To Weakest Hope

by Brensgrrl
(2/3/2000)

(A Sequel to Nothing Begins and an adjunct to Night Garden)

Rating:  R;  AU, Angst, Romance

Summary:  Quinn contemplates a rash action.

Keyword:  Romance; Pre-TPM; AU

Warning:  Angst, UST

Archive:  Anywhere with my emailed permission.
     (If you got this email, then you have permission.)


Feedback:   marajade@looknlearn.com    Very welcome, because
this piece has not been betaed, but flames will be used to
light the " circle of death" that the motorcycle rider jumps
thru at the circus.

Disclaimer:  Everything (except Quinn Harring, Terent Cisco,
the *nameless lady* and the thin plot) belongs to George
Lucas.  I am grateful to be able to play in his wonderful
world of make believe.   Meesa makin' no money offa dis.
I'm broke and only writing this for fun, so please don't sue
me.

The title for this story is derived from Bunn's
Bohemian Girl:
"The heart bowed down by weight of woe
to weakest hope will cling."


**************

"I can't take this assignment."  Quinn Harring pushed the
sheaf of flimsies back across the desk.

"Oh yes you will!"  Terent Cisco, Chief of Operations for
Danor Planet
Corporation glared, his face reddening.

"No I won't, " Quinn struggled to keep her voice even, "all
I have to do is
leave."

"And if you do, we'll exercise the liquidated damages clause
of the contract that you signed two years ago.    We'll sue,
Harring.  And we'll
win.  You'll have to pay back all of the money we've
reimbursed for all
previous trips plus treble damages for this one.  You signed
up for this--
you make one trip, you've gotta make them all."  Cisco
inclined in his seat, smiling maliciously.   " You wanna
play hardball--we'll play.  We'll put you out of business."
A dismissive flick of his fingers sent the manifest sliding
across the desk once again.

Quinn felt water rising in her eyes as she stared at the
documents.
_I won't cry.  I won't_..

"Look, Terent.  I'm not doing this to cause trouble.  I just
can't take this
trip, that's all.  Please try and understand."  She leaned
forward, both
hands resting on the front of the desk.  "I'll get you
someone else.  You
won't even have to pay me."  Her voice softened.  " I just
can't go."

"Why not?"

"It's personal."

"You in trouble with the law?  Got a jealous ex-lover, or
something. . ."

Quinn gulped and turned aside.  "It's none of your damn
business, okay."  A croak.

"It is my business if you're telling me that you are going
to stiff us
on this trip.  We have deadlines.  The Proconsul must be on
Kuat before
the mass driver operations begin here.  Money is at stake.
Big money.
And I'll be damned if I let operations collapse because some
two-credit
petty hustler of a spacer has an emotional hang-up."   He
rose from his
seat and walked around the desk to tower over the Trader.

"Or are you having _other_ problems of some kind?   I did
tell you
that you'd cross the wrong person someday. . ."

"I told you that it's personal, Cisco."

Terent Cisco gave a feral grin, his index finger stabbing at
Quinn's nose in emphasis.    " You are going to honor that
contract you signed.  I don't give a damn if every bounty
hunter from here to the Rim is after your pretty little ass.
Just take it, and my passengers, over to Kuat before you
turn into Hard Merchandise, or I'll get you first."

She turned to the door, opening it.  "Not if I'm dead, you
won't," she
hissed as she left.

*****

Quinn went through all the motions of the pre-flight
preparations in a numb haze, her fingers flipping switches,
her hands adjusting  variances with
the rote precision of a droid, her mind racing away from the
routine
tasks at light speed.

Maybe, just maybe there was a way to get through this in one
piece.
Kuat was a big planet, after all.  Maybe there was a chance
that things wouldn't be as bad as she thought--that she
wouldn't see him again.  That the old wounds wouldn't
reopen.

Oh yes.  She would probably see Kenn again.  He had, after
all, been acquired
by one of the leading families, and those families would
appear to meet the
new Proconsul of Danor.

_And I'll just stay in here and hide. . ._

But she knew that she wouldn't.  The need to see him again
was
more compelling than any addiction.   But the rejection when
he
turned away --or worse yet, ignored her. . .

Quinn felt her stomach clench and her hands began to
tremble, the hydrospanner she held refusing to lock onto the
bolt.   Her eyes filled and hot tears began their course
down her cheeks, marking her helpless rage.

"Shit!"  she threw the tool across the compartment, where it
hit the
bulkhead above the companionway door with a satisfying bang,
barely missing Obi-Wan Kenobi's head, just before it crashed
to the floor.

