Down

by Ladonna King (lking@agora.rdrop.com)



Archive: M_A if you want it, and http://www.slashcity.com/ciceqi/Down.htm

Category: Angst, Q/O preslash, in a way...

Rating: err...G with a warning for graphic scenery and implied m/m subject.

Disclaimer: Aaaaall we are saaaaaaaying... / Is give Qui a chaaaaaaaaance... (apologies to Lucas and the Beatles)

Warnings: Yer standard Ladonna Nastication warning.

Spoilers: TPM for certain...that scene...conjecture for Eps II & III.

Summary: "I'm finding out what's left of you..."

Feedback: Would make me purr.

Notes: I can't sleep, I can't think, but I can type... Ryen gave me this song, "Down," by Gravity Kills...it's not quite songfic, but the lyrics are at the end, if you wanna know what I was listening to when I got the idea for this. It was going to be a snippet, until Leila insisted I fix things, so thank her if I manage to scrounge up a silver lining for this...



It was cold and it was dark, and it was the loneliest nightmare he'd ever dreamed. If he'd been left strictly alone, it might have been bearable, but the shadows of this dusk-lit cavern teased him with glimpses of faces in the shadows, the fading echoes of unfamiliar voices. Cries, mostly--screams and wracking sobs of grief, of piercing wounds that had no chance to heal. No chance, because they were dying, and dead, life pried from their clawing grips with a grey and chilly inevitability.

It wasn't what he'd been taught to expect. Wasn't anything like they'd told him it would be. He'd never had a need for heaven before, never managed to believe in hell, but this was hell indeed. And of all the spirits that writhed and fell into death around him, he alone of the neverending multitude did not fade. He alone had been condemned to this half-life, unable to return or drift away.

If he had been alone, and not known this, it might have been bearable.

Folded in the lotus position, he stared bleakly out into the gloom, watching the shadow-spirits flicker into brief, mournful life. A young man stumbled to his knees, arms flying up to cover his head, half of which had been shorn messily away. A heartbeat later, he was gone, a woman taking his place, her knees drawn up and spread wide as she braced her feet against the strain that trembled through her insubstantial being. Watching her pained grimace collapse into a rictus of horror, he turned away before her arms had quite encircled her gravid belly, closing his eyes against the hopelessness of it. So much suffering, and there wasn't a thing he could do for them. He couldn't even help himself.

A white-hot burst of agony ripped through him without warning, and when his hands flew to his middle, they came away bloody, slicked with the illusion of his life. The pain, as always, was horribly real, as if he was reliving his own mortal wound, over and over again. Another flaring convulsion shook his bones, as if someone was pulling on his guts like a leash or tugging a lit 'saber through cauterized flesh, and he bent over his folded legs, clenching his teeth on a scream.

//Oh please...not again, please no,// wavered helplessly through his scattered thoughts, but there was no one to appeal to, no power left in his trembling hands. There was only the pain in an endless, unpredictable cycle, eating away at the fragile peace he'd made with his fate.

"Please," he breathed, the last remnants of his hope slipping away from him as he reached out to empty air, pleading for the shadows to swallow him up.

Like a silken rope set suddenly alight, something came into being where his bloody hands touched, a thick cord that leaked from his chest and stretched far beyond the limits of his sight. His blood was the dye that crept swiftly along its length, making the invisible substantial as it dripped from his hands and the terrible wound in his body. His blood and his pain, revealing a tie that was stronger than death. His hands shook as he stared at what they had wrought, but his hesitation lasted a bare heartbeat before he reached out more firmly and took hold of the rope.

With a wrenching spin of vertigo, he found himself somewhere else, on his knees in a room infinitely familiar. He knew the spill of light from the single tall window, knew the shadows of the bed along the far wall, knew the incongruous presence of the thrashing body tangled in the sheets. His room...this had been his room, though it looked slightly different now--and the old wooden chest in the corner still felt of him, as if a piece of himself had been left behind and kept hidden away, cherished.

