The dim light of dusk had faded into the darkness of true
night, the hour of evening meal long past before a weary
Obi-Wan returned to his rooms.
Qui-Gon paused momentarily as the other man entered, questions
apparent in his glance. Bare chested and footed, the Jedi
Master was seated on the floor, one long leg stretched out
before him as he went through a series of simple stretches. The
silver fall of his hair had come loose, tumbling over his
shoulders and falling in a veil across his eyes as he resumed
motion, leaning forward, muscle and scars rippling across his
back.
Obi-Wan seated himself heavily on the couch, reaching down to
unfasten his boots as he watched the older man. Blue eyes were
half closed, breath flowing shallow but steady through parted
lips. Deep meditation could, for a time, ease the frailities of
flesh; but the flush in the skin of lips and cheeks told a
different, more heartening story. Obi-Wan smiled gently,
watching as Qui-Gon shifted position and stretched back, chest
arching, breath exhaling with only a thin whisper of rasp
beneath it. Scars made a familiar pattern spread across ribs
that were too thin for the younger man's taste, pared down to
the stark lines of bone and sinew.
"You look better," he remarked, tugging off one boot and
letting it fall before tackling the other. Qui-Gon took a brief
breath and flowed upright, a sinuous movement that carried him
forward to his knees and from there, hands on the edge of the
couch to either side of the other man, leaning into his lover's
embrace.
"I feel better." Softer than the spoken word, slightly stronger
than a whisper, the words were husky and warm and accompanied
by a slow smile. "I rested," Qui-Gon added, the smile turning
impish, "all morning, and most of the afternoon."
Obi-Wan mustered the shadow of an answering smile. "Thank you,"
he whispered, brushing his thumb across the older man's lips.
Qui-Gon frowned at the gesture but Obi-Wan shook his head. "No.
You sound better, and I'm too tired to be strict about it.
Besides," he added, leaning forward to replace the touch of his
fingers with his own lips, "sometimes... I just like to hear
your voice."
Qui-Gon returned the kiss, then leaned back, looking at the
other man critically. "I might have said something stronger
than 'tired'," he offered. "The Council had a great deal to
say, then? No, don't tell me, unless it can't wait." When
Obi-Wan shook his head the Jedi Master climbed to his feet,
holding out a hand. "Good. I kept food warm, if you're hungry."
"'If'? Sith, I can't remember the last time I ate." Accepting
the hand up, Obi-Wan let his cloak slide back down to the
couch, stretching broadly.
"This morning," Qui-Gon prompted. "If you call a cup of tea and
a few bites of fruit a meal."
"It's all I seem to have time for lately," Obi-Wan sighed.
Qui-Gon pushed him towards the table. "Sit. You're about to
collapse."
The younger man did as ordered, murmuring thanks as first
drink, then food, were put in front of him. Bringing his own
plate to the table, Qui-Gon sat, watching his lover as they
both ate.
If aware of the scrutiny Obi-Wan said nothing. Not until the
last crumb had been chased from his plate and with a second cup
of sweet tea poured did he lean back, cup cradled between his
hands and a sigh on his lips.
"Better?" Qui-Gon asked with a smile, pushing his own half
eaten meal aside.
"Yes." Obi-Wan smiled wanly, resting his head against the high
back of his chair. "Thank you."
Qui-Gon waved it away, gaze fixing more firmly on the younger
Master. "Good. Now you can tell me what the Council wanted. And
Anakin too, other than to show off that new Padawan of his."
The smile fell from Obi-Wan's face and he slowly nodded, eyes
sliding away. The Jedi Master sat back, letting the other man
gather his thoughts, all the while noting the frown that
clouded his lover's brow and the characteristic tic along his
cheek as teeth worried at his inner lip.
It took Obi-Wan some time to answer and he didn't look up as he
said it, eyes fixed on the steaming contents of the cup he
turned between his fingers. "What would you think if I were to
take a Padawan?"
A flicker of surprise touched the older man's face but he hid
it well, leaning back in his chair, a smile hovering at his
lips. "Why? Feeling inspired by young Solo?"
"Who?" Startled, Obi-Wan looked up, then ruefully shook his
head. "Oh, Ani's boy. No. The Council..."
Qui-Gon made a sharp noise of displeasure, cutting him off.
Coughing slightly, the older man reached for his tea, silver
brows drawn down sharply into a thunderous frown. [Again? Will
they not leave it be?]
Obi-Wan dropped his gaze, jaw tightening. "No. It's not that.
Master Yoda, at least, has more sense than that. I will not
take up active duty again... not unless the circumstances are
truly remarkable."
The older man studied him for a moment above the rim of his
cup, then slowly lowered it back to the table. [Which they
are,] he stated, silently prompting.
Sighing, Obi-Wan closed his eyes, nodding slightly. "I haven't
answered them yet," he assured quickly. "I wouldn't, not before
speaking to you. But..."
"It is your choice," Qui-Gon said gruffly. The frown
still marred his brow but he tried to soften his words. "Choose
as you will, love. Your reasons must be your own."
"No," Obi-Wan replied firmly, glancing up. "It affects us both.
Truly, Qui-Gon, tell me what you think."
It was the older man's turn to drop his gaze, fingertips
sliding over and around the tabletop near his cup as he
thought. "When?" he asked at last. "Now? Next season?"
Obi-Wan let out a breath. "No. No, it wouldn't be for some
years yet."
