SUMMARY: Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan. Discussion of sex. Angst. Can
Obi-Wan handle a life without love when his master tells him
that both love and sex must be strictly controlled?
ARCHIVE: Please. As often as possible and wherever you like.
The candle had been put back, the wick stubbed out and the wax
cooling.
Obi-Wan could no longer blame the smoke for the beginnings of
tears in his eyes.
He paused there for a moment, attempting to assert control. At
his age, all of sixteen years, it should have been easy. He was
no stranger to emotion or to controlling it.
And yet, control came hard to him this night, and his
meditation had only made it more difficult, not less so.
He realized, dimly, that it was not yet over.
The long, long day that had begun with anticipation of an
unexpected pleasure had died into this. And it was not
finished.
He'd had a rare quiet day with his master. A day to talk and
contemplate and just be. Without the pressure of lessons
or the thousand duties and disciplines a padawan must
constantly be under. No, he had Qui-Gon all to himself.
Obi-Wan had been looking forward to it for a day, ever since
he'd known about it. Had been on edge all morning today until
the necessary minimum of meditation and practice had been
gotten out of the way.
And then...
Obi-Wan reached out to the wall, using its solidity for
balance.
Qui-Gon sat down, smiling. A rare, precious smile that Obi-Wan
cherished.
He felt wanted, and was glad yet again to have his master's
company today.
And then Qui-Gon spoke. "I need to speak to you about an
important issue."
Obi-Wan nodded soberly. Yes. Get whatever his master had on
his mind out of the way so that they could be together and have
fun.
"It's about your growing adulthood." Quiet, assessing eyes
watched him carefully, even as Qui-Gon's half-smile sought to
reassure him. "We need to discuss the issue of love and sex."
Obi-Wan's posture stiffened. The Talk. They were about to have
The Talk. He'd heard of it from other padawans, and knew it was
standard. Standard. After a moment, he relaxed again. Yes, this
could be gotten through in a minimum of time, and they could go
on with their day as planned.
Qui-Gon's smile faded into a strong look of reassurance.
Obi-Wan felt a qualm of fear. What was so bad that his master
felt the need to reassure him first?
"Obi-Wan, I have been aware of your changing emotions for some
time, and your attempts to deal with them. You are of the age
when such feelings are natural and to be expected."
He nodded.
"However, how you are dealing with these new feelings is
unacceptable. I have a text for you to read called 'The Enemy
Inside' that discusses the specific issues I wish you to work
on in depth."
"Issues, master?"
"Yes, Obi-Wan." Hands firmly tucked into his sleeves, Qui-Gon
said, "you have turned your feelings upon inappropriate
subjects for your age. Indeed, at your current age, there are
no appropriate subjects for you to turn it upon. And you have
been projecting these feelings to anyone who is not shielded
against such projections."
"Not appropriate..." He didn't know what to say. When, how?
What was appropriate?
"Most definitely not appropriate. You must channel them to
more appropriate ends. And times as well as places. For an
adolescent such as yourself, the only appropriate time and
place is in your bedchamber, either after all of your duties
for the day have been performed, or before they have begun in
the morning. And you're not to short yourself on sleep either,
to pursue such experiences."
Obi-Wan knew the appropriate response. It was all he could
say. "Yes, master."
Qui-Gon understood him better than that. "What I'm telling you
may seem harsh, Obi-Wan, but discipline is the goal of the Jedi
life. And discipline must start young. You have, until now,
been under a child's discipline in these matters, now you will
learn the discipline of a youth."
"I... will do my best."
His statement earned him an affectionate grin. "I know you
will, padawan." Then the smile disappeared. "Because you will
spend the rest of the day working on your shielding and
studying the text I've assigned you. I also have both a mental
and a physical discipline for you to add to your practices.
They are to be used whenever you think an inappropriate
thought."
Left unsaid was the implication that Obi-Wan would not commit
an inappropriate action. Obi-Wan was expected to be able to
control his actions.
Obi-Wan nodded again.
Instead of an afternoon spent in quiet sharing of their bond
and of the joy of being alive and in the Force, Obi-Wan found
himself saddled with new exercises that were more difficult
than any he had tackled thus far, calling as they did for
complete control of emotions and reflexes he'd thought
involuntary. And calling, as they also did, for the utter
loneliness of his heart.
Midway through the afternoon, Qui-Gon had abandoned him for a
Council meeting, and Obi-Wan had left off his studying in order
to think about what the new pattern for his life that he'd been
given.
He needed to be cared about. Desperately wished for it
at times. To be held and sheltered, to be wanted and needed.