She started briefly in shock.

Kenobi.  Kenobi was standing in the doorway, hooded in his
Jedi Robe,
arms tucked into his sleeves, his greenish eyes flashing
astonishment,
then irritation.

"What in Hares' hell are you doing here?"  Quinn snapped,
venting her
ire at his interruption of her tantrum.

He knelt, a fluid motion, and lifted the hydrospanner.
"I think you owe me an explanation first, seeing that you
nearly took
my head off with this thing. . ." he gestured with the
broken tool in his
outstretched hand, his lips stretched into a tight line.

His less than serene response brought some slight amusement
and
Quinn's lips lifted in a little smile as she dragged the
back of a dirty sleeve across her face.

"I don't see anything funny about this--"

"Sorry, Angel Eyes.  I wasn't aiming at you.  Just trying to
get ready
to ferry some passengers over to Kuat. "

"How so?   By smashing the ship to pieces?"

"I said that I'm sorry. . ."  She crossed to him, took the
battered implement from his hand.    "Gods, you are
beautiful when you're mad.  So, what brings you to Danor. .
.I assume that Master Jinn is with you--"

"We are on mission;   we've been assigned the  *Woman's
Place*  as
transport.  That is, if the ship is still safe. "

Quinn gave a bitter laugh.   _ Damn you right to hell,
Cisco._

" Don't be a smartass, Obi-Wan.  Of course the ship is
safe."  Quinn
grumbled.   " I suppose that the Corporate Proconsul is with
you.  If you'll help me out by seeing him to the first class
quarters while I finish up here, I'll be forever grateful.
You do remember how to get there, don't you?"

A strange feminine voice trilled from the doorway, "Obi-Wan?
I heard
a peculiar noise. . . "

A woman stepped into the engine room and Obi-Wan extended
his hand to
her, smiling.  She took his hand, and he gathered her close,
wrapping both arms about her waist affectionately as she
came to stand in front of him.   The woman seemed much older
than Obi-Wan, short-statured, the
tailored blue traveling dress she wore doing little to
disguise a thickening
waistline.   Her intricately coiffed hair was accented by
gray at the temples
that gave her a distinguished appearance.   She was elegant,
feminine, and beautiful.  She smiled warmly at Quinn, little
creases crinkling at the corners of her eyes.

"Allow me to introduce you to the Proconsul of Danor."  At
the sound of Obi-Wan's voice the woman turned slightly in
his arms,
lifting her face toward his.   Quinn could almost see the
sparks fly between
them.

Watching them together made Quinn wince with the memory of
the one time
she shared Obi-Wan's embrace, and further hastened the
coldness that
radiated from her center.

"I am sorry about the noise--just doing the pre-flight," a
stammer.

"I do remember how to get to the passenger accommodation and
I'll be back to assist after she's settled in.  It seems
that you need the help."
Obi-Wan said dryly.

Quinn stared for a moment as Obi-Wan and the Proconsul
departed.

He had most definitely gotten over it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day and night were alike in space.  That problem was
resolved by the
diurnal controls built into the life support systems of most
interstellar
spacecraft.   The monotony of realspace was also at least
broken by the variation of the constellations, the glow of
distant nebulae, the bustling passage of the odd comet, the
occasional thump of meteorites against the ship's shielding.
Science, however, had yet to create anything that could
deal with the charms of hyperspace.

In hyperspace, the only things to see were the mind-numbing
*starlines*, elongated and indistinct images of realspace
objects that seemed as if they were painted on the
viewscreens by some crazed intergalactic artist.
And then there was the distressing tendency of certain
protein-based foods to become unpalatable when exposed to
the space-time distortion.

But the nastiest thing about hyperspace was the silence--a
silence that
cloaked everything like a shroud.  Only this silence wasn't
dead.  It was
very much alive--deafening, roaring as it penetrated
everything, suffocating even thought.

For once, though, Quinn didn't feel the need to turn on any
of the loud music
that she used as an antidote for the devouring hush.   No.
She would yield to its embrace.   Tonight, this silence
would be the lover that life had denied her.

_As quiet as a tomb,_   she thought as she checked the
navicomp, made a last entry in the log and swiveled the
pilot's chair away from the console.
The  *Woman's Place*   would see her own way clear to Kuat
without any further assistance from her.    Good thing.

Dimming the bridge lighting, she withdrew and made her way
toward her own quarters.     Only to discover that the
silence had surrendered to the sounds of muted talk
emanating from the first class  stateroom.    She paused in
the corridor, listening as her eyes turned in the direction
of the wall-mounted timepiece.

