By afternoon, Leilani walked around with her second lightsaber attached to her belt, escorting Anakin towards the council room, as Qui-Gon asked her. But only after a swift detour, so the boy could say goodbye to one of Queen Amidala's handmaidens. She smiled when he requested as so; observing how smitten he was with a girl called Padmé — but nevertheless, they didn't find her there.

Anakin was...lost and enamoured at the same time — as the woman drove the speeder with ease. Never did he see so many buildings, all in different sizes, shapes — nor this many people, from around the galaxy, different species yet all living in considerable peace here. Yet, if it weren't for Leilani, he would've got lost in the Senate building and the Temple too; so despite his curiosity and want to stop in every second to observe yet another fascinating object or construction, he followed her obediently. After all, he was in a foreign place, far from home and with only the woman to guide him — so he clung to her with all his might.

Then, they finally reached the Council chamber, with Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon already waiting outside and ushering Anakin in.

"Hey, Ani, you'll be fine," Leilani murmured, her fingertips grazing lightly over his shoulders. It wasn't that Anakin appeared particularly scared; in fact, his demeanour exuded a quiet resolve. Yet, despite his outward composure, Leilani felt an unspoken need to offer reassurance, a subtle gesture born of instinct and empathy.

The boy responded with a nod, his gaze steady as he prepared to step through the threshold of the Council chamber. With a sense of purpose, Anakin disappeared beyond the towering doors.

Left standing in the hallway, Leilani watched as Obi-Wan silently departed too, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors, with only a fleeting glance passing between them.

"I do...apologise for Obi-Wan's behaviour," Qui-Gon justified as he noticed Leilani's lingering gaze on his Padawan's now distant form. "He's been on edge, in the past few days especially."

"You don't have to make excuses for him; duty and the pressure have an effect on all of us — now seemingly more than ever. Everything feels upside down, the Senate, the Republic and now this public invasion on Naboo, too. It feels out of place, wrong, corrupt. We all sense it, as a disturbance in the force — yet we both are aware that's not what his manner is influenced by," she sighed. "He is masking being hurt behind stoicism and snark glances."

"You know him well."

"I used to." Emphasising made it become all too real, shameful, even — and the thought of it subconsciously urged her to lower her head.

"If It does offer any help; I don't think that he does remember. He is rather seldom crossed, not knowing why but acting on it all the same."

"Perhaps he just takes pleasure in it," she remarked. "But the fact is, that I remember and even if it was a while ago, it still halfway haunts me."

Qui-Gon took the moment to plant his palm on her shoulder, nudging her body closer, almost enveloping her in an embrace — but rather just cautiously stopping inches away.

She looked at him again, attempting to straighten her posture, before continuing; "Be as it may, it has helped me, it taught me...and after all, it was the will of the Force."

Qui-Gon smiled. "You're getting wiser by every day, *lysara."

"Truly, it's all thanks to Dooku and you, **vor'kesh." The words rang true in Leilani's mind as she reflected on the years they had spent together, bound by bonds of kinship and Jedi duty. In the intricate tapestry of their lives, Dooku had been the influential figure, a guiding presence who had shaped her in ways she could scarcely fathom. Yet, Qui-Gon... Qui-Gon was different.

He had been more than a mentor; he had been a pillar of strength in moments of turmoil, a flare of wisdom amidst the chaos of emotion. Whenever her tumultuous feelings threatened to overwhelm her, Qui-Gon was there, guiding her back to the path of serenity, teaching her the ways of the living Force with patience and understanding. Even when Dooku had departed the temple, leaving behind a void that seemed insurmountable, it was Qui-Gon who had remained by her side. In the wake of betrayal and uncertainty, he had offered solace and support, holding her close as she grappled with the weight of disillusionment.

For years, their lives had been dedicated to the Jedi Order, every decision made with the Order's best interests at heart. When Dooku had turned away from that path, it had felt like the ultimate betrayal, shaking the very foundation of her beliefs. But with time came understanding, acceptance, and forgiveness. She had welcomed Dooku back into her life, trusting in the bonds that bound them together, and hoping she would never come to regret her decision.

Alas, her focus was somewhere else now.

"Do you really believe that he is the chosen one?" she asked the man. Not that she didn't trust him — he has studied the prophecies long enough to know what they should mean — rather because she couldn't believe it. He was just a boy.