The ragged moan from the bed shivered along his spine with cold fingers of broken glass, tearing him with an agony sharper than any wound. Jerking against unseen restraints, the dreamer's lean body tensed and shuddered, the sheen of tears on pale cheeks glimmering in the wan glow from the window. "Obi-Wan," he whispered, struggling to his feet, but his voice was cobweb-thin, falling into the stillness of night without an echo.

"Padawan," he tried again, crossing slowly to the bed and reaching out with hope burning his lungs. If he could have this chance, this one chance to say all that he'd let go to his death unspoken... "Please..."

As if from an unimaginable distance, he watched his hand stretch out, a white shadow in the gloom as he leaned over the dreaming form. His fingers trembled with a trepidation he couldn't quite feel, though he knew he was shaking, his weightless body thrumming at a fever-pitch. So close...if he could just touch, he could make everything right between them, all of it, all... Gently, as if his Padawan were spun crystal, he cupped his palm around Obi-Wan's cheek, where it had rested in that last brief moment...

...and Obi-Wan's dreams flooded him, a grim tide of panic and grief and longing, choking him where he stood. Obi-Wan was dreaming of him, of watching the fight, watching him die, and it was the most bitter jest of all when he felt the Sith's lightsaber skewer him once more. Staggering, he slumped to the bed, strangely unwilling to snatch his hand away and give up even this devastating contact. He understood...he understood everything.

It was Obi-Wan...Obi-Wan's nightmares that kept him in such torment, Obi-Wan's fears that orchestrated his pain, all unknowing. The blood-soaked cord that had drawn him here had once been brilliant white, a bond unacknowledged while he bided his time, arrogantly certain he would have all the time in the world to explore its depths when Obi-Wan was ready. Infinitely stronger than the training bond, it had turned like a viper in his hand, because this, this unfinished need, was what had kept him here, chained to Obi-Wan's side. Where he had always wanted to be, but not like this...Force, not like this...

Agony beat him down until he was hunched over Obi-Wan's sleeping body, holding his insides in as the dream took a turn for the worse. He saw himself in Obi-Wan's arms once more, making Obi-Wan promise, making him promise...his eyes so far from his Padawan, mind focused on the boy, the Chosen One, the loved one...

//No!// he tried to protest as his shocked eyes flew open, but Obi-Wan's silent, miserable face was still leaking tears, oblivious to his Master's horror. Obi-Wan was crying in his mind, telling Qui-Gon he was loved, that he couldn't go, couldn't leave, not this time--//Please, Master, I love you, don't leave me//--but the dream-Qui-Gon only demanded that damning promise, again and again and--

"No!" Obi-Wan screamed as he woke, jerking upright as he grabbed for the figure of his dream, the false Master who had slipped away again, as always. Qui-Gon felt his spirit waver as Obi-Wan's body passed through him, wide, unseeing eyes fixed on the darkness of Qui-Gon's room. It was more than he could bear, but if he could just make Obi-Wan see...

"Master?" a soft, scared voice called from what had been Obi-Wan's room, and Qui-Gon watched with a rising feeling of panic and nausea as Obi-Wan's face went dead, every emotion cut out of his heart and shunted aside the instant he heard Anakin's voice. This was no Jedi calm, nothing like serenity--this was a man gutting his feelings, crippling his spirit to protect another.

"It's all right, Ani," Obi-Wan called back, his perfectly calm voice betraying not a hint of the palsied shaking of Obi-Wan's limbs, the tears drying silently on his face. "It was just a dream. I'm sorry I woke you."

Something in Qui-Gon felt a rumor of uncertainty, and he wondered suddenly why it had never occurred to him that neither he nor Obi-Wan would ever be able to form a bond with an outsider and not share it with the other. They should both have been training this child...both of them, together in all things. He'd made such a terrible, terrible mistake...