_Chrono 0200._

The low hum of a male voice, followed by the chime of high
soft feminine laughter.

This wasn't mere late night chatter among the passengers.
This was the sound of lovers' pillow talk.

Briefly, Quinn searched her soul, trying to dredge up some
feeling--pain,
despair, jealousy--any emotion at all about Obi-Wan's being
with this woman.
And found nothing.

No surprise.  The creeping numbness that had been advancing
in slow degrees ever since the meeting with Terent Cisco had
possessed her
completely, quelling both anger and grief.   She had at last
transcended emotion, arriving in a place of perfect
passionless detachment.

_How strange to feel so calm._

As she stood musing, the whispers dissolved into muffled
moans.

Quinn turned aside, and continued down the corridor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Qui-Gon Jinn had tried two Meditations, first the Evening
Star and
then the Opening of the Gates, but neither one granted him
the stillness that he needed to find his center of
relaxation.  The Force had been roiling tonight, unbalanced
and impure with darkness.   Mentally, he stretched out,
linking with its Living polarity in hopes of tracking down
the source
of the disturbance.

Only to find himself standing in front of the door to the
Captain's quarters.  He could sense her presence within,
that she was alone and was
physically unharmed.   And yet. . .  He reached for an
impression of her awareness and recoiled when his mind
encountered an unshielded insensate darkness.
Force-compulsion made him open the door and enter.

Harring lay on her back on the narrow bunk, her arms folded
back beneath her head.  She was stripped down to her
singlets, unblinking eyes fixed on the ceiling, and a hold
out blaster lying on her chest with its barrel nestled in
the valley of her breasts.  She spoke without moving.

"Don't they teach you people to knock."?

"Of course they do."  Uninvited, Qui-Gon moved to sit next
to Quinn on the narrow bunk, and lifted the weapon off her
body.

"I'll thank you to put that back where you found it and
remove yourself
from my bed and my room."  Tonelessly.

"And I think that I'll keep it and stay."

Her eyes shifted to meet his.  "Master Jinn, this is none of
your business.
Don't worry.  You will get to Kuat to carry out your
mission.   I've already
arranged passage back to Coruscant too. "

"Is this about Obi-Wan? "

Quinn gave an unnatural chuckle.  "Hell, no."

"Whatever it is, I am certain that it's not worth resorting
to this,"  he held
the blaster up  "Let's talk about it. . ."

She sat bolt upright on the bunk, heedless of her nearly
nude state, and snatched the gun from his hand.  "Look I
appreciate that you are doing your
Jedi Master thing, keeping the Code and all that, but what I
do with my life
is my own damn affair.   I've told you that this won't make
any difference
to the job you are doing. . ."

"But," he took the blaster away from her again, after
loosening her grip with a little application of the Force,
"it will make a difference to *me*."

Quinn's body trembled in anger at the Jedi Master's
continued interference.   Tears flooded her face as her
control broke.  "What a
crock of shit!  Just get the hell out!"

She threw herself down, burying her face in the flattened
pillow as the sobs came.

Qui-Gon Jinn dropped the blaster onto the floor and moved
further onto the
bunk, gently lifting Quinn's head into his lap as he eased
his back against the
wall.   His fingertips stroked the back of her neck
soothingly.   "We _will_ talk about this," he crooned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She crouched hard by the ruin of some half buried machine on
a desolate strand, beneath a sky tumultuous with violet
clouds, facing a churning, black sea.   Wind was pouring
over the shore in icy gusts,
strong enough to penetrate her deficient sheltering place.

_Better cover.  I have to find a better place to hide. _

She stood, surveying.   The entire span of the beach was
littered with
wrecked machines, lifeless droids and the skeletal hulks of
derelict spacecraft; the trash heap of civilization.

There was something dreadful about the mounds of crumbling
instrumentality that stretched toward the horizon on either
side of
her, something that sent a thrill of terror through her.

As if in confirmation, the wind knifed viciously through the
thin
dress she wore, fouling the air with sand.

Her mouth filled with grit, and she spat uselessly, even
more sand entering every time her lips parted.   Lightening
flashed in the distance,
accompanied by the echo of distant thunder.  Suddenly, rain
was
sheeting down in an angry barrage.  There was a storm out
somewhere over
the ocean and it was blowing into a full gale at a rapid
pace.   The
surf was rising, beginning to swallow some of the junk,
dragging it
out to sea.  She had to find some shelter from the storm
before she drowned, froze or was sandblasted to death.
She began to run toward
the landside dunes.

