense of life than those around it, and that is enough for him.
It’s also Aayla’s favorite - both the rumor and the tree - and he has no intention of ruining any of the delight she takes in the mysteries the galaxy might hold for her.
“You’ve got time.” Quinlan turns his head to give her a rueful grin. “My class isn’t over til midcycle, so they won’t let you be my Padawan til then, anyway.” Six whole months; at least it would give him plenty of time to continue his search for her soulmate.
“That’s dumb.” Aayla drags a finger along the edge of her datapad sulkily. “You don’t need that class to be a good Master.”
“Eh, it’s good practice.” He gives her a nudge with his foot, lifting his head off the grass to look her in the eye. “And so is training in diplomacy with someone like Master Shaf.”
“But he’s so annoying,” she groans, shoving his foot away. “I swear, he’s just saying he’s not convinced to mess with me. If he’d just let me do my test on Depa, or Tan, or Tae -”
“Right, because convincing people who like you is so hard.” Quinlan nudges again at his sense of her forearm. It’s probably about time to test it, so if he just probes it a bit more to be sure - “Trust me, Aayla, half the people you have to talk to out in the galaxy are going to annoy the crap out of you, and you’re still going to have to figure out how to convince them you’re right. You think I’m meeting nice people when I’m out doing Shadow work?”
She scowls at him. “Your mentoring class is making you less fun, you know that, right?”
He smirks at her. “And your diplomacy class isn’t making you a better liar.”
“Is so.” She lifts her nose in the air imperiously, but can’t quite hide the smile tugging at her lips.
“Alright, I won’t argue with you.” Quinlan laughs and levers himself up into a sitting position. No time like the present. “But hey - you want to help me with something?”
“What?” Her eyes light up as she tosses her datapad to the side, homework forgotten. “Is it Shadow stuff?”
“Maybe someday, if I can make it work when I want it to,” he hedges. He’d practiced his excuse, but it doesn’t make it any easier to keep things from her. “But I’ve been trying to see if I can get my psychometry to work better on people instead of just things. Can I practice on you?”
“Ooo.” There’s no hesitation in her, no worry about what he could see, just excitement. It hurts a little, the trust she’s showing in him when he’s not telling her the whole truth. “So you could, like, see what I ate for breakfast?”
“Something like that,” he laughs. “Do you mind?”
“That would be so cool,” she breathes. “What do I do?”
“Just sit still and give me your arm.” He points at the one he wants, and she lifts it obediently.
This part had been difficult for Master Shan to describe; she didn’t have psychometry, back when she was alive, and it is all just a theory based on observed Force interactions. Just focus, she’d said, and build upon your preexisting connection.
Quinlan’s never really had to focus to use his psychometry; it just happens, whether he wants it to or not. Master Tholme has always had an offbeat sense of humor - part of what makes them a good team, Quinlan likes to think - and he’d likened psychometry to learning to use the ‘fresher as a kid. Eventually, he’d said, Quinlan would be able to hold off his visions without thinking and only ‘let loose’ when he truly wanted to.
(He’d also made quite a few jokes about wetting the bed and learning to aim that a preteen Quinlan had very much appreciated, and adult Quinlan has no intention of ever repeating near Aayla. He needs to maintain some semblance of dignity around her.)
But Master Shan had seemed certain this would be different, for all that he would be using the same skills, so Quinlan clears his mind of everything but the child in front of him. He can remember the shape of Aayla’s soulmark, stark against her blue skin. She’d been so tiny when he’d found her, so bright in the Force, and he focuses on that feeling as he closes his hand around the center of her forearm, fingers flattening over unmarked skin-
Bright! Bright lights, bright walls, flashes of blaster fire bright against -
pounding feet, pounding rain, pounding in his head -
eyes so deep a brown they seem to glow with warmth as they lift to see -
vines growing and twisting and flowers springing up up up around the hilt of -
“See anything?”
Oh, yes. Quinlan takes a steadying breath, shaking his head to clear the spots dancing behind his eyelids. He lets his hand brush the sleeve of her tunic as he draws it back and smiles at what he sees there. “I see that you’ve been sneaking your tubers onto Olin’s plate when he’s not looking.”
Aayla frowns, easily distracted. “He’s too skinny, Quinlan. He needs it more than me.”
He pokes her in her ribs, right where he knows it will make her giggle and squirm. Soon she’ll be too old for tickling, but for now - “You’re one to talk, sweetheart. Let the adults worry about Ferus; you eat what they give you.”
She scowls at him for a moment, but then her eyes brighten. “So you did see something! Master Che says you have to be super powerful to see things when you touch people.”
Not just saw, though Quinlan can’t tell her that. Not yet. But Master Shan had been right - even aside from what he’d seen, he’d sensed something in her mark, like a homing beacon that should be drawing her in.
With any luck, he’ll be able to follow that connection all the way across the galaxy to her soulmate.