Feedback: Yes, please! Feedback makes me want to write more.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the lovelies that are mentioned
in this story, a very nice man named George Lucas does. So
nice, in fact, that I ask him not to sue me for using his
stuff, I promise I'll put 'em back almost the way I found them.
Summary: Set after TPM, Obi-Wan returns to Bandomeer.
WARNING: Major spoilers for the Jedi Apprentice books here. No
smut this time, folks, just a little angstfest. Apologies for
it not being beta-read, but my Padawan D'Angel hasn't read the
books and I don't want to spoil them for her.
The shuttle doors opened and a blast of warm air rushed inward,
blending with the residue of coldness inside. The lone man took
an instinctive deep breath, the freshness a welcome respite
from the stale, recycled air of his long journey. The subtle
fragrance in the wind, all planets seemed to possess their own
distinctive scent, plucked at a long-ago memory in the man's
mind. Taking another deep breath of the bittersweet air, he
finally stepped out of the hold and Obi-Wan set foot on
Bandomeer for the first time in over a decade.
The landing pad was alive with activity as workers from several
species went about their duties. No one greeted him with more
than a quick smile and no one stopped him as he walked through
the maze of cargo and ships to the foreman's office. A few
quick questions and he located the speeder he had been
assigned. Only a bare half-hour since his landing he was on his
way, sailing through the landscape.
The Agri-Corps had had a resounding success here, the plains
bristled with vegetation of all kinds, some native to the
planet and some not, but all healthy. He slowed near a small
copse of trees, then stopped, hopping lightly out of the
speeder and walking to the trees. Golden fruit hung heavily
from the branches and he plucked one free, weighed it in his
hand for a long moment as he closed his eyes against another
memory.
'What am I doing here,' he wondered.
He'd been allowed some leave time, time to mourn and recover
from his loss before he began training the child who was
awaiting him eagerly at the Academy, the title 'Master' on the
child's lips, just waiting to be spoken. Waiting the two weeks
before Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi would finally begin his
training.
Two weeks.
They had given him all of two standard weeks to find a way to
put aside the loss of his Master and to get on with life. And
he had come to Bandomeer. Three days on the freighter to get
here and it would take three more to get back.
Eleven days left, and he didn't even know how to begin.
How could he begin? There was nothing in the galaxy large
enough to fill the void within him. It hadn't been just one
loss but an infinite number ripped from his hands when he had
watched the life seep from those azure eyes before they closed
for the last time. My teacher, my father, friend, love.
Everything. Qui-Gon had been a world of men, not just one, and
Obi-Wan wondered if he could ever recover.
He opened his eyes to find that he had crushed the small yellow
fruit, juice dripped from his hand and ran down his arm.
Unthinkingly, Obi-Wan raised his hand to his mouth and licked a
trickle of juice away. The taste opened yet another floodgate
of memory in his mind and Obi-Wan sank to his knees, dropping
the pulped fruit.
Si Treemba. When had he last seen the Arconan? He couldn't even
remember. Distance and time had come between them and they had
drifted apart, as friends sometimes do. Another loss, but this
one had crept up on him so quietly that he had been unaware of
it until it had pounced and then it was too late. Arconans were
not a long-lived species, not as long as humans at any rate and
Si Treemba had passed on, surrounded by the loving comfort of
his people and whatever peace they had been able to offer him.
The only peace Qui-Gon had received was from Obi-Wan's sweaty
embrace and his promise, given to the Jedi Master as he was
dying on the filthy floor of a melting pit, surrounded by the
reek of darkness.
He hadn't wept when Qui-Gon died. At the time it had been all
he could do to continue breathing, hitching in great gulps of
air despite the pleas of his heart and lungs that he simply
cease and lie there in death with his Master. Now the pressure
of those unshed tears seemed to be always behind his eyes,
waiting for a moment of weakness to break through.
Obi-Wan simply leaned forward, rested his forehead on the cool
grass, arms clenched tightly around his midsection as if he
could physically hold the pain within, swathing it under layer
after layer of Force enhanced control. He focused his mind
away, extended his senses outward to center on anything else,
anything but the roiling agony within. On the heat of the sun
on his back, warming him through his robes. On a bead of sweat
that formed at the nape of his neck, felt it tickle downward
until it was absorbed in his collar.
Just a little longer and he'd have it under control, a few more
deep breaths and he would regain his composure and get up, just
a little longer. One tear seeped past his tightly closed eyes,
one salty drop of liquid escaped, a chink in the dam. Others
followed, slipping through his control, widening the crack
until it burst free, the walls he'd built inside crumbled and
it was all he could do not to scream his pain to the skies.