Obi-Wan felt the flicker of Anakin's hesitancy as well, must have known Anakin was about to offer some form of childish comfort, perhaps from experience. He must have this dream...often. "I'm fine, Anakin," Obi-Wan said firmly, though his voice was softer, as if he didn't quite dare to speak the lie aloud. "Go back to sleep."

As if taking his own advice, Obi-Wan lay back against the pillows, his arms folded across his chest--but his eyes stayed open, staring up at the ceiling as he firmed his shields to adamantine walls, unbreachably thick. Laying a hand on Obi-Wan's arm, even Qui-Gon found it hard to sense him, and he was fading now that Obi-Wan was awake, slowly but surely... His Padawan looked terrible, too thin by far and with a frighteningly brittle exhaustion creeping at the edges of haunted eyes. The dreams and the grief were wearing Obi-Wan down, but it was the doubts swarming beneath that once-confident surface that truly gave Qui-Gon pause, doubts he had thought long erased.

"Obi-Wan," he said intently, "I'm right here...open your eyes, Padawan...see me..." Dismayed, he watched the tears start again, though Obi-Wan's expression never changed, and that frightened him more than anything. "Obi-Wan...Obi-Wan, please, listen to me--Obi-Wan!"

He was being ripped away, and with those staggeringly thorough shields up, he had nothing to hold on to, not even grief...

One flash broke through his raging attempt at communication before he went, but it was from Anakin, not Obi-Wan. The boy was curled into a tight ball, staring blindly at the door as if praying that someone would come as he remembered his own dreams, night after night of them--of being in Qui-Gon's place as a cloaked Sith struck him down, his pale Jedi uniform slicked with his own blood...

And of a snarling young Jedi attacking a black-robed Sith, and the Sith was Anakin himself. Over and over again, the boy dreamed of death, of being killed by the enemy, of being the enemy and killed, and his teacher's protective shields were too strong and too thick to sense the boy's stark terror. Qui-Gon knew it was kindly meant, but this was wrong, so very wrong...

And he was helpless in the face of it.




The man meditating beneath the window was a shadow of the boy Qui-Gon had known. He'd watched haunted blue eyes turn hunted, defiance turning slowly to defensiveness, though little of it showed on the surface. Perhaps it was merely that no one wanted to see. Just like no one could see the gaping wounds of the spirit Obi-Wan bore even now, wounds that were reflected in Qui-Gon's body. He could bear the physical pain easily enough--could have taken far worse for Obi-Wan's sake--but watching this slow disintegration of the man he loved was tearing him apart. If only Obi-Wan could hear him, know he was there and listen to what he had to say...

//There is no emotion; there is peace,// floated through Obi-Wan's strained calm, and Qui-Gon wept to hear that tone of bitter irony in his apprentice's mental voice. Leaning forward, his knees touching Obi-Wan's as he mirrored the other's meditative posture, he tried again to make contact with his Padawan, unable to give up on the fruitless exercise even now.

"Obi-Wan..." he murmured, cupping Obi-Wan's face in both hands. "Please. I know some part of you doesn't want to hear me...but please. I'm right here, beloved...and there are so many things I want you to hear, so many things I should have told you before. Please, Padawan...let me in this time...please..."

//There is no ignorance; there is knowledge,// Obi-Wan sighed, unable to feel the ghostly thumb that stroked his lips, the fingers that traced the frowning arch of his brows. Not even a tremor of awareness met Qui-Gon's questing probe, only a granite sorrow no amount of time had been able to erase.

//There is no passion--//

"There is love," suggested a voice at the doorway, followed by a shy, "Master."

For one brief instant, when Obi-Wan opened his eyes, Qui-Gon could almost pretend the other man had met Qui-Gon's stare at last. Then the frown deepened, and Qui-Gon had to release the fantasy, knowing that Obi-Wan merely looked right through him to Anakin beyond. "Rewriting the Code, Padawan?" Obi-Wan smiled gently, and it was still strange to hear that word from Obi-Wan's lips, even though he had been the cause of it.

