Two

Though Minerva had at first refused to leave the planet until his connection to the Force was fully restored, the Council had other ideas. 

“The lead we have threatens to go cold any day, Master McGonagall,” spoke a tall Jedi that James recognised as Master Xin. 

From what he remembered from the story, the Twi'lek was more devoted to upholding the Jedi Code than nearly anyone, eagerly following each of the rigorous rules. It went hand in hand that his distrust in Sirius – the child taken in later than usual – was born almost as quickly as he first laid his eyes on him.

There was much of that cold indifference and wariness in his face now as he discussed James’ fate. 

“If you waste too much time fussing over the boy,” Master Xin continued, his form flickering over the holo, “ it could cost us the little advantage we have on the Rim.” 

‘The boy’. That was as far Xin was willing to go to acknowledge his presence. Though they were talking about him, he hadn’t looked at him once. James was starting to detest him even more than in the novel, which he hadn’t thought possible.

Minerva’s lips thinned. “I am merely suggesting we take a short respite here on Tattoinee. Rushing my Padawan into another assignment could tangle his connection to the Force ever further. He needs more time.”

For a second, Xin’s lips curled in an unpleasant line before it was gone. “I warned you it was not a good idea to take on someone like him , Minerva. You must have known there would be… complications.”

James blinked rapidly, thrown off by this new information. ‘Someone like him’? What did that even mean?

Minerva’s face was unreadable. “I stand by my decision, Master.”

“Be as it may, you’ve already spent longer on Tattoinee than you should have. The Council granted you that time, but we cannot wait any further. I trust you haven’t spent the last seven years building our stand there only to throw all of it away over mere discomfort of your Padawan?”

“No, Master Xin,” Minerva finally said, her voice carefully level. 

James’ neck prickled with shame. As much as he didn’t like it, it was true that he was only slowing his Master down. Whenever Minerva asked him to ignite his saber, he felt like a child, waving around a weapon they didn’t understand.

“Good.” Xin nodded, his head-tails swinging slightly back and forth. “You are to head out for the Jakku system before the night falls. I will inform the rest of the Council.”

“Understood, Master.” Her robes rustled slightly as she bowed. She shot him a quick, sharp glance, and James quickly bowed his head as well, though it was the least thing he wanted to do. Maybe besides listening to this even further.

The holo flickered out.

Before James could open his mouth, Minerva was already moving towards the exit of their ship. “Come, we will meditate before we set out.”

Though he didn’t like it, James got the impression now wasn’t the time to ask questions. For once, he listened.

The training bond between him and his Master seemed fragile, but he could still sense her unrest, faint as it was. The last thing he wanted was for her to change her mind and leave him here on this dustball.

“Yes, Master.”

As he later watched as the sands of Tattoinee became smaller and smaller, he was almost glad Master Xin ordered them to leave already, though he had acted like such an asshole about it.

“You’re quiet,” Minerva told him as she shifted her hands over the controls of their ship.

James hummed. He couldn’t pull his gaze away from the sight before him, eyes roaming over the vast stretch of space around them, taking everything in. The red shape of Tattoinee, the bright stars scattered over the darkness, the ships passing nearby.  He almost didn’t dare to blink to not miss anything.

“I don’t care what Master Xin or anyone else says about you,” she said after a long comment, voice barely louder than the quiet hum of the ship around them. 

Surprised, he finally managed to pull his eyes away. Minerva was steadily looking ahead, obviously ignoring his searching look. 

“I chose you as my Padawan,” she continued after a moment, “and there’s nothing they can do about it.”

James swallowed heavily. It was clear her words were meant to be reassuring, a comfort for whatever shame she must have thought he felt during the call, but they only made him feel worse. The reason she chose him, believed in him so much even after he all but lost his earlier skills didn’t matter. It wasn’t him she chose after all.

He felt her tentative worry over the training bond they’ve shared, but she didn’t say anything else. 

James turned his gaze back to the space beyond the cockpit. They passed the rest of the way in silence.

Jakku turned out to be another desert planet. The sand kept getting everywhere and James found some in his boots even two days after they were done with their assignment and already leaving the system. When he went on a long tirade over his (newly-discovered) hatred of sand, Minerva hid a small smile, as if she had been waiting for it. Then she promptly made him meditate for the next four hours. 

“This is abuse of power, Master,” James told her.  

Minerva lifted a serene brow. “Did you want to make it five hours?” 

James hadn’t, but his rebuttal had earned him four and half. It was the first time but certainly not the last.