Only to see someone coming.    Despite the storm, the person
was in no
apparent hurry, moving in an easy purposeful motion through
the
obstacle course of debris.  Shielding her eyes with one
hand, she squinted, struggling to see who it was.

As the silhouette grew and became more distinct against the
horizon, she
could determine that it was a man, cloakless, dressed
entirely in black.

Quinn slouched against the windward side of a sandbank and
watched the approaching stranger as the rain pelted down,
thoroughly plastering the thin material of her clothes and
the sand she reclined upon to her body.

Then, the dawn of recognition . . .

"Oh damn, I'm dreaming . . ." she groaned.

"Not quite."  he responded with a calm smile as he finally
squatted down next
to her.

"All right!  What the hell sort of Jedi game is this?  None
of this is
real is it?"  Quinn gave a wild sweeping gesture with one
hand.  " First you
invade my room and then you interfere with my mind!"
She screamed at him, folding her body in on itself in a
feeble attempt to gain warmth against the cold wet that
continued to fall.

"It's real enough," Qui-Gon responded softly.

"Then why the hell aren't you soaked through to the skin and
freezing
like I am?"

"It's not my storm." he shrugged.

"Shit!  I should have known that you'd give some dumb-ass
answer like that!"

"Stand up Quinn, and let me help you make this stop."
Command voice.

"I will not be ordered around inside my own dream!"

He rose to his full height and folded his arms.  "Have it
your own
way, then."   He turned to walk away.

He had only gone a few paces when Quinn rose from her
crouch.

"Hey--"

Immediately he turned around and walked back to stand in
front of
her.   She looked up into his questioning yet serene gaze.

"What did you mean, *make this stop*?  And what's with all
this
junk?"   Her teeth were chattering.

"This isn't a dream," he said softly as he gathered her into
his arms without overture,  "it is a psychic manifestation
of whatever it is that is bothering you.   To all outward
appearances, you seem to be calm, but I can tell that you
are extremely distressed.    From the looks of things, you
have
been brooding over every single minute aspect of your
situation for
months--possibly years.   And blaming yourself for
everything that has ever happened to you.   That's the
meaning of the derelicts.   On the surface your emotions are
flat--but subconsciously you are in turmoil.  Your anxiety
is flooding out into the Force, corrupting it."  Jinn
gestured toward the
refuse being consumed by the rising tide.   "As a
Force-sensitive  I can tell you are seriously wounded. "

"I don't understand--then why isn't this bothering Obi-Wan:
why isn't he
here with you?  "  Quinn tipped her face up toward his.  And
felt
him sigh when their eyes met.

"Because my Padawan is not as adroit in his awareness of the
Living Force as I am, especially with his current
*distraction*.  His focus is elsewhere and he is shielding
quite heavily right now." A little smile.    "And you seem
to be strong in the Living Force, almost as sensitive as
some Jedi.   If you had been identified years ago, chances
are you would be Jedi. "

"Me.  Jedi.  Now, that is a laugh. . ."  she gave a
mirthless chuckle.

"Part of your problem is that you discount yourself too
readily.  You did
that during your military career and you are doing that now.
"  He folded her closer to his body.

Quinn felt Qui-Gon's warmth seep into her and she
reflexively relaxed against him, resting her head on his
chest, focusing on the steady, unhurried thump of his
heartbeat.

"Somehow," he went on, his hands now making comforting
little circles
at the small of her back, the timbre of his voice
transmuting into
a soothing croon,  "you have taught yourself to release some
of your
torment into the Force, but because you are untrained, you
do not know
how to calm your inner self and disperse the malignant
emotions."

"The rain is letting up a bit."

"Yes.  I am centering you."  He tipped his chin down to
brush
against the top of her head and she was suddenly aware of
being in
his arms, the gentle touches of his hands,  the press of his
body against
hers.

Embarrassed, she let her arms drop to her sides, breaking
the intimate contact.  Quinn backed away from him and turned
to face the sea.   He came to stand behind her, and extended
his arm, pointing toward the towering black clouds in the
distance.

"We can't run the risk of the storm coming aground."

"So what."  Quinn folded her arms, missing his warmth.  " I
should certainly be able to stop it from getting here on my
own.  You said that it's *my* storm.  And even if I don't,
what difference does it make?  Nothing
will change."

"You don't understand.  This place represents your center,
your self;
the place inside where sanity resides.   The Force cannot
simply absorb
such a massive discharge of negative energy at once.  It
must be
dispelled gradually.    If that storm comes ashore, your
mind will be destroyed."