"Maybe it's time someone did," Anakin shrugged, stepping into the room when Obi-Wan didn't immediately send him away. Anakin had grown into a beautiful young man, his blond hair still the color of new-minted gold, and his braid already trailed halfway down his chest. In so many ways, Anakin should have reminded Qui-Gon of Obi-Wan at sixteen, but there was as little resemblance as humanly possible in the two. At sixteen, Obi-Wan had begun to blossom in earnest, losing his doubts and fears--of rejection, of unworthiness--under Qui-Gon's patient care. He had been spreading his wings, his company a delight to all, and no one had begrudged him his successes, no matter how much they disapproved of his Master.

Anakin was diffident where Obi-Wan had been bold, and though his brilliance was unquestioned, Anakin hung back from notice, retiring to a fault. Outwardly, it looked like simple modesty, but Qui-Gon could read the truth of it without trying. It was fear, built on the same doubts Obi-Wan had been plagued with, only these hadn't gone away when Anakin had found a Master. Anakin's Master, though Obi-Wan had tried with all the heart he had left in him, was half the problem.

Still smiling, Obi-Wan unfolded himself and stood, absently brushing the creases out of his loose pants. "Well," Obi-Wan allowed, "perhaps love does belong in the Code. I don't say it belongs there, mind you..."

"Why not?" Anakin challenged with a faint grin, ducking his head. "Even if you don't feel passion for someone, you can still feel love, can't you, Master?"

"What you can do isn't the point," Obi-Wan shook his head. "It's what you should do. Passion blinds you...just as love can, Ani. Only through serenity can you be truly free of the Dark."

"But love can be a light against the Dark, Master," Anakin swallowed, looking very much as if he was taking his courage in both hands by saying what should have been plain to them both. "And serenity...seems highly overrated."

Obi-Wan laughed out loud, and though it was a wan sound compared to the bright rattle of mirth that had been music to Qui-Gon's ears, it was at least heartfelt. "You talk like a man in love, Padawan," Obi-Wan grinned at his student, and time seemed to stop dead as Qui-Gon realized what was coming. Rising to his feet as if he could avert the disaster ahead, all he could do was watch as Anakin nodded once, far too seriously, his eyes fixed on Obi-Wan.

"I am."

Qui-Gon had to give Obi-Wan credit--Obi-Wan made no attempt to misunderstand Anakin's words. His lashes fluttering as if he'd been slapped, Obi-Wan swallowed once, his calm expression slipping only slightly. "I thought you and Amidala had...an understanding," he said slowly, acute misery in his eyes.

"She's not you," Anakin replied simply, his heart in his quiet words.

"Anakin..."

"Master," Anakin broke in swiftly, "give me a chance. That's all. I only want to make you happy..."

"You have, Ani," Obi-Wan told him honestly, the words coming easily to his tongue. Any other time, Anakin might have flushed with pleasure, but a deaf man could hear the refusal they led up to, and Anakin's face was turning slowly paler, the hurt in his eyes all-consuming. "The only moments of happiness I've known in the last seven years have come from teaching you. But you're my Padawan, Ani--"

"No," Anakin said forcefully, and Obi-Wan looked briefly taken aback. Qui-Gon could read the sudden despair in Obi-Wan's heart, wondering if Anakin would repudiate him as a Master, then wondering if it mightn't be best for Anakin's sake. Wrong, wrong, Qui-Gon wanted to cry, but he was a mute, unnoticed audience, powerless and shamed that he had failed Obi-Wan so completely. "Tell me you don't love me," Anakin growled fiercely, "tell me you don't want me. But don't throw that excuse in my face."

"It's not an excuse," Obi-Wan frowned, rallying wearily.

"The hell it isn't!" Anakin cried, his white face strained. "Seven years, Master--and you've never once done anything Master Jinn didn't do before you, because you're too afraid of challenging his memory to risk it!"

