Series/Sequel: No, but this is a companion piece to "Blue
Shadows, Broken Mirror".
Summary: Obi-Wan reflects on a fateful decision which helped
him to save Qui-Gon's life, and the uncertain future which lies
ahead, post TPM.
Pairing: Q/O
Category: drama, A/U, angst, vignette
Rating: PG
Archive: M_A, SWA-L, QJEB and The Nesting Place only; all
others ask first please.
Disclaimer: Lucas owns 'em. I use 'em. Lots.
Notes: This is for the kind folks who asked for the flip side
to "Blue Shadows", which worked out well since Obi-Wan insisted
on being heard. No beta; please ignore mistakes.
Feedback: Yes please; it might lessen the pain of my mail
server deleting all my mail from the last twenty-four hours...
::sigh::
Where the first dream ended and reality began, I could not say.
The images twisted inside me like animals gone wild, gnawing
their way out until I was forced to allow them their freedom. I
saw the end of my world. Nothing could reassure me it would not
come to pass.
The dream left indelible imprints on my mind like smudges of
smoke from a hot fire. I saw him there in darkness, a hollow
silhouette illuminated by a storm of blue lightning, until
flickering flames obscured him from view. And then I woke,
screaming in the momentary absence of his touch, understanding
what it would be like to live a waking death. I was oblivious
to his gentle hands on my face, soothing me, and his soft words
of comfort. It was not enough to quiet me. I knew he was going
to die.
To live with the knowledge of impending sorrow is to be handed
an opportunity, a chance to change what is to be. It is what
the Jedi believe, and I sought guidance and consolation in the
truth of familiar teachings. I considered the consequences of
saying nothing, of bearing the weight of such possibilities
alone. Often, looked at me and knew there were words shouting
through my mind, warnings gaining urgency, dread and fear
pooling in the delicate abyss of insight. Questions formed in
his mind and were asked in his eyes, but he said nothing, out
of deference to my obvious silence.
I puzzled it through, deciding finally to share my fears. I
told him underneath the cover of the lengthening shadows of
night on a distant world, where the stillness of the evening
would lend weight to my hesitating words. The absence of light
in our quarters made it easier to speak. He rose from his bed
quickly, turning on a small lantern. For a moment he seemed far
away, focused on the future, but his startled posture relaxed
quickly into perfect calm. One corner of his mouth turned
upward into a small smile, an affirmation that these were
groundless worries, meant to be consigned to the world of
dreams where they originated. He said as much, reminding me
that I had never possessed the gift of knowing the future as
some of my classmates had. I longed to believe him, to take
solace from the wisdom of my Master, who had always been
correct about so many things.
It would have been much simpler to release my fears if the
dream had not recurred that very night, and with a vengeance
that would escalate over the years between that night, and
this.
My cries of terror woke him on those dreadful, infrequent
occasions, as I came shuddering to my senses with his arms
around me, his expression of helpless worry breaking my heart.
He tried to reason the dreams away, tried to be rational, even
stern, dismissing my fear of losing him, reminding me that
there was always danger in the life of a Jedi. I stopped
speaking of it at last, which seemed to ease his mind.
But I did not stop dreaming.
A year passed, and I knew that time was closing its grasp on my
Master. We worked, we trained, we neared the common goal of my
Knighthood. We accepted the assignments we were given, and our
duty took us to a world with two suns, where we found ourselves
separated out of necessity. I slept inside a silver star
descended down onto arid sand, and tumbled out of my dreams
with a shout, feeling the nearness of the moment which would
change everything. I sat silently amidst rumpled bedclothes,
feeling the ache of love for my Master growing from a lighted
spark to a burning core within me, already mourning the future
which would be snatched away. I hated myself for honoring the
traditions which stopped me from revealing my heart. I wondered
if I had any power to affect the direction of destiny.
Beyond those few hours, there was no time to reflect, for we
were quickly plunged into battles small and large. I found
words only to question my Master's decisions, and to apologize
for overstepping my place. No further conversation passed
between us; there was nothing more to be said, or at least
nothing more which would be heard. He was determined to set me
on a path which would not include him, not that it mattered. I
could not share him with the boy. And perhaps that pain would
fade, as well, in time.
So it was that we faced the Sith Lord, and I stood restrained
behind a crimson veil, my eyes riveted to Qui-Gon's graceful
form, watching the strength bleed from him with every strike of
the enemy's saber. Fury and desperation rattled down inside me.
For the first time, my Master was losing a fight, and I saw him
pull back many times, saving his strength in a patient and
careful manner. It was unlike him, such restraint in combat,
such conservative defense.
And suddenly, for the first time, I realized my Master was
relying on me, to step in when the opportunity was presented,
to enter the conflict as an equal, to be the other half of the
whole. Even as I understood, I felt the joy within me tempered
down by foreboding, and knew that the laser walls might drop
too late. There was only one thing to do, one thing which would
give him the advantage, the precious seconds of distraction,
the focus which would restore his energy. I hung my lightsaber
back at my belt and readied myself.
The red mist before my eyes disappeared, and I became a blur of
motion as I jolted forward and lifted myself in the air,
somersaulting across the melting pit, setting myself between my
Master and my dream, and felt the beautiful pain of victory as
I took the blow which would have killed Qui-Gon. I fell,
immobile, damaged. I heard my Master roar with anger, a sound
I'd never believed possible, and knew by the ripples of the
Force which flowed over me that the Sith Lord was dead.
He gathered me in his arms like a child, yet not as a child,
but as a man -- one who had words to speak which might be
wanted, at long last. My tears betrayed me, as I disregarded
pain and tried to say it all in one breath. His lips covered
mine, hushing me, showing me, persuading me to be silent for a
moment and accept his love in return. He whispered softly next
to my ear, speaking only for me, telling me we would not be
apart again, that no longer would he ignore the demands of his
own heart, or mine. That he had been a fool. The agony of my
wound was too brilliant and deep, and I should not have
remembered what he said; yet, his words are etched like crystal
in my mind.
Qui-Gon carried me through the palace, past the Queen and her
remaining troops, past the boy who once held exaggerated
importance in my thoughts. There was a brief moment of panic
when he laid me down, and I found myself resisting the touch of
anyone but my Master. No matter. He helped them dress my wound,
his hands briefly resting on my body, filling me with the
sensation of utter peace. I was too weak to walk any great
distance, and he carried me once again, bearing me easily,
walking with great, powerful strides, until he reached our
quarters. Once there, he healed me, giving with the last of his
capacity so that I might be well. I marveled at how quickly it
had come about, this unity, this effortless joining of hearts.
And I fell asleep in his arms, content.
Now I look at my Master's face with a hunger I need no longer
conceal. He sleeps next to me, drawn and exhausted. I wonder at
the toll this has taken. So much discovered in a day; so much
nearly lost, and so much found. I will not go into an uncertain
future without him. There has been too much avoidance, too
little revelation. My heart is open to his, and I will not
settle for any less than what he promised as he kissed away my
pain. There is a way for us to remain together; there must be,
and I will find it. I will persuade him again, as I have
before.
And I will once again step between my Master and a destiny I
cannot accept.
End.
7/15/99
Should there be a sequel? Please send me your thoughts.
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