Meditation, fighting forms, reciting back political knowledge and history of entire planets became an everyday occurrence to him. Luckily, his knowledge about the novel did at least help with the last two. No matter where they moved across the Outer Rim, there was always another training to go through.

As the year progressed, the missions slowly spilled together into one large blur. 

Akiva had them traversing through rainforest so thick one could barely see a few steps ahead. The local merchant overlord – he insisted on the title Mayor, but James wasn’t fooled –  had asked the Jedi for help with finding his missing child.

The planet had the strange talent to make people miss even horrible desert climates, and by the time it rained for three cycles straight, James was ready to jump back up onto the ship and leave as soon as they found the children’s captors and not a moment later. Jedi robes weren’t made for this type of weather, and the water-soaked fabric weighted them down with each step.

Minerva still made him practice his opening saber forms in the pouring rain, but by now he wasn’t expecting anything different.

Another planet with an overly complicated name that not even the locals used had them  protecting an important diplomatic envoy on their way to the neighbouring system.

It was on this mission that James successfully reflected his first blaster shot, which was fortunate, because it was heading straight for the envoy.

He beamed at Minerva after as he was excitedly retelling the story, and his Master hadn’t smiled, but had this indulgent look in her eyes that was almost good as if she did.

Karolia was a bit of a mess and their first failed mission. By the time they got to the village to meet their contact, the whole settlement was up in flames. 

“They are one with the Force now, Padawan,” McGonagall told him, when she saw him staring at the burned bodies on the ground.

The small height of the local population made them look like children. James’ vision grew so hazy he could barely see them. 

He knew he shouldn’t cry. It wasn’t the Jedi way, but it took all he had to keep the tears from falling.

“We need to find who did it to them,” he said, voice thick.

Minerva squeezed his shoulder. James expected her to say something about the Code, about how anger leads only to hate and the Dark Side, but she didn’t. Instead, she nodded, her grip tightening. “We will.”

For another long moment, they stood over the deceased in silent vigil.

After that, James threw himself into training with renowned vigour. Each night, before falling asleep he went through the motions of different forms in his head, carefully slipping from Soresu into Ataru and then through the rest until he was back at the beginning. 

They traversed tundras and waded through swamps as Minerva tasked him with moving the hanging branches above them away only with his Force.

He got slapped in the face with one of the branches returning too soon more times than he could count, but by the time they were leaving the marches behind, it had significantly lessened in frequency. 

The smell of the swamp didn’t seem to leave his clothes for a week. It smelled like bantha dung, an expression that was often used in the book, but James only now came to fully understand what it meant. Now he would rather wipe the knowledge from memory. 

When he asked Minerva about giving him a clean pair of robes she only shrugged. “Consider it a lesson in patience, young Padawan.” 

James was beginning to think she had a twisted kind of humour. For a moment, he’d swear she looked smug.

Most of the planets didn’t follow the traditional season cycle he was used to back from his own world, so it came as a surprise when he opened his datapad and saw the date blinking at him in the upper right corner. He’d been in this universe for little over a year now. 

According to the data on the pad, Minerva’s original Padawan had their birthday around three weeks ago. James wasn’t sure how to convert his own birthday to the different time system, so he didn’t bother. It was roughly a year since he came here, so he was around  sixteen now; that was all that mattered. 

It wasn’t like birthdays were anything special for the Jedi. James was sure there was a grand lecture about it he should have at one point heard, but he was sure it could be summarised the same way it was done in the Proud Sith Way: it could lead to attachment. Most things Jedi were afraid boiled down to that. 

Truth be told, James didn’t really care. The only time he ever celebrated birthday was back with his parents, which seemed lightyears away. There was no one to celebrate it with since then, and doing it alone was just a bit too depressing even for him, so he grew out of the habit.

Now, he was too busy trying to stay alive and training to even think about something like being a year older. Funny, how that had worked out. 

“Where’re we headed next, Master?” James asked as Minerva walked into the room, the door swishing to open. He heard Minerva going into the conference room earlier, and that had to mean another call from the Council. If it was anyone else, his Master wouldn’t bother walking to the larger holo.

The droid next to him beeped and James turned his attention back to fixing his arm. 

They’ve picked the mech up a few missions back, when it started to follow them around on their investigation of a junkyard in the Refnu system. The owner had wanted to recycle him for parts, saying the astro droid was too damaged and wouldn’t function properly anyway. 

