This is my third TPM story and gasp a songfic. It was
inspired by P.J. Harvey's "The Garden" (which is where the
title comes from, though I took some liberties with the plot).
I've put the lyrics at the end of the story, so if you don't
want to read them, you don't have to.
Rating: PG (WARNING: songfic and angst)
Pairing: Q/O (surprise, surprise)
Spoilers: Major ones for TPM
Archive: yes to M-A, please ask for anywhere else
Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them, I'll put them back, please
don't sue me...
Feedback: Absolutely! Unqualified raves or constructive
criticism will be appreciated equally. Well, almost equally.
Thanks to Sarah for beta-ing (though mistakes are still my
fault) and encouragement.
The small door wasn't obvious to most people, being made of the
same dull gray as the walls of the long, winding hallway.
Obi-Wan Kenobi could no longer remember when he'd first tried
opening it, but the wonder that he'd felt that day was the same
every time he returned to enter again. Behind the door lay the
Temple Gardens, a small patch of quiet green amid Coruscant's
constant artificial glow.
As he opened the door now, the smell of damp earth hit him
first. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a minute and
pausing to absorb the scent. Then he took a step forward and
let his eyes open upward, revealing the dark patch of sky
tucked between the tall spires of the surrounding buildings.
There was an instant of vertigo at the feeling of depth and
vast emptiness, but he was almost used to it by now, and
continued in to the centre of the gardens, letting the door
swing closed behind him.
The small gardens were usually deserted and the few Jedi who
knew of their existence and cared to visit them tended to
wander their narrow paths during the day when the flowers were
in bloom. Obi-Wan came to the gardens at night. He spent many
of his free evenings here -- and he seemed to have a lot of
free evenings these days. He spent the required number of hours
training with his Padawan, but the boy had many friends among
the other apprentices and he felt bad keeping the boy away from
them. Besides, he preferred to be alone.
His boots were leaving prints on the grass already, the dew
settling quickly in the cool night. He tilted his head back and
stared up at the sky, watching the stars come out one by one.
After a few minutes, his neck started to ache and he spread his
cloak out on the damp grass and lay down, leaning back on his
elbows.
As his mind drifted, he found himself thinking back on the
afternoon's training. Anakin had been technically perfect but
had lacked a certain spirit, something he'd been unable to
explain to the boy.
"Again," he'd ordered, and Anakin had stared at him a moment
too long before obeying. He never disobeyed openly, but there
were looks, pauses which went on too long... Obi-Wan sighed. He
didn't know how to deal with children. It was a result of being
at the Academy at such a young age, he assumed. He'd never
really had to deal with younger siblings or had to take care of
other children. The students at the Academy had been expected
to act as adults and when he tried to treat Anakin the same
way, he kept feeling as if he were doing something wrong. He'd
tried to bring it up with Master Yoda, but hadn't been able to
find the right words to explain it and he'd gone away feeling
even more confused and uncertain.
He'd never expected to have to train a Padawan so young when he
was so inexperienced himself. He sighed and took a deep breath,
trying to leave his thoughts behind. He stared up at the stars.
He had tried to count them, the first night he'd been allowed
to stay up late enough to see them. He'd gotten to some
insanely high number when he'd been interrupted suddenly by the
sight of a shooting star streaking across the sky. Startled and
worried, he'd sought out an older boy to ask about it.
When he'd learned that it had been a star plummeting out of the
sky, he'd been so upset and angry that he'd almost burst into
tears.
"Silly, it's just a star."
"It was beautiful," Obi-Wan had protested heatedly,
trying to hide his sorrow but still certain that the stars had
been equally saddened by the loss of one of their own. He still
felt a twinge of sadness whenever he saw a falling star.
Despite his earlier resolve to clear his mind, he now found
himself drawn back to the same thoughts he always dwelt on.
He'd knelt, his master's head cradled heavy in his lap, and
pressed his face close to catch every precious word. He was no
longer sure of the exact words, having imagined the moment so
often he could no longer get a clear picture of it. But Qui-Gon
had told him to train the boy. To do what he would have done,
had he lived.
Obi-Wan didn't know how Qui-Gon would have trained Anakin.
Sometimes, he thought, it might be better that he'd died. His
master had not been known for setting a good example of
appropriate Jedi behaviour, and the other masters had talked
behind his back. Obi-Wan could still hear the whispers, the
worried questions. They'd come to him sometimes, asking him
about his master. Checking up. They wouldn't have to do that
with Anakin, not now. Then his heart pounded and his ears rang
and he felt physically sick. Better... no, never better. To
have him near, to be able to talk to him whenever he wanted...
his body shook involuntarily as he remembered all the times
since his master's death that he'd suddenly thought of a
question to ask, a snide comment to make, and then realized
with a deadening thud that he couldn't. To be able to touch
him, to be held by him, to fall into his arms after a long day,
to learn from his sure steps and firm moves...
