Master Apprentice
Archive
Five Years
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Archive - M_A Archive, and my LiveJournal MEMORIES section http://lauramcewan.livejournal.com/ - all others just ask.
Category - Qui/Obi, Angst, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, AR (AU?)
Rating - R
Disclaimer - These boys are mine only in my dreams, my bookshelf, and in my DVD player. They belong completely to King George of Lucas, in a galaxy far, far away. Money is no object, for none exists in my wallet.
Summary - For the Five Year Anniversary challenge. Qui-Gon looks back on the last five years since that moment.
Feedback - Is a wonderful treasure. Feel free to email me or post a comment on my LiveJournal post of this story. http://lauramcewan.livejournal.com/
Thanks goes to: Ghostwriter, Elocin Oco, and Obi-Ki for their valuable input and beta on such a bare-bones piece. Any mistakes and all tweaks are mine.
Five years.
Five years since the Sith had run Qui-Gon through with a red-hot blade.
Five years since he had whispered what he had believed to be his dying words, begging Obi-Wan to train the boy.
Five years since Yoda had taken the boy away.
Four years since Qui-Gon been allowed to return to his quarters. Two days in bacta and months of painful rehabilitation had kept him in the medical wards, trying to control his raging emotions at having been denied becoming one with the Force, and effectively losing his ability to harness and use its power.
Four years since Obi-Wan had touched him for the first time. Looking back, the intimacy was innocent and justified, given how much care Obi-Wan had given his master. Dressing, feeding, helping him to the fresher, even helping to hold Qui-Gon's flaccid cock when he had to relieve himself.
Four years since Obi-Wan had talked in his sleep, exhausted from his daily devotions.
Four years since Qui-Gon had sat trapped on his bed, as yet unable to walk without aid, but unwilling to awaken the young man at his side. Instead, he petted the head that lay heavily on his lap, running his fingers clumsily through the soft spikes, and silently answered the murmured questions.
"I love you, Master. Do you love me, too?"
Yes, I do. Oh, you know I do, don't you?
"I want to really touch you, Master, not like I have been, but the way I want to."
I want you to touch me, too, Obi-Wan. So very much.
Three years since Qui-Gon began to walk alone again.
Three years since he had taken his first steps without Obi-Wan's assistance, supported by his love all the same.
Three years since Obi-Wan had led Qui-Gon into a failed attempt at meditation to touch the Force once more.
Three years since Qui-Gon had received word that Anakin's training was going well with another master.
Two years since Obi-Wan had been belatedly knighted in a ceremony over which Qui-Gon was proud to preside, leaning on a carved wooden cane, smoothing the thin plait between his fingers before he cut it and proclaimed his boy a man.
Two years since the braid had been saved, coiled in a crystal box on Qui-Gon's bedside table.
Two years since Obi-Wan had been sent on a solo mission, leaving a newly independent Qui-Gon alone for the first time in three years.
Two years since Qui-Gon had stood on a windy balcony, staring at the stars that had been his home for so many years, angry about the lack of a mental Force bond with Obi-Wan, and praying for his safe and swift return.
One year since Obi-Wan had been returned to him, beaten and bloody.
One year since Qui-Gon had found himself sitting the helpless vigil at the bacta tank, watching the man he loved float in an ominous sea of red for the better part of a day.
One year since Obi-Wan had relapsed from his internal injuries and nearly died, jerking spasmodically in Qui-Gon's arms. The cold, sterile room had echoed with the shrill shriek of the alarms.
One year since Qui-Gon had desperately, stubbornly sought for and at last found his lost Force-power, wrapping Obi-Wan in its healing strength, holding Obi-Wan back from death as the healers worked over him frantically.
One year since the healers insisted that Qui-Gon sleep. He had collapsed exhausted onto the extra bed they had brought for him and dreamt of his Obi-Wan, waking in the wee hours of the night with an erect cock for the first time in four years.
One year since Obi-Wan had awakened that night too, groaning in pain but reaching for and grasping Qui-Gon's hand with remarkable strength.
One year since Qui-Gon had felt whole again, like a Jedi once more, no longer impotent in either his own sexuality or in the Force.
One night since they had touched each other intimately, warmly, and without reserve.
One night since Qui-Gon had pulled Obi-Wan close, touched his mouth with one trembling finger, and whispered, "I love you."
One night since Obi-Wan had surged up to capture those whispering lips with his own.
One night since they had kissed, petted, stroked and panted together.
One night since they had murmured and cried out for each other.
One night since they had opened their hearts and opened their bodies to each other.
Their first night of passion.
Their first night of honesty, promises, and commitments.
Their first night of love.
And this morning, bathed in the soft dawn light, two men sleep peacefully, wrapped in each others' arms, one head tucked under the other, sharing their dreams.
Only a lifetime to go.
~end