James had then frowned and his Master had sighed. By that point, she knew him well enough to know what would come.

They left the junkyard a droid heavier, and James had since spent countless nights trying to read up on how to fix mechs. He still wasn’t no expert, but R7 was still working, so it had to be good for something.

Of course, then the smugglers on Merokia’s port just had to start shooting and hit his arm. R7 beeped again as the last wires were set in place, the sound light and happy.

“There you go, buddy.” James petted him slightly on the top of his head just as Minerva slid into the seat across him. The droid happily rolled away.

“So, Master?” James looked up, setting his tools back on the table. “What is it next? I hope not another swamp.” 

He smirked, then faltered slightly. Minerva’s expression looked strangely stiff.

“No,” she said calmly, the look disappearing as if it was never there. “We’re to head back to Coruscant. The Council wants to see us.”

Finally setting foot on Coruscant felt all kind of unreal. Though he had seen many planets since first arriving here, most of the Outer Rim consisted of remote places, far-away villages and small though busy cities; the center of Republic was something different entirely. 

James had never thought that he would think of the markets on Tattoinee as quiet, but they seemed that way, in comparison with the constant noise and hum of the large sprawling city.

As far as the eye could see, high skyscrapers of a myriad of different shapes reached out to the sky, bright light emitting through their glass panels; in the dark of the night, it made the city look like it was glowing. 

Though it was late, James could still see a staggering amount of speeders flying between the tall buildings, the city bustling with life. In the distance, he spotted a large building reminiscent of a closed amphitheatre, with numerous flags surrounding it. He’d read about it enough in the story to immediately recognise it – the Senate. 

“James,” Minerva’s sharp voice carried over to him. He hadn’t even realised she had already started walking, leaving him on the docking platform overlooking the city.  

He pulled his gaze away from the horizon to innocently blink at her. As always, Minerva didn’t look impressed. 

She gave him a warning look. “Follow me closely. And don’t get distracted again.”

“Yes, Master.” James hurried to catch up with her, throwing a quick look over his shoulder. “Wait here, R7!”

In answer, R7 gave a pitiful beep but stayed put near the ship. 

They took a speeder to the Council, and James tried his hardest to not outright gape outside the window. He knew from Proud Sith Way, that the city was sprawled over the whole planet, but it was another thing entirely to really see it. The buildings seem to go on for ages, fading off into the horizon like a large glowing sea. 

The four Council Towers rose high over their surroundings. The elevator ride to the highest floor felt both impossibly shorter and longer than James expected.

Next to him, Minerva shifted slightly, crossing her arms. There was a faint trace of worry in her Force signature before her shield moved back into place. 

“Don’t let Master Xin goad you into acting emotionally,” she instructed him as another ten floors passed by.

James frowned. Over the last year, Master Xin had only grown more irritating. It didn’t help that he still kept referring to him as ‘the boy’, refusing to acknowledge both James’ name and his position as Minerva’s Padawan. 

Though piercing together pieces of different conversations, James had figured out Minerva had found him on the Outer Rim. Xin’s offhand comment one time also made it clear he started out later than was “advisable.” Padawans were normally taken on from the initiates at the Temple, but taking a Padawan straight into teaching could happen, though it was rare.

Whatever the person this body belonged to before – the original goods, if you will – must have done something very impressive for Minerva to act so unusually. And, if there was one thing he knew about his Master, it was that she wasn’t easily impressed. 

“Maybe if he were civil, that wouldn’t be a problem,” he said and Minerva sighed. She had taken to doing that quite a lot. 

“Do try not to enrage the whole Council before even properly meeting them for the first time, James.” 

Nodding, James suppressed a smirk. “I’ll do my best, Master.”

That earned him another long long. 

The air in the High Council chamber was strangely heavy. Or maybe it was the gazes of the Masters sitting on the small seats around the room. 

James followed his Master to the center of the circular room, then came to stand next to her. The large glass panels all around the chamber showed a clear view over the giant city beneath, but the view was overpowered with the light in the room, making it harder to see it into the night.

Even at this late hour, the Council was almost complete. Out of the twelve Jedi, eight were present, none of them showing even small signs of fatigue. 

Besides the Grand Master, there was only one other human Jedi. He vaguely recognised him from his late-night crammings about the Order. Master Nisaden stared at him impassively from his seat, stroking his black, shortly-trimmed beard. James was nearly certain he was never even mentioned in the book.