Qui-Gon paused, the frown fading away. His eyes, when he looked
up, were clouded. "Obi-Wan," he whispered gently, "in 'some
years' I very much doubt my opinion will matter at all."
The younger man flinched violently, lips pressed thin.
"Don't."
Reaching out, Qui-Gon caught his hand, twining their fingers
together. Obi-Wan returned the grip almost painfully tight,
white knuckled. "Hush," he whispered soothingly. [I know you do
not like to hear it, love. But truth is truth.]
"Don't," Obi-Wan repeated, but the word held less force. His
expression was weary, an ungaurded fatigue that cut clear to
his bones, sunk deep into the lines of face and eyes. "Let me
have my dreams."
Qui-Gon pressed his hand firmly. [We will dream together,] he
promised, the words echoing between them with love and comfort.
[Forever.]
It took Obi-Wan a noticeable moment to center himself again, to
take a breath and release it slowly. "Yes," he whispered,
nodding. Giving himself a small shake, he sat up straighter,
though he did not release their hands. "Even if it were now...
tell me your opinion."
Qui-Gon nodded, allowing the change of mood. "Tell me what
makes this remarkable enough that you would consider it," he
asked in lieu of answer.
A weary but genuine smile touched Obi-Wan's lips. "Surely you
can guess," he challenged with forced lightness. When Qui-Gon
only raised one silver brow in answer the younger man tilted
his head slightly. "Skywalker."
The older man sat up abruptly, shoulders straightening. [The
twins?]
Obi-Wan nodded. Both Jedi Masters had been there at the birth
of Anakin's children - Obi-Wan remembered, vividly, the picture
of Qui-Gon, one tiny babe cradled in the crook of each arm,
hair cascading down across his shoulder as he bent over them,
murmurring wordless warmth. Now, the Jedi Master's expression
clouded, lips pressing thin and brows drawing down. "They would
have you take them as Padawan? How? Both together..."
The younger man shook his head, reaching up with his free hand
to tug the tie from his graying hair and shake it free,
massaging the base of his neck. "No. Not together."
"But they are to come to the Temple, then?" Qui-Gon pressed.
Obi-Wan hesitated again, tongue pressed against his teeth.
"Yes," he said at last, but though it was no lie - they had
never spoken falsehoods to each other - it was also not nearly
all of the answer. Qui-Gon waited, his frown increasing.
It was a few moments before Obi-Wan, with a small sigh,
continued speaking. "Amidala will allow one of them to come to
the Temple. The other will stay with her on Naboo."
His lover let his breath out slowly, expression clearing
slightly. "Anakin...?"
"Has already argued it with her," Obi-Wan admitted, brow
furrowed. Qui-Gon silently squeezed his hand, a reassuring
pressure. "She won't be swayed." He glanced sidelong at the
other man. "That's what he wanted to speak of this morning."
The older man's lips twitched slightly. "Which you thought I
ought not hear..." Seeing Obi-Wan's expression harden, he shook
his head. "No. We'll speak of that later. Tell me the rest
now."
Obi-Wan sighed. "The Council isn't pleased..."
"I can't imagine they would be," Qui-Gon interjected grimly,
but fell silent at Obi-Wan's exasperated glance.
"And well they shouldn't! Qui-Gon, the twins would be the
strongest Knights the Temple has seen since the Wars..."
"The twins," Qui-Gon said firmly, voice rasping, "are the
children of the Queen of Naboo. Amidala has the right to refuse
one or both of her heir-elects to the Temple."
Pulling his hand away, Obi-Wan sank back in his chair, fingers
drumming on the tabletop. "I know. But that strong in the
Force... they should be trained. Both of them."
Refilling his cup, Qui-Gon shook his head. [Anakin can see them
trained, enough to make them safe. He'll enjoy the excuse to
visit Naboo more often.]
A small, mirthless smile tugged at Obi-Wan's lips. "That's what
he told the Council."
[There, then. You see?] Qui-Gon downed half the cup of tea, a
frown still darkening his brow. "The twins... how bonded are
they?"
Obi-Wan snorted slightly. "Anakin didn't want to say. Born in
the same hour, always together? That strong in the Force? I
think it's a miracle they've bothered to learn to speak at
all."
Qui-Gon nodded slowly, cup held to his lips as he inhaled the
fragrant steam. [The Council is being foolish,] he said
bluntly. [They're desperate - we all are - but separating the
twins is the wisest choice. Amidala knows what she's doing.
That bonded... we could try to separate them in the creche but
it would never be enough. They'd grow dependant on each other.
Better to train one strong then both weak.]
The other man was silent for a time, fingers drumming
relentlessly as he thought, but eventually he nodded slowly.
"You're right, of course. The Council knows it as well, or they
would have insisted more strongly." He sighed, raking a hand
through his hair. "Amidala has promised to send one twin to the
Temple by next year. The Council wants my promise to be closely
involved with the training."
The Jedi Master nodded, sipping his tea. [What will you tell
them?]
Obi-Wan groaned softly, scrubbing his hands over his face.
"What else can I tell them? Yes, of course. These are Anakin's
children we're talking about, not some strangers. They're
practically my grandchildren."
"Good," Qui-Gon breathed, approving. "The twins. Has Amidala
decided which to make her heir?"
"Yes." Obi-Wan shifted tiredly, reaching forward to take his
lover's hand again, fingers curling tightly together. "Yes,
Luke will be heir-elect to the Naboo throne. I'll train Leia."
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