But Qui-Gon wasn't here. He was dead, and Obi-Wan had to train
Anakin as best as he could. He wouldn't make the mistakes
Qui-Gon had. He would follow the rules.
Still, Qui-Gon was good -- had been good -- with children. He
could make them laugh, he could dry their tears and soothe
their fears. Obi-Wan remembered the nightmares he'd had as a
teenager after his first battles, and the calming words his
master had whispered to him in those long dark nights. He could
chase away the shadows with a word, could banish the demons
which plagued him. He would have known exactly how to deal with
Anakin. There would have been no hint of rebellion, no trace of
insolence. When the boy lay in bed crying for his mother,
Qui-Gon would have known exactly what to say. Obi-Wan had tried
patting his shoulder, had tried talking to him of other things
to distract him, had tried everything. Now he simply lay in his
own bed and listened to the boy's sobs. It was impossible to
block them out. He found himself echoing them in his head,
replaying every moment he'd ever spent with his master, eyes
dry, mentally crying his own silent tears.
It was one of the reasons he came out to the gardens at night.
Let Anakin cry himself to sleep -- out in the gardens, he could
escape the sound. He could get away from the physical reminder
of Qui-Gon's death. He could try to clear his mind. It never
worked; he could never escape completely, but at least out in
the night he could try. He could be alone.
He had rarely been alone. As a young child, he'd been with his
brother, then he'd gone on to the Academy and hundreds of other
children. From the Academy, he'd gone straight to Qui-Gon's
side. And later, to his arms. To his bed.He found himself
shaking again, and made himself draw a deep breath. In, out.
The only problem with being alone -- his brain screamed at him:
never again to feel his arms, never again to hear his words,
never again to taste his kisses -- the only problem with being
alone was that he was left alone with his thoughts. He could be
truly alone, now. He would give anything not to be.
He'd never really had time to think before, to really consider
every word, every glance of a situation. Now, it was all he
could do. Replaying every second of the few precious moments
he'd had with Qui-Gon before his death... the agonizing wait
behind the glowing barrier, the overwhelming surge of rage and
hatred that had overcome him as he threw himself at the Sith,
the wrenching moment when he realized that his master was dead.
That had been the last time he'd truly been able to clear his
mind. He'd cradled the body, rocking it gently back and forth,
face pressed to its face. His master's face. And then nothing.
His mind had gone totally and mercifully blank until someone
had come to find them.
He'd been brought back to his senses by a touch on his back, by
a stifled gasp of shock, and he'd calmly smoothed the hair off
Qui-Gon's forehead and had laid the head carefully on the
ground. He had gotten to his feet and had stepped back,
allowing whoever it was (he could picture the man's face
perfectly, but had not asked him his name -- hadn't cared) to
attend to the body. The man had called for help to remove the
body and had expressed his condolences. Obi-Wan had been
perfectly reasonable. Perfectly calm. He'd made all the
necessary arrangement: he had contacted Coruscant, had spoken
to Master Yoda. He hadn't cried at all, since that first long
empty moment.
He wouldn't cry now. He stared up at the stars and let his mind
drift.
Obi-Wan was tired. He'd taken to spending most of his time here
when he should have been in bed sleeping. As he stared up at
the sky, the bright lights twinkled and blurred as his eyelids
started to fall shut. The light seemed very close, suddenly, as
if the stars were only a few feet away rather than millions of
miles. So bright... he had to close his eyes.
A moment later he was startled by a soft touch on his lips. His
eyes flew open and for a terrifying second, he seemed to be
surrounded by starlight, as if he'd drifted up into the sky.
He closed his eyes again, his heart pounding, and made himself
clear his mind and calm himself before he dared open them
again. This time, he was able to look carefully, logically, at
the blue glow which blocked his vision. Had he gone blind? The
thought terrified him beyond all reason, and he cried out and
sat up suddenly. The light faded.
He blinked over and over, readjusting his vision to the
darkness, and shivered suddenly with the chill of the evening.
A touch on his arm shocked him into stillness, and his muscles
instantly tensed and his body froze.
"Obi-Wan..." The voice dissolved his fear instantly. In
desperation, a sudden surge of longing, he flung himself onto
his knees and spun around to find himself face to face with his
master crouched before him in the damp grass. His face and body
were luminous, surrounded with the same blue glow he'd mistaken
for starlight.
"Qui-Gon!" He threw his arms around his master, or tried to,
and cried out in anguish when he fell through the figure onto
the grass. "Master!" He spun again, reached out more slowly
this time toward Qui-Gon's face. His fingers trembled as they
neared his master's lips, and he pulled back, unwilling to fail
a second time.
"You will not be able to touch me, Obi-Wan." The voice was
gently chiding, loving, and he almost sobbed aloud at the
familiarity of it.