"That's enough, Anakin," Obi-Wan snapped, his voice gone dangerously flat, though his eyes radiated a hell of agony. The worst of it was, Qui-Gon thought Anakin just might be right.

"No, that's just it--it's not enough. You're not him, Master! You're not him, and I'm not you. I can't be you. I can't stand here and--and feel this way about you, and see you hurting like this, and not do something." The raw pleading in the young man's voice would have cracked a lesser control. Unselfishly, Qui-Gon mourned the strength of Obi-Wan's armor as his beloved shook his head, defeat in the slump of broad shoulders.

"There's nothing you can do, Ani," Obi-Wan said quietly. "When the most important thing in your life dies in your arms...it tends to make an impression."

Anakin flinched, his expression shuttering instantly. "The most important thing," he repeated slowly, pain bleeding through the coldness in his voice.

Obi-Wan's face collapsed into woe as he realized just what he had said, but there was no taking it back, not without lying. "Anakin--"

"Stay in your shrine, Master," Anakin sneered, eyes narrowed against tears. "I'll leave you to your ghosts."

Shocked into silence, Obi-Wan stared after his Padawan as Anakin stalked out, numbly watching the young man walk away from him. It took forever before he moved again, and it was only to the bed, where he collapsed like an old, old man at its edge, still staring after Anakin. "Oh Force..." Obi-Wan breathed, voice thick with grief and regret. Closing his eyes, he whispered, "If I had ghosts, Ani, it wouldn't hurt so fucking much."

Dropping his head into his hands, Obi-Wan pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, willing himself to calm once more. Sinking to the floor, he folded his legs in the lotus position, but it was a long time before he could straighten and begin his meditations again, and his face was wet with tears.

//There is no emotion; there is peace,// Obi-Wan insisted desperately, his breathing refusing to calm, heart twisting inside him. //There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no passion...there is serenity. There is no death...//

He couldn't go on. Bowed over his legs, Obi-Wan covered his head with his arms, a ragged keen trapped in his throat. //You're wrong, Ani,// Qui-Gon heard him groan, //you are me. And I am...him. I don't love you...and he would never have wanted me, either. He never did.//

Dropping to his knees, Qui-Gon reached out for Obi-Wan one more time, his horror boundless. //Oh, my poor love...// he grieved silently, wishing the arms he gathered Obi-Wan into were real, more than he ever had before. This was what kept Obi-Wan from hearing his Master's voice, this fundamental belief in his own worthlessness, that he had been unloved at the end by the one man he cared for with all his heart. Obi-Wan could believe anything but that Qui-Gon would return to him. All his fault... //What did I do to you?//

Between them, they had gutted Anakin...but he was killing Obi-Wan, he could feel it in his bones.

His own death had been cleaner by far.




They were still dying all around him. The Jedi, across a thousand worlds, falling beneath the fury of the Empire. That first blistering shock had been the worst, a deafening scream torn from countless throats as the grey plains of transition were devoured by flames. Only flames, wailing columns of fire, because there was nothing left of them but the heat of their passing. He had wept then, though he had thought he'd forgotten how...but when he looked for it again, that bloody rope that tied him to the world of the living was still there, still strong, and he'd known the worst was yet to come.

Helpless, Qui-Gon had watched Obi-Wan struggle to find some place to defend, his own grief subsumed in the need to help his fellows. For a few hopeful months, Qui-Gon had seen the emergence of the Jedi he'd always known was in Obi-Wan, a strong and fearless man who could make the very planets dance to his whim. So long as there was someone else who needed his help, Obi-Wan was a bastion of solid will, unswerving in his purpose.

Until one by one, they all died and left him alone again, broken, sick at heart, eaten alive by exhaustion and defeat. His own Padawan was long gone, turned to the Dark as Qui-Gon's had before him, one more bitterly ironic twist of Fate that had the taste of a coup de grace in its impersonal malice. Obi-Wan had been there when Amidala breathed her last, delivering her children into his care, and Obi-Wan had gotten them to safety as best as he could.

