His eyes were like icicles. That was the first thing that hit Qui-Gon, and he felt his whole body tremor, as though he’d been thrown out into a blizzard wearing nothing more than his shirt.

“Master Jinn,” Syfo-Dias nodded as he stood there, over the threshold to his domain, “How nice to see you again.”

Qui-Gon swallowed his pride and allowed himself a long, hard glare at the Jedi Master, his own blue eyes endeavouring to look past the face and into the very soul of Master Vance Syfo-Dias. His fingers tightened around the strap of his rucksack and went white with strain as he did so. He was sure Dias noticed this, but the Jedi Master didn’t let on. He graced the youth with a slight smile and, stepping aside, allowed him access to his chambers.

Qui-Gon hesitated, two paths seeming to open up before him as the doorway yawned. He was determined not to allow Syfo-Dias the pleasure of seeing him turn and run, so, lifting a foot (one that suddenly felt as heavy as a block of lead) he crossed the precipice and stood squarely in Dias’ territory.

The door hissed shut behind him.

“Make yourself at home, Master Jinn,” the Jedi Master said, brushing past him and disappearing into the kitchen.

But this wasn’t home, Jinn sighed inwardly as, looking around himself with bewilderment, he slumped down onto a stool, his rucksack slinking down by his side like a deflated balloon. His eyes wandered forlornly around the walls of this strange chamber - it looked so clinical, so clean and tidy. To be frank, it looked utterly unlived in. There was no warmth, no life to it. It looked like a shell that had never been inhabited, something waiting to be invigorated with the haphazard existence of some being or another. The walls were a pallid cream colour, reminding Qui of sour milk, and the place smelt sterile. Jinn shivered and drew his arms about himself, an involuntary shudder coursing through his veins.

Suddenly, making him gasp in shock, Syfo-Dias was back before him, sitting on the opposite stool. As he took a seat, Jinn could see that the Jedi Master was studying him, investigating his every physical and mental nook and cranny, sizing him up and down like a laboratory specimen. Qui stared back, feeling as though his personal space was being invaded, and he inched back ever so slightly on his seat.

“Master Jinn,” Dias said slowly, his voice hoarse and subdued, “I do not like this. In fact, I fear that I am liking this about as much as you are. I therefore have just a thing or two to say to you: one is not to make my life difficult, for I will only return the favour if you do. The second is to never mention your master whilst you are under this roof. As of this moment, you are not Serenn Dooku’s apprentice, you are mine, and until these twelve weeks have elapsed, you shall be only that.” He leant forward, staring deep into Qui’s eyes, “Is that clear, Master Jinn?”

Jinn realised that he had arched back in a vain attempt to evade that wintry stare and, with a swift nod of ascent, he was finally relieved of Vance’s presence as the man got up and returned, again, to his kitchen. Jinn exhaled, expelling a relief of such profundity, one would think he had just eluded the very grasps of death.

He ran his hand back over his head and grabbed his bag, hugging it to himself protectively. He felt like a lost puppy, his bag and his very clothes the only thing that remained of his old home. He was the droid who had had its memory mercilessly wiped, his old identity abruptly replaced by a clean, bland slate, awaiting the shaping and fostering of this chill and faceless man.

Risking a glance back, Jinn just caught sight of the man as he tinkered with something on the work surface in the kitchen. Studying him as closely as he could, he found a great many reflections of his master in this Jedi - they were both roughly middle-aged, had that long, black hair (though Dooku’s had been cut off as of late, and his wasn’t yet going grey, like Dias’) and both had a rather fancy goatee. Their faces were even built fairly similarly, and yet - and Jinn couldn’t quite put his finger on it - they were both so different. Their voices were at opposite ends of the scale, Dias’ frail and light, Dooku’s deep and velvety, and their eyes were the contrasting blue and brown, yet still, there was something inherently deeper between them that made them so dissimilar. Qui turned away and pondered on this for a while; around his master, he usually felt at ease, he felt as though he could trust and look up to him, but with Syfo-Dias, he felt jumpy and nervous; he couldn’t relax, he couldn’t feel anything but uncertainty and fear toward the man. And still he could not explain why.

“Your room is over there, Master Jinn,” was the next thing Qui-Gon heard from behind. He looked up and saw a door directly ahead of him. Guessing that this was to be his home for the next three months, he trundled over to it and went inside. Then he shut the door, kicked the wall and permitted his eyes to let loose a lonesome tear.

---

The next morning dawned grey and sombre. Jinn had hoped that the weather might at least have the courtesy of appearing to be pleased with itself, but he guessed that even that was too much to ask. He stared at the dreary view, peeping in at him through the blinds on his window, and resolved not to get up yet. A nearby clock told him it was 7:02am Coruscant Central Time, and also that it would be 4:34am in the Alderaanian capital, and 6:08pm at the Chandrillan principal city, but he couldn’t care less right now. He lay his head back and looked up at the ceiling - it was white, and the rest of his room was the sour milk colour. His room was as plain as plain came, having little or no furniture, never mind decoration. His belongings he had left in his rucksack on the floor - for some reason, he felt they were safer in his bag than anywhere else in this foreign land. He didn’t even trust the wardrobe.

He’d had a dream last night. He’d seen his master in the distance, across the other side of a gorge, and Master Dooku had waved at him, shouting for him to follow quickly. With as much enthusiasm as he could muster, Qui had paced backward and taken a running leap across the abyss - when he was in flight, however, the other side had gotten further and further away, and soon, he just fell and fell and fell, until, with a thud, he’d woken up in his bed, his duvet wrapped around his legs all over again.

He was hungry, but he couldn’t even care about food right now. There were five words imprinted boldly in his mind that were currently taking precedence over everything else, and they were ‘I want to go home’. And home wasn’t just the room downstairs - it was his Master.