He stared, eyes wide to fully capture every aspect of his
master's face. "How... how can this be?" It was impossible. A
dream.
At the thought that he might have to wake up from this wonder,
he could no longer hold back the tears. "You died, you left
me..." The pain swelled with anger. "How could you let him kill
you?"
The mild surprise and calm patience on Qui-Gon's face shamed
him and he dropped back onto his heels. "I'm sorry," Obi-Wan
whispered, ashamed but refusing to glance away from his master
lest he disappear.
Qui-Gon smiled faintly. "I know." His fleshless hands stroked
Obi-Wan's shoulders. "It was so hard to leave you, Padawan.
Leaving you to train the boy alone." His fingers slid down
Obi-Wan's arms to cover his apprentice's hands. "But you
understand it had to be?"
"Of course, of course... you had to die. For the overall good.
You died!" Obi-Wan's voice rose. "Why did it have to be
you? I need you!"
The ghostly figure moved closer, enveloping him in its light.
"I need you too... I never said that enough, did I." He wrapped
his arms around his former apprentice and although Obi-Wan
couldn't feel the touch physically, he was aware of the
location of every finger pressing him through his robes.
"I knew," Obi-Wan murmured, feeling comforted as he hadn't
since Qui-Gon's death, and for the first time aware of the
petulance that had been in his voice, the sense of misplaced
injustice. "I love you."
"I came back," Qui-Gon said simply, and leaned forward and
pressed his lips against Obi-Wan's, like a cool breath of wind
against his face.
They sat for a long time, Qui-Gon's glow enfolding and
enveloping Obi-Wan, who stared up at his face, unblinking,
trying to scar every line and curve into his memory.
It was the cool dew soaking through the fabric of his cloak
which brought him out of his desperate contemplation. "Master,"
Obi-Wan breathed, "how long?" He didn't finish the question,
hadn't even wanted to have to think it, but it came out
nonetheless.
"I can't stay. This isn't my place any longer, Padawan."
The familiar term from those familiar lips made the tears start
flowing again. "Please..." He stretched his arms around the
blue form, imagining the physical bulk of his master pressed up
next to his chest. The tears streamed over the corners of his
mouth and when he parted his lips to beg once more, the salt on
his tongue choked him.
Qui-Gon's eyes were dark and shadowed, holding back their own
tears. "Please," he echoed, "Padawan, don't ask this of me."
"Stay. Oh Master, stay. I'm lost, I need you beside me at every
move, I need you to answer my every thought. Please, stay.
Stay. Stay." It poured out in a rush and though Obi-Wan could
hear the panic in his words he was unable to hold them back any
more than he could keep the stars up in the heavens. The
gasping pleas turned into sobs until his chest was shaking and
his body was convulsing in Qui-Gon's arms.
He wept, trembling, until he was jolted into silence by the
feel of a warm drop on his face. Mouth open, he put his head
back to look up into Qui-Gon's eyes, and stared at the tears
running down his master's face. He put a finger up to his cheek
and sucked his bottom lip in wonder as he felt the liquid
beneath his fingertip.
Obi-Wan kept his eyes fixed on his master's as he slowly
brought the finger to his lips and tasted the salt, running his
tongue lightly over its tip.
"It would be so easy," Qui-Gon said finally, his breath
catching. "We... we could be together. We are already so
close."
"I don't understand..." The hope was swelling within him,
despite his confusion.
"You felt it. Felt me." Qui-Gon smiled at him. "I don't
understand it myself. I don't know whether I am close to you,
or you are close to me."
"It doesn't matter," Obi-Wan interrupted, still savouring the
taste on his lips. "If we're close, we can be together. Surely
we can. There must be a way..." Desperation grew in his voice.
To be so close and to lose him a second time; he knew he
wouldn't be able to bear it.
"I know that I cannot return to... to be as you are. My time
has passed. But you--"
"My mind is with you already, Master. It would be so easy for
my body to join you as well." Obi-Wan pressed his lips to
Qui-Gon's cheek and this time, felt the whiskered skin beneath
his kiss. His voice was calmer, coaxing. "I can feel you..."
Qui-Gon pulled away sharply, his face serious. "Obi-Wan. This
is... this is not right."
Another hasty kiss, and the flesh felt even firmer, more solid.
"We love each other. How can this be wrong?" Obi-Wan could feel
the rough fabric of his master's cloak thickening under his
hands.
Qui-Gon's eyes were wide, worried. "Padawan. Look... look at
yourself." Obi-Wan nestled his head against the man's shoulder,
burying himself in his cloak and in the warmth he'd thought
he'd never feel again. "I'm too busy looking at you," he
whispered, wrapping his arm firmly around his master's waist.
"Look at yourself." The repeated words were faint, barely
disrupting the dark silence, but Qui-Gon's voice was so
uncharacteristically hollow that they seemed as loud as a
shout. Obi-Wan pushed himself away from his master.