"With him having such an upbringing, no father and a midichlorian count of the charts...nothing ever happens without a meaning; nor did we meet him by simply being fortunate or by chance. Yet I don't presume to —"

"You do," she interjected. His intention, his words were perfectly clear for Leilani, even as he attempted to cover them. "You felt the vergence and you do think that he was conceived by midichlorians. Just as you are aware of the fact that you've met a Sith lord," she chides. "Word travels fast."

"You doubt it?" asked he, placing his hands on his hips.

"I don't, I would never doubt you; merely puzzled by what it would mean...It all seems to be a part of something bigger — and nothing that we can foresee."

He let his hands down, nodding gently as they locked their gaze onto each other again. "I sense it too. We have to be mindful of it."

Qui-Gon was keenly aware of the circumstances, understanding that whatever he had set in motion was part of a larger, grander scheme guided and set by the Force. Fates weren't supposed to be foretold, nor changed; they simply unfolded according to their purpose. And if there was ever a man who believed in fates, it was him — it was the will of the force, he would always say, just as Leilani repeated it now; no matter if it was referring to knowingly disobeying the Council or doing something that left them questioning his sanity. And despite the occasional perplexed glances directed his way, Qui-Gon rarely faced reprimand for this. His deep understanding of the living Force surpassed that of many, perhaps even Master Yoda himself and for this, just as he was odd, he was valuable too. Definitely not a traditional Jedi. Then again, no one in his lineage seemed to be traditional.

"As long as you are with Anakin, there shouldn't be a trouble," said Leilani. She wasn't sure if she was trying to reason, justify or provide advice, she just shared her thought plainly with him. "You do care for the boy, and he feels it."

"I've promised his mother that I would look after him," he admits.

"And yet you would've done it even without promising. All he ever wanted was a father figure, that is completely obvious, and taking that you act this way, you fill that role for him," she explained, while Qui-Gon shrugged. "I've spent almost my whole day with him...and his thoughts...betray him, more than the most."

The man didn't answer, he didn't know how to, merely nodded, lost in thoughts. Deep down, he knew that Leilani was right and perhaps, he wanted this too.

"I'll leave you to it...Just be careful, vor'kesh." She didn't wait for an answer, nor was she expecting one, other than a content 'mmh'. She turned on her heels, with a feral-feeling in her chest, leaving the man behind to contemplate his actions slowly. Her legs urge her to the end of the corridor, and while she pushes the button and waits for the elevator to arrive, she can faintly see Qui-Gon moving on the way, stepping after his Padawan with a frown that felt inhumane to him. She challenged him into thinking about his doings, for once; something that rarely happened — yet now it felt almost natural.

She stepped in, and minutes later stepped out of the jimp space, walking through the lower level corridors, looking for one if not any familiar face. But found none. Instead, she rounded the corner, her steps carrying her with purpose toward the tranquil refuge of the library—a haven she had yearned for since the dawn of the day. The quiet hum of knowledge beckoned to her, promising solace amidst the pages of ancient texts and whispered wisdom. Frequenting this place had become a habit, one that occasionally earned raised eyebrows from Madam Jocasta, yet in the end, it was a welcomed routine. The seasoned librarian imparted invaluable knowledge, not only about the library's vast archives but also about discerning truth from hearsay. Her guidance on selecting reading material proved invaluable, steering her toward enlightening texts and cautioning against mere rumours. The young woman's enthusiasm for learning was palpable; she revelled in exploring the intricacies of various planets, delving into diverse languages, and immersing herself in the rich tapestry of galactic cultures.

However, theory could only take her so far; while training and studying provided a solid foundation, they alone couldn't bridge the gap between knowledge and practical skill. At twenty-four, she possessed a wisdom that belied her years, enriched by her appreciation for art, literature, and a thirst for knowledge that knew no bounds. Yet, despite her intellectual prowess, she couldn't shake the feeling of inadequacy that lingered in the face of real-world challenges. Despite venturing on one or two missions into the wilderness, she still grappled with a sense of helplessness and directionlessness. One time, she'd faced a real challenge, she almost lost everything, and the consequences still lingered in the air; even with almost four years passing ever since. And even if — once again in theory — she had learned to control it, she didn't trust herself with it.

She darted behind one of the computer terminals, diving headfirst into lectures, setting aside her thoughts in favour of delving into research on various species. Hours passed in this manner, her focus unbroken, until exhaustion finally caught up with her, and she drifted into slumber, her head drooping onto the table once more. Around midnight, Madam Jocasta took notice, her observant eyes catching the sight, yet she only smiled and gently draped a spare cloak over the sleeping figure — as she was used to it.

* lysara - "sister" in ancient serennian language

** vor'kesh - "brother" in ancient serennian language