The daughter had been swiftly coronated and sent to Alderaan, one of the few remaining pockets of peace in the new Empire, but the son had gone with Obi-Wan into hiding, until Obi-Wan could no longer trust himself to care for the boy. He was too tired, too dangerous to be around, too uncertain of his own heart and his ability to raise a child in the Light. Had he been able to, Qui-Gon would have insisted Obi-Wan keep the boy close--Luke was the sole brightness left in Obi-Wan's life, the one thing that could drag him out of his despair. Luke was as sensitive as his father had been, but though the child had to find the feeling of Obi-Wan's sorrow oppressive, the boy loved Obi-Wan anyway, lifting Obi-Wan's heart with his generous adoration. Obi-Wan was impossible not to love...and Qui-Gon should have told him so, years ago.

Watching the dying bleed in and out of the grey, Qui-Gon lifted his head sharply as he felt a different sort of tugging at the bond that connected him to Obi-Wan. Troubled, he rose and stared around him, one hand covering his chest as if to shield that uncanny cord from sight. It was almost as if...as if he were being pulled at a right angle from the direction he was used to going. On the one hand, it felt like Obi-Wan...but it was as if Obi-Wan had...moved...

//No,// he snapped, shoving the suspicion that had crept up on him away, but it was far too late for that. There was a figure taking shape just before him, a man settled into a peaceful position of meditation and whose outline became more and more clear the slower his heart beat. It was an old, old trick, throwing your body into a kind of hibernation, but this man was taking it further, taking the last, irrevocable resort when trapped in an insupportable position.

Obi-Wan hadn't looked so truly serene in over a decade.

He couldn't let it happen, not like this... Sinking to his knees before his Padawan, Qui-Gon cupped this tired man's face in both hands, steeling himself for disappointment--

--and was nearly crushed by relief when Obi-Wan's eyes flew open, fixing on his in utter shock.

"Obi-Wan," he breathed, feeling the prick of tears in his eyes as Obi-Wan's jaw dropped silently, hope and guilt and shame chasing themselves across Obi-Wan's face.

"M-master?" Obi-Wan whispered hesitantly, and before Obi-Wan could flee or wake, Qui-Gon pulled him into a desperate embrace, holding on painfully tight. A bare heartbeat later, Obi-Wan melted into his touch, hugging back just as hard and sobbing helplessly into his Master's neck.

"Shh," Qui-Gon murmured against the silken hair he remembered so well, stroking his hands down Obi-Wan's back. "I'm here, Padawan...I've always been here..."

"No," Obi-Wan protested, but Qui-Gon silenced him with a kiss at his temple, the simple caress leaving Obi-Wan rigid with surprise.

"Yes. I've always been with you. You just couldn't let yourself see," Qui-Gon explained softly, pulling back to take Obi-Wan's face in his hands once more. Meeting the other man's troubled stare without flinching, Qui-Gon smiled, "How could I leave you when we're still bonded?"

Eyes wide, Obi-Wan only stared at him until he closed his eyes, feeling the connection between them and opening it wide, pouring all his love into it. Obi-Wan's choked gasp made him open his eyes again, meeting Obi-Wan's with a calmness he didn't entirely feel. "And that too is for always," he promised quietly, but Obi-Wan shook his head, his expression collapsing into woe once more.

"This is a dream," he said dully, staring at Qui-Gon from across a gulf of misery. "You're not...not real..."

"You're dying," Qui-Gon insisted bluntly. "You don't have time to dream. If you weren't more here than alive, I'd still be trying to reach you and getting ignored by my own Padawan--and this is very real," he added, the intensity of his voice silencing Obi-Wan again. "I can't let you do this to yourself, Obi-Wan...I'll be paying for my other mistakes for years yet, but not this one, not this time. You still have a life, a purpose--don't throw it away, Padawan. Please."

