Not Changing My Mind Pairing: Qui-Gon/Mace Rating: adult situations mentioned Warnings: None. Challenge: For the Star Wars Fuh-Q-Fest, challenge B 30: "Mace's position on the council is threatened." Summary: Qui-Gon has concerns. Mace needs to get them into the open. Author's Notes: Betaed by gin_and_ironic. Thanks! Set pre-TPM, and pre-Jedi Apprentice series—some minor spoilers for the latter. "No," Qui-Gon said. "I don't want to. The Force doesn't want it. Nobody wants it—except for one misguided green troll who happens to hold all the strings around here. But I'm not doing it, and that's final. End of argument, Mace, let's have make-up sex." Mace looked at his lover; he was standing, arms folded, in the main room of Mace's quarters. Qui-Gon radiated fear—although he was clearly trying to crush it—and, worse, it was feeding into anger. This couldn't be good for him, let alone for the boy he was meant to train. Sex was tempting (it might release the tension, Mace rationalised briefly) but it would probably only delay any real solution. Sighing, Mace said, "Listen to yourself, Qui-Gon. I know you are afraid because of what happened to Xanatos, but a Jedi does not allow himself to be ruled by fear. Yoda is not the only one who believes you would train Obi-Wan Kenobi well." Qui-Gon shot him a look which plainly said, 'Traitor'. "You agree?" "He is highly connected to the Unifying Force; he needs your help to attain communion with the Living Force also. He is a good fighter—you know that, you've seen him. If he turns thirteen without a master, which he will in only a few weeks, he will be sent to the Agri Corps and never become the Jedi Knight the Force desires him to be." "I've heard all that before," Qui-Gon said, waving his hand dismissively. "We both know I've proved myself an incapable teacher. Find someone else to train him, if you're that keen to deprive the Agri Corps." Mace took a step forward, getting into the swing of the familiar argument. "The Council is swaying towards the Unifying Force. There is no-one else as strongly connected as you are to the Living Force. Besides, you need to let your grief over Xanatos go. You need to train another padawan, and Obi-Wan is a perfectly good candidate." "And turn him to the Dark Side?" Qui-Gon asked bitterly. "No!" Mace said sharply. He reached out and took Qui-Gon by the shoulders. "There's no reason to believe that anything except Xanatos' own fear and anger turned him to the Dark Side." Qui-Gon's blue eyes glared at him for a moment, then closed as Qui-Gon sighed, leaning forward into Mace's touch. Mace felt the wave of fear he released into the Force wash past him and fade away. "Well done," he said quietly. "Sorry," Qui-Gon said. "I… I'd only just come back from a mission when Yoda started nagging me about this, and I don't seem to have had any peace and quiet since then." Mace's grip on Qui-Gon's shoulders turned into a hug. He felt Qui-Gon relax against him. "You know," he said slowly, "I never did get to hear what happened out there on Onderon." "Nothing that dramatic," Qui-Gon said. "The Council would have made me repeat my report for you if there had been." "Still," Mace said. "You could tell me about it over dinner." Qui-Gon pulled back, suddenly grinning. "Dinner? That's a brilliant plan. A positive stroke of genius." "Why do you think they put me on the Council at only twenty-eight?" Mace enquired playfully. It was good to see the lighter side of Qui-Gon's mercurial nature, even if he knew the argument was only inches beneath the surface. Mace made Qui-Gon sit at the kitchen table while he put a quick meal together, on the pretext that too many cooks spoil the broth. "Well, what did happen? I don't mind listening to the boring bits." "It was really standard diplomatic work," Qui-Gon said. "Continuing tensions, you know the sort of thing. I was there to be an official Jedi presence, little more. No, that was all dull. It was…," he paused, "but anyway, I don’t actually know where you were while I was there. Anywhere interesting?" "At my desk doing paperwork," Mace replied, fiddling with the stove settings. "Oh, one day they have to replace this cooker. Never mind. What was what?" "Huh?" "You said, 'It was… but anyway', as if you wanted to say something but didn't. What was it?" "You don't need to worry about that," Qui-Gon said. "What are you cooking?" "You don't need to worry about that," Mace parroted. "And I promise I won't worry. Come on, there's clearly something there you're not saying—keep secrets you should not, as Yoda would say." "It's not really a secret," Qui-Gon said. "The Council does know, only…" "Only what?" "It involves you. A little bit." Mace swung around to face Qui-Gon, knife in hand. "And the rest of the Council saw fit not to tell me?" "Apparently," Qui-Gon said, attempting a roguishly innocent smile. "And you didn't encourage them to tell me?" "When has the Council ever listened to me?" "I'm listening now, Qui-Gon Jinn, and may the Force help you if you don't start talking." Qui-Gon held up his hands. "I surrender. I'll tell you, if you'll get dinner ready." Mace turned back to his work. "Talk." "It was on the transport ship on which I returned," Qui-Gon began. "There were a group of political lackeys there—the administrators of delegates who stayed behind to finish writing out a trade agreement, I think. Anyway, several of them knew senators, and, unaware that I was a Jedi, they were talking in the dining area one day about the plans of a few Senators, who wanted to find out how far the Jedi would really accept their rulings by requesting that someone be removed from the Council." "Me?" Mace guessed. Qui-Gon nodded, then realised that Mace couldn't see him. "Yes," he said. "Obviously, I didn't let them know I'd overheard or who I was, and when I arrived at the Temple I reported it to the rest of the Council, who have, I assume, taken appropriate actions." The saucepan on the stove began to bubble. "This is nearly ready," Mace said. "Is that all there was to it—an overhead plan discussed between the ill-informed assistants of a few Senators?" "Well…" Qui-Gon said. "Basically, yes." Something in Qui-Gon's voice alerted Mace—who knew him very well—to the fact that there was still something unsaid. "Only basically?" "One of the assistants was Senator Palpatine's aide," Qui-Gon said. "Palpatine, as in up-and-coming wants-to-be-Chancellor Palpatine? We are talking about the same man?" "We are." "Ah," Mace said. He spooned the stew straight onto a pair of bowls, and placed them on the table. "I see why that could be more of a problem. Now eat." "It made me think," Qui-Gon said, blatantly not eating anything, "that the Senate might not be stable for long. It made me think that this is a good time for the Jedi Order to have plenty of free Knights who can be sent wherever necessary at a moments' notice." Mace swallowed. "Eat something before I spoon-feed you," he said. "And let me guess: it made you think that this might not be a good time to take a padawan?" "No," Qui-Gon protested, "not exactly. Not at the time. But now that possibility has been put to me, it makes me think that, yes." "Nonsense," said Mace. "You do know you're not going to change my mind about this?" "I know you're not going to admit that I changed your mind," Mace said evenly. "That doesn't mean you won't change it. In any case, I want to be sure that you've considered all the angles." "I have," Qui-Gon sighed. "Now, how about considering—and perhaps experimenting with—the angles on something else?" "Such as?" Mace asked, though he knew the answer. Qui-Gon had arched one eyebrow, and was grinning… this could only end in one place. "Sex," Qui-Gon said with relish. Mace laughed, and resigned himself to ending up in bed.