Next to him sat Master Noos, a Kel Dor. James got the expression he was looking past him at his Master, even though the black mask over his eyes and lower half of face made it difficult to know what he was truly looking at. 

The other end of the semicircle started with two empty seats, the third one filled by Master Flitwick, his small green form easily visible against the dark red of the cushions. 

James wasn’t fully sure what race he was. As far as he knew, Flitwick was the only representative of his race in the galaxy.

Howling on the Cheese never introduced anyone else who looked the same, or even mentioned the name of this strange race. It was incredibly frustrating. Another of Cheese’s lazy worldbuilding techniques: write something random and hope no one notices it doesn’t make sense.

Flitwick’s large, pointed ears moved slightly, and James realised he was staring. He quickly pulled his gaze to the seat directly before them just as the Grand Master of the Order spoke. 

From the other side of the room, he could feel the iron, disapproving look of Master Xin. By this point, he was so used to it over the holo, that the gaze barely registered.

“Minerva, it’s good to see you back.” Dumbledore smiled, his long white beard shifting slightly as he moved slightly in his seat to see them better.

His hair was even longer than his beard and had the same silvery colour that betrayed his age, but his eyes were knowing and alert.

“And it is a pleasure to finally welcome your Padawan officially to our Order.”

James gave a small bow of his head. 

“I hope you will settle well into the life at the Temple, though it will no doubt be different from your experiences in the Outer Rim. I believe Minerva mentioned you’ve never even been to Coruscant before?”

James gathered as much over the last year, but it still felt good to have it confirmed out loud. Misspeaking before the Council would only lead to trouble. “Yes, Master. I’m eager to finally see the Temple.” 

Dumbledore smiled. “Your enthusiasm is a compliment to your Master. I hope your recovery has been going well?”

James glanced at his Master, but her face stayed frustratingly impassive. Dumbledore lifted a brow, clearly expecting an answer.

“I wasn’t recently hit with any blaster shots, Master, so I think I’m getting better.”

One of the Council members coughed, hiding a startled chuckle. 

Dumbledore smiled slightly, inclining his head. “That’s good news indeed. Now before you and your Master go to get some well-deserved rest, I’m afraid I must ask Master McGonagall to give a report on the overall situation in the Rim. How are we standing with the Silkmaster guild?”

Minerva grasped her hands and set out to recount everything as instructed. James spared a sad look towards one of the chairs. He knew Jedis speaking before the Council couldn’t sit down, but the journey had been long and Minerva’s report threatened to be even longer. 

To make time pass faster, he tried to imagine the astonished faces of everyone around if he just went and plopped down on one of the empty seats.

Finally, the report seemed to be over. The Council quickly agreed to let them take rest from assignments for a while and dismissed them, though not before ordering James to join the rest of the Padawans tomorrow.

Master Xin caught them before leaving the room, the rest of the Council dispersing. James didn’t bother to hide his distrustful look, fully knowing he was receiving one in return.

“Master McGonagall, I heard there’s a Padawan who’s a helpless case in Master Slughorn’s class, slowing the lessons down,” he said lightly as he rightened his robes. “I’m sure your own Padawan  would enjoy the lightened pace, considering the circumstances.”

It figured that the first time Master Xin would acknowledge him as Padawan would be in some back-handed advice. 

“I assure you my Padawan is more than able to keep pace, Master Xin,” came Minerva’s answer, sharper than James expected. 

He felt warmed by the steady defense, but as they boarded into yet another elevator, his mind whirled.

A Padawan who was a helpless case… could he have meant Sirius? Of course it was laughable to call him that, but during the Padawan arc, he did have trouble connecting to the Force during meditations. Or rather, connecting to the Force in the way the Jedi advised him. His Master made him attend many different classes to get better at it. It never truly worked.

“Master,” James said carefully, when they were alone, wetting his lips. Across the now-opened bond, he could still feel Minerva’s frustration with her former Master. “If it’s alright, I would like to actually go to Master Slughorn’s class tomorrow.”

Minerva’s mouth fell open in an unusual show of emotion.“You cannot be serious, Padawan. Master Xin was only trying to provoke you.”

Or rather, provoke you, James thought. “I could use some meditation after the journey we had,” he said instead. “Besides, can you imagine how confused will Xin be when he finds out I actually went?”

“Master Xin,” Minerva corrected absently, but did seem more open to the idea.

“Alright. I suppose there’s no harm in that, you’ve never been to a Temple lesson after all. But only this once. I’ll send you the roaster in the morning and you can pick who to go to for saber training as well. Knight Sinax is particularly skilled, but the choice is yours.” 