"What?"
"Look at yourself." Qui-Gon's voice was empty, hopeless.
Obi-Wan lifted an arm up to the sky and gasped as he realized
that he could make out the stars through the once-solid flesh
of his arm. He jumped to his feet and stared down at the pale
glow surrounding his body.
"This is not final," Qui-Gon said urgently, "there's still
time. Obi-Wan, this must not happen. You must not die."
"You said there was a chance that we might be together. We're
so close." Obi-Wan stared desperately down at the kneeling
figure of his master. "You can't tell me now that..."
Qui-Gon rose, placed his hands on his Padawan's shoulders. "I
was wrong. This must not happen." His voice was no longer
urgent, simply resigned. "Think, Obi-Wan. You know it as well
as I do."
"No..." Obi-Wan looked pleadingly at him, raised his hands to
cover his master's as if to capture him. "You shouldn't have
died, I shouldn't die, what difference does it make?"
"If you die," Qui-Gon said, his voice low, "there will be no
hope. This galaxy will become a terrible place of dark and
shadows."
"You've never been afraid of shadows," Obi-Wan began, unable to
abandon the hope he'd been given. The coaxing smile returned to
his lips and he lightly caressed his master's long hands with
his fingertips. "Don't let fear come between us."
"I am afraid of these. It may be too late, there may be nothing
you can do -- but are you willing to take that risk? Are you
willing to die, knowing that the fate of the galaxy may rest
upon your shoulders?"
"I can't do it alone..." The hope was flickering.
"You won't be alone."
The words made Obi-Wan close his mouth, erased the pleading
words he'd been about to say. He stood perfectly still,
unwilling to give in either to hope or to despair.
"I will always be at your side. Every Jedi who can help will
help you, whether they are alive or dead. And I will be
standing before all of them. I promise you." The pain and
longing in Qui-Gon's voice had been replaced by quiet, loving
sorrow.
"It's not--" Obi-Wan felt small and selfish, but couldn't keep
in the words.
Qui-Gon's form seemed already to be fading to its former pale
blue glow. "It's not enough. I know. And my Padawan, you will
not always know when I am with you. You may not see me. You
will have to trust that I am there." Qui-Gon's voice faltered.
"It will be so hard, to be so near yet so far."
For an instant, he seemed more real, more solid, and he
tightened his grip on Obi-Wan's shoulders. Words catching in
his throat, he murmured, "I will not go until you accept this.
If... if you cannot live without me, I will not ask you to."
Obi-Wan's heart pounded in his ears, drowning out his thoughts.
"If I want to be with you... I can be?"
"Choose." Qui-Gon's eyes were anguished. "Choose quickly."
A cool breeze slid over Obi-Wan's face, rustled Qui-Gon's hair.
In the sky up above, a star fell rapidly and silently out of
the sky. Obi-Wan turned his head to watch it, unable to face
his master's waiting stare.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, then turned back to meet his
master's gaze. "I don't care. I don't care about shadows, I
don't care about darkness, all I care about is you." He reached
out and took Qui-Gon's hands. "I'm sorry," he repeated.
"We've lost," Qui-Gon breathed, the words barely audible,
floating between them in the humid night air. "I love you," he
mouthed, but it was as loud as a shout to Obi-Wan's ears as his
heartbeat faded into silence.
One man folded his arms around the other and their bodies
seemed to meld, no longer distinguishable as their dusky cloaks
swung together, folding into each other. The pale glow that had
surrounded the master now swelled to contain them both,
brightening to a dazzling light that illuminated the entire
garden.
In the arch of the doorway, a small figure crouched, watching.
Two bright eyes stared wide, reflecting the brilliance
emanating from the centre of the walled green.
The harsh light blazed to an almost unbearable radiance then
faded almost instantly, leaving the garden empty except for the
blinding afterglow in the boy's eyes.
As the sun's rays began to appear over the high walls of the
garden, Anakin pressed himself into the hard brick of the door
frame and waited for someone to come.
And there was trouble taking place.
The End.
The lyrics: "The Garden" by P.J. Harvey
and he was walking in the garden
and he was walking in the night
and he was singing a sad love song
and he was praying for his life
and the stars came out around him
he was thinking of his sins
and he's looking at his song-bird
and he's looking at his wings
there inside the garden
came another with his lips
said, 'Won't you come and be my lover?'
'Let me give you a little kiss?'
and he came, knelt down before him
and fell upon his knees
said, 'I will give you gold and mountains
if you stay a while with me...'
and there was trouble taking place...
there inside the garden
they kissed, and the sun rose
and he walked a little further
and he found he was alone
and the wind, it gathered round him
he was thinking of his sins
he was looking at his song-bird
and he was looking at his wings
Archive 