"Is this my punishment, then?" Obi-Wan smiled weakly, eyes dark. The smile meant nothing--Qui-Gon could tell that Obi-Wan meant what he said, the idea that his Master had come to take him to task for his failures infinitely easier for Obi-Wan to believe than that anyone would care whether he lived or died except to hurry him on to the latter.

"No," Qui-Gon growled. "It's mine. Because I'm selfish enough to want you with me forever, but I have to wait. Do you understand me? I want you. I love you. I always have. But I'm a fool, and you had to pay for that, and...I can't possibly tell you just how sorry I am for that. If I had it to do over again, I'd have told you this long since, Obi-Wan...you were the most important thing in my life. And I was the greatest fool of all for assuming you would know no matter what I did."

"Master..." Obi-Wan wanted to believe, even if he thought it was just a last comfort before dying, but Qui-Gon knew that wouldn't be enough to send him back into the world of the living.

"Live, Obi-Wan," he demanded, leaning closer. "Live, and believe in me, and I'll never leave you alone again. I promise."

And then he closed the gap between them, covering Obi-Wan's lips with his own, their first kiss sweet and gentle and almost chaste, until Obi-Wan surged into his embrace, opening beneath him with a faint whimper of need. Then it was fire, the heat of it sinking into his bones and setting him alight. It was all he had wanted for so long, and letting go was going to destroy him...but the certainty that this was not Obi-Wan's time was a gut-deep humming along his senses, and he knew it would be worth anything to see this beautiful, beloved man back into the arms of the living. No matter how much it hurt.

"Do you trust me?" he whispered breathlessly as he pulled away, and though Obi-Wan's eyes were wild and frantic, he saw nothing but that trust looking back at him, as unspoken and strong as ever. "Then go back, Obi-Wan...go back and listen for me, and I'll be there. You'll never be alone again."

"Why can't I stay?" Obi-Wan asked, but there was no argument there, only grief.

"Because you're more important than you could possibly know," Qui-Gon smiled fondly back, letting all his pride show in his voice. Obi-Wan shook his head again, but Qui-Gon knew he would go, just as he'd always known his Padawan would do anything for him, no matter how difficult. Even live. "Remember, Obi-Wan. Remember that I love you."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan swallowed, and there was time for one more lingering glance before Qui-Gon found himself alone again in the grey, his arms empty.

//Remember,// he prayed silently, his heart pulling taut within his chest, dreading Obi-Wan's waking with a fear that no longer surprised him. He couldn't go through this again...not after he'd finally touched his beloved, not after that... If Obi-Wan still didn't believe and shut him out...

He felt a twinging in his chest, a tangled knot of emotions vibrating through their bond that left him shaking with the force of that summons. Rising, he stared blindly across the grey for a long moment, unable to believe what he sensed...

And then he was traveling swift as thought to his beloved's side, the impression of open arms a beacon of welcome to guide him.

***
end
***

Down - Gravity Kills

I'm your fear, I'm your monster
What's hiding in your shadow?  Is it taking what's left of you?
Now take me, now lead me from you
Now take me from the light that's dying in your eye
I'm finding out what's left of you, you're burning out
What's left of you?  Choking on doubt, you're choking
Way down, way down now, what's left of you?

See no fear, speak no evil
Are you screaming out to no one as you fall down a mountain of pride?
I feel you, my eyes wide open 
I feel you, do you think you can save yourself in time? 
I'm finding out what's left of you, you're burning out 
What's left of you?  Choking on doubt, you're choking
Way down, way down now, what's left of you?

What you see, what tears into you
Behind the wheel that leads you, are you facing a truth that won't
die? 
Now take me, now lead me from you 
Now take me from the light that's dying in your eye 
I'm finding out what's left of you, 
I'm finding out what's left of you 
You're burning out what's left of you, you're king of doubt, 
You're choking, way down, way down now, what's left of you 
What's left of you, you're burning out, what's left of you 
Choking on doubt, you're choking 
Way down, way down now, what's left of you?