She absently scratched on one of her horns, thinking before turning his head to him, face stern. “Either way, I expect you to be back at my quarters for dinner. No dallying, understood?”

“Yes, Master. Thank you.” 

She waved the gratitude away as if it were a fly. “Now let us hurry. The lessons at the Temple start at dawn.”

Of course they did. James resigned himself to another day of running only on a few hours of sleep. He was almost beginning to miss all the swamps.

The morning lesson was held in one of the large chambers of the Temple, with a ceiling so high that looking up hurt the back of James’ neck. Long, thin columns made of what looked like marble separated the vast space, most of them centered around a small shallow fountain in the middle. 

James had instantly started to look for Sirius when he first walked in, but there were more people than he expected. He barely had time to sweep his eyes over the room when Master Slughorn was already walking through the arch leading to the room. Knowing what was coming if he tardied in getting to his seat, James quickly found the closest empty spot. 

He kneeled on his heels into the traditional Jedi meditation pose, by now almost as familiar as breathing. True to his character in the book, Slughorn then publicly lectured the two girls that entered shortly after. 

James used the time to examine the rest of the people in the room, but no one seemed familiar.

Another thing became clear though. Master Xin was truly biting with his advice, and now he understood his Master’s discontent even more. This was a class made up mostly of initiates, not Padawans. Though the ages varied, it was clear this was meant to be a class for beginners. 

With few of the initiates under ten and some looking well over thirteen, there seemed to be only a few older apprentices with a Padawan braid. 

Logically, James knew this was the place for him. It was true he never went through the Temple teachings like the others, and even more true that he was training for even shorter than the Council believed. Still, he couldn’t help the spark of anger it set off in his chest.

You asked for this, he reminded himself. You wanted to see if he was here.

“Pull your attention towards your most inner selves,” Master Slughorn intoned heavily, and James forced himself back to the present. 

He regretted it soon after, because it quickly became clear Slughorn was as terrible at leading lessons as the book depicted. When he finally trailed off to let them connect with the Force, it was a relief.

James closed his eyes and steadied his breath. By now, the process was comfortingly familiar. 

Slowly, he loosened his hold on his thoughts and opened his mind to the soothing presence that was the Force. Little by little, his awareness moved away from his body, and he found his tense muscles relaxing.

Then, a girl snickered. 

The mocking sound was absurdly loud in the fallen silence. Even more unbelievably, the sound doubled in volume as another one joined in. James' brow furrowed. What was going on? He had half a mind to open his eyes, but that would be wasting all the progress–

“Ah, having trouble again, young Sirius?” asked Slughorn knowingly, and James’s head whipped to the side, eyes wide open. 

Behind a column. Sirius was sitting the whole time behind a bloody column just a few rows ahead. With frustration, he watched as Slughorn walked closer, but even as he cracked his neck, he couldn’t see. Whose brilliant idea was to fill the whole room with columns anyway? 

He shuffled on his knees a little, not as gracefully as he would have liked. A teenage brown-haired girl next to him gave him a side eye, but he ignored it. What mattered was that it worked. 

There was nothing to be done with sitting too far back, but now he could at least see something. At the angle, he was just able to make out the shape of Sirius’ form. He was in the same kneeling position as everyone else, black hair tucked into a messy bun at the back of his neck. The other initiates around him were giving him a side-eye, few of them hiding mocking half-smiles.

“Well?” Slughorn pressed. “What is it?”

“I can’t sense it,” Sirius gritted out through his teeth. “It’s not working.”

Slughorn gave a long sigh. “Patience, young Sirius. I keep telling you, harshness won’t solve anything. If it didn’t help you the last ten times, I’m sure it won’t help you know.”

Several children around shifted to hide their jeers. No one was focused on meditation anymore.

James saw Sirius’ hands ball into fists in his lap. Nonsensically, he wanted to cross the room and reach out.

“It always works. You just have to center yourself more and keep on trying.” He walked around him, squinting his eyes. “And stop fidgeting.”

Sirius looked away.  “...Yes, Master.”

Slughorn walked by, Sirius’ problems clearly slipping into the back of his mind. “Where was I before… yes. Still yourselves, calm down your breaths–” 

James stopped listening completely. He forced himself to close his eyes again, and took a deep breath, but his mind was too busy to listen. 

Though he had mediated for much longer before, this time, it seemed almost never-ending.