Instead he just collapsed, all his strength leaving him as he
fell over on his side, curled in a fetal position of complete
withdrawal. He pressed his face tightly against his knees and
gave himself over to the agony that was boiling out of him
faster than he could hope contain it. Every time he'd start to
calm another sob would well inside him, almost becoming a
strangled scream when it reached his throat.
How was it the universe could still go on as if nothing had
happened? It should collapse into nothingness at this...this
obscenity. That one so full of all that was beautiful should
fall to such ugliness.
He had no concept of time, no idea as to how long he was lying
there, racked with sobs, but when the tears finally tapered
off, becoming instead hoarse gasps for air and he raised his
reddened eyes the shadows were long and the suns were dipping
below the horizon.
He rolled over onto his back, limp as a wrung out dish cloth
and felt...cleansed. He took a deep breath, held it, then let
it out in a long gust. Definitely much better. He'd been
holding his anguish inside him the past weeks, long enough that
there had been a danger of it becoming a permanent part of him.
No wonder the Council had sent him on a leave of absence.
He took another deep breath and released it. The tightness
inside him had eased somewhat; Qui-Gon would have scolded him
for letting it eat at him like that.
Qui-Gon.
He shut his eyes briefly but that was all, the pain he was
expecting at the thought of his master, his love, was no more
than a twinge. He sat up then and again took in his
surroundings.
It had all started here, a reluctant Jedi Master taking on an
overeager Padawan. Obi-Wan smiled at the memory, they had
bonded so quickly, despite Qui-Gon's hesitance, and that bond
had only deepened over the years that passed.
Qui-Gon had told him once, teasingly, that he had known even
then that they were destined, and that was why he had really
resisted taking Obi-Wan as his Padawan for so long. Obi-Wan had
replied tartly it was a shame that -he- hadn't known, and that
if he had he wouldn't have pushed so hard for the older Jedi to
accept him. Qui-Gon's response had been to pull his protesting
apprentice into his arms and kiss him silent.
Unbidden, the memory of their first kiss rose in his mind. It
had been just after a particularly dangerous mission, they had
been supposed to help negotiate peace between warring clans on
Tar'heel and instead had nearly been killed themselves as war
broke out.
They had been forced to flee their mission a failure and on
their shuttle after Obi-Wan had left the pilot to his work and
sought out his Master. He'd found the older man in their
quarters sitting cross-legged in apparent mediation but Obi-Wan
knew otherwise, because he could feel it himself. They were
still so close to the planet, the people dying in droves and
they could both feel the backlash of those deaths through the
Force.
Obi-Wan had sunk to his knees before his Master, his friend,
had sent a tendril of comfort through their link. Qui-Gon had
opened his eyes, reached out and touched a bruise that had been
forming on Obi-Wan's cheek, proof of their difficult exit. And
when Qui-Gon had leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to
Obi-Wan's, it had seemed so natural, so -right- that words had
seemed unnecessary and indeed had remained unspoken until the
next morning.
Other memories came, of other missions, some successful, some
not. Memories of them lying together on sleep couches, beds,
pallets across the galaxy, entwined in passion, in sleep, in
companionship. Lying together after making love, still
touching, neither wanting to move and relinquish their
closeness. Lying together when one or the other of them was
injured or sick, soothing each other with the heat and comfort
of their bodies.
Qui-Gon defending their union to the Council, trying to take
all the blame upon himself despite Obi-Wan's protests. Qui-Gon
fighting back laughter at some comment or image the younger man
mentally sent when they were forced to attend boring diplomatic
functions, struggling to turn a stern look to his precocious
apprentice and often failing. Qui-Gon, who, for all his outward
calm at the funeral pyre, had been filled with loss and despair
when a Jedi Master who had been a close friend had died and
that night had sought comfort in his Padawan's embrace, the
brief role reversal easily accepted by them both.
The times Qui-Gon had practiced techniques shirtless, Obi-Wan
had been fascinated more than once by the play of muscles under
that lovely skin. Qui-Gon. Passionate and compassionate,
shunning the straight and narrow path of the code and instead
forging his own trail, one that Obi-Wan had followed with him,
as best he could.
And he would continue to do so.
The suns had set completely and the grove of trees was cast in
shadow. Obi-Wan stood, stretching muscles that were cramped
from being in the same position so long. There was no death,
there was only the Force, he told himself, had been told time
and time again by countless others, including Qui-Gon.
And he now had only ten more days to convince himself it was
true.
With a final stretch Obi-Wan walked over to his speeder,
climbed in, and left, heading towards the city compound where
he was staying.
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