She gave a scornful laugh. "As if I care.   Crazy.  Dead.
What difference
does it make to me?   On the other hand, I'd rather be
dead--I'd be spared the humiliation, you see."

"Perhaps not.  Perhaps you will not retain enough intellect
to know how to put an end to yourself, and you will spend
the rest of your days in an asylum. "

Quinn started to walk away as tears tracked her face once
again.

Qui-Gon caught her in the circle of his arms once more.
Gently but insistently, his mind dipped beneath her tattered
shields, sweeping the surface of her consciousness,
gathering traces of information.

"So now you know.  Please let me go."  Quinn demanded, a
staggered whisper.

"If we are touching, it will be easier for me to help you."

"Let me go."  A plea.

The Jedi Master released her, and she stepped away from him.

And as if someone had flipped a switch, the cold
re-enveloped her and the pelting rain began anew.   She
shivered and forced herself to walk
further away from him, toward the whipping breakers, closer
to the
uneasy sea.   _I will manage.  I can do this by myself.  I
can_.

Quinn kept on telling herself to concentrate on calming the
waters and
the boiling storm clouds.   Mockingly, the bitter cold
buffeted her.   In moments her teeth were chattering again.
Her head
ached with her battle against the elements.   She had never
been
so cold. . .

Qui-Gon stepped toward her with outstretched arms.  "Please
let me help you.  please. "

His hand, shockingly warm, suddenly drew her back against
his chest,
into his embrace.

"By the Force, Quinn!"  his voice, though gentle, was
urgent.   "Don't turn me away because of your feelings for
this lost lover.
No one is worth this suffering. "   He lowered her down on
the chilly sand, drawing her into his lap.  "You can't bully
your mind into serenity--that
will only make matters worse."

She finally gave in to weeping, burying her face in the
front of his
tunics.

"Listen to me," he said softly,  "the fundamental nature of
living is to
go on.  We all win at times and we all lose at times. "

"What could you possibly know about losing?"  Quinn groaned.

He tipped her chin up so that their eyes met.   "We stop to
count
our losses, but we go on.  It is the will of the Force."

For a frozen moment in time Quinn was caught in the focus of
his
tender gaze.    Once again, the rain reverted into a light
drizzle.

"You need to learn to let go of expectations and live in the
present.
Then you will be able to welcome and learn from whatever
happens--
accept the good and let go of the bad.   You keep on
torturing yourself
with thoughts of what you could have done to stop him from
selling
himself into concubinage.   The reality is that there is
nothing you
could have done.  You cannot live in the past.  But you can
*be* in the
present.  Be with me now . . ."   The Jedi Master whispered
softly, his breath a caress against her face.

Within a span of several minutes, she warmed and the
shivering stopped.

"And now I want to show you something. . ."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A breath.  Another.   Perception of increasing light.
Daytime,
by the ship's clock.   Quinn's eyes fluttered open to see
the cabin
filling with the gradual illumination that the life support
system called 'dawn cycle '.

Even so, she didn't want to get up.   She shifted a little,
careful of the
not-unpleasant weight of his arm about her waist, and turned
to steal
a glance at his face.   Still asleep.    Despite herself,
Quinn smiled.

This place of nearness to him was so very comfortable, so as
it should be.
Briefly she reclined once more at his side, fixing her eyes
on the
ceiling.   _I could lie here all day . . ._    It had been
years since she felt this much at ease with anyone.

She sighed.   *Too* at ease . . .she felt the vague
stirrings of longing, a
wish. . .an impossible dream.   But this dream was not for
her--never for
her. . .

Determinedly, she wriggled out from under  Qui-Gon's arm and
swung her bare feet to the floor.   Her movement caused him
to awake with an unselfconscious catlike stretch.

"Good morning.   I am sorry--it appears that I drifted off.
"   His voice was
soft.

"No problem, Jedi Jinn.   I'm leaving now anyway."
Quinn crossed the room to retrieve her flightsuit from the
back of a chair.
"I guess I should thank you--I mean, for last night.  I am
feeling better
now. "  She sighed as she turned to close the front snaps of
the garment.

There was a slight rustling sound behind her, as he rose
from the bunk.   She pivoted as she felt his hand on her
shoulder, their eyes meeting.

"It was a pleasure to assist you.   I think we should have
at least one more
session, so you get the technique right.  And please, call
me Qui-Gon."

Quinn ducked her head a little, as she felt a flood of
consolation--and something else?-- spilling over her.   No.
Absolutely not.    She paused, her hand on the latch.

"Perhaps.  I'll think about it, all right?   Gotta check the
bridge."


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~end~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~