And now his master was telling him that these feelings were
wrong, were a weakness to be purged as Obi-Wan might purge an
unhappy or angry thought.
That his nebulous feelings of desire had to go, Obi-Wan
understood. Control over the flesh -- that made sense, and
indeed, he was not completely forbidden to pleasure himself,
only to restrict when he might do so. It was not an onerous or
unexpected duty.
But his master had said both love and sex. Which meant that
his other feelings would also need to go.
He wanted to... to do something, but before his feelings could
coalesce to a point where they could affect him strongly, he
sent them into the Force, grounding them safely.
And set himself to run through the exercises he'd been given
before resuming his study of the book.
Dinner had passed quietly, with Obi-Wan striving his utmost to
keep all feeling away from himself, to be completely detached.
It wasn't something he was very good at, but then, he'd just
started trying.
His master did him the courtesy of ignoring his fumbling, and
retired early to bed.
And Obi-Wan had meditated, a candle flame as his focus.
Meditated until he could not stand it any longer.
He pushed away from the wall, and felt dizzy. The tears were
still close to the surface.
He didn't know if he could learn this lesson. Didn't know if
he could survive if lack of love were the Jedi way. He'd have
to. His life was dedicated to this, and becoming a Jedi was the
only goal he'd ever had, but it was so hard...
He felt the cool tears around his eyes, on his lashes and
beginning to roll down his cheeks. Self-pity. That was what he
felt. A useless emotion.
He looked off to the right, toward his chamber. Blackness
awaited him there. The coldness and discipline that was to be
his life.
And he could not embrace it. Could not stand going in there.
But the only alternative was to leave the Jedi, to leave his
master, the only person he truly loved...
...and love was an emotion he was no longer allowed to have.
Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and decided.
Stumbling footsteps took him to the circle of light that was
his master's doorway, and within.
Qui-Gon was seated on the bed, legs stretched out, reading. He
looked up as his apprentice approached. "Is something the
matter, padawan?"
Obi-Wan went to his knees. "I must beg your forgiveness,
although I have no right to it."
The bed moved, and then Qui-Gon's hand was touching his hair
gently. "No right? Obi-Wan, please explain."
The gesture almost undid him as more tears slipped out. He
kept them out of his voice with an effort. "I... can't do what
you told me. I am weak. I have disobeyed, and in all
conscience, I can't tell you that I will ever obey. If you have
any kindness left in your heart for me, forgive me for this."
The tears had slipped into his voice, despite his attempts to
steady it, and Obi-Wan took a deep, shuddering breath.
"Any kindness? My padawan, what is the matter?"
"I can't do as you say. And I can't stay in the Jedi if I
can't do as you say. So... please forgive me, master." He had
no right to that word now, none at all. "P-please."
Solid arms enfolded him, and he was lifted into Qui-Gon's lap
and held tightly. "Obi-Wan, my Obi-Wan, what troubles you so
much that you would leave the Jedi for it? Please, let me have
a chance to put it aright."
"Today's lesson. I... I can give up," he blushed despite
himself, "sexual thoughts. I understand the need. But I can't
give up love. If I give that up, then there's nothing left at
all and I don't know any reason to keep on..."
He couldn't speak. The tears were falling freely now, and he
pressed his face into Qui-Gon's shoulder, needing the comfort
even if it was wrong.
He felt himself being rocked, felt the large palm against his
head, cradling him close, and he continued to cry for all that
he was giving up no matter what happened to him. Qui-Gon could
grant this love to a child, but never to the man Obi-Wan was
supposed to become. And if Obi-Wan left... there would be no
Qui-Gon for him at all.
Gradually he became aware that Qui-Gon was talking, had been
murmuring a litany of reassurances all along. "Hush, Obi-Wan.
There's no need to cry. You don't need to give up that kind of
love. Not ever. Without it, we would be machines. A Jedi must
never lose his compassionate heart. Hush, it will be all
right."
"It's all right?" he asked, looking up at Qui-Gon, face wet.
Obi-Wan wiped his face with his sleeve. "You... you could still
c-care about me?"
"Always, my Obi-Wan."
That brought on another bout of tears, which would have been
distressing to Obi-Wan at any other time. At his age, he did
not cry. Why, he'd been a padawan for three whole years.
But at the moment he could not help himself.
And after a time, he felt Qui-Gon easing him down, and tucking
a blanket around his exhausted form.
When his master moved away, Obi-Wan roused himself enough to
protest weakly, but Qui-Gon sat down again on the bed next to
him, reader firmly in hand.
"Go to sleep, Obi-Wan. I'm right here."
He fell asleep to the caress of a hand against his hair.
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