Challenge: My answer to Ruth's Wedding Challenge ... in which
Qui-Gon encounters moral rectitude but not, sadly, fig
biscuits.
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns them. We play with them.
Feedback: This is my first story. As Audrey II said, "Feed me,
Seymour."
Notes: Thanks to my splendid beta-reader, Liz B
There were enough said at our Ben's wedding ... (to be
pronounced in lugubrious Lancastrian tones...)
It wasn't so much the size of Obi-Wan's Aunt Ada that that
unnerved Qui-Gon - or her force signature for that matter. No,
it was the piercing gaze that travelled round his quarters,
missing nothing. It caught the layer of dust on the picture
rail, the grubby cushion covers that graced his favourite chair
and the collection of unwashed teacups that decorated many of
the working surfaces. Qui-Gon felt ... crumpled.
"Pleased to meet you, I'm sure." She sat down with the
expression of a woman who has had all of her misgivings
confirmed. An uneasy silence descended. Obi-Wan was wearing his
best metabunny-caught-in-the-headlights -of-a-speeder
expression and had clearly shut down for the duration of this
interview. He stood just inside the door as if ready to run for
his life.
Qui-Gon drew upon decades of diplomatic experience. "How was
your journey? Not too difficult, I hope?"
"If you ignore the fact that the luggage went to Deva and the
whole party missed the connection on Alderaan; it was as well
as could be expected. We've already complained to the
authorities. How these shipping companies get away with it year
after year is beyond my comprehension."
"Yes, a cross we all have to bear, I'm afraid. I remember being
stranded on Maldive 3 for a considerable period due to a
maintenance dispute.." He was rewarded by a flicker of warmth
in the eyes of his beloved who was clearly recalling a moonlit
night on the side of a volcano; the heat of the black sand
beneath his back, the soft melody drifting up from the
settlement below, the firm rhythmic... "I do beg your pardon,
really - you were saying?"
"I was saying," She was a woman drawing on bottomless reserves
of patience in the face of male inadequacy, "if you'll let me
know the nature of the arrangements over the next couple of
days, I can make a start at getting the family organised."
"Ah, yes, of course ..." He began to search his desk. "Are the
family comfortable?"
"Well, I speak as I find, Mr Jinn. The rooms in themselves are
adequate but the staff appear to be strangers to the automatic
cleaning equipment. I can only assume there is a shortage of
polish on Coruscant. Still, I daresay those in charge have
their minds on higher things."
"Qui-Gon, please. I'm so sorry to hear that." The rustling of
paper grew more desperate as the timetable proved elusive.
"I'll have a word with the Domestic Bursar."
Obi-Wan sidled over and pulled it from beneath a split packet
of chocolate Hob-nobs. He smiled and Qui-Gon could sense slowly
building hysteria.
//A united front in the face of the enemy?//
//Oh, yes.//
"Yes, well, I owe it to Ben's dear mother to make sure this is
all done properly." She pursed her lips and eyed the paper with
disapproval. "Now then, I've no time to lounge around here
indulging in idle chit-chat when there's work to be done. I'll
be seeing you to introduce the family at 7.30 sharp in the
lower reception room, Mr Jinn. Good day to you." She rose to
her feet and sailed out of the door. "Come along, young man.
We've a goat to buy." Obi-Wan flinched and was sucked along in
her wake.
Qui-Gon glanced around his room with new eyes. Cheerful plans
for further naked activities with his betrothed shrivelled, to
be replaced by a sense of impending doom. He went to look for a
duster.
Qui-Gon lay back in his bed. All in all, the evening had not
turned out too badly. He had even managed a few words with
Obi-Wan before he was swept back into the ample bosom of his
family.
Obi's relations had proved to be an interesting collection.
Mostly aunts - large women with tongues like razor blades,
honed by years devoted to the paths of righteousness and
domestic efficiency. There were some female cousins: thoroughly
married, apart from poor harried Dido ("Unwed and likely to
remain so...") who ended the evening sobbing in an adjoining
room. Then there were the men. Short, solid and uncomfortable
away from their working clothes, they tended to form
conspiratorial groups against the women. Qui-Gon tried and
failed to fit Obi-Wan into this context. How had someone so
dazzling emerged from this gene pool?
Yoda had, of course, gate crashed the gathering, to consume
most of the tastiest morsels and engage Great Uncle Cid in a
long conversation about racing form. They had disappeared
together much later, off to see a man about a dog. The
gathering had finished at a respectable hour and Qui-Gon had
returned, alone to his quarters.
The bed was lumpy, cold and much too large. His feet were
frozen and the night stretched off into infinity. Obi-Wan was
sleeping in the guest accommodation with his family. The aunts
were firmly of the opinion that he and Qui-Gon should observe
the proprieties. Even if they had put the cart before the
horse, there was no call to advertise the fact. Qui-Gon sighed,
thumped the pillow and thought about spending a few hours
devoted to work and stern duty.
Ah ... on second thoughts. A few minutes later, the universe
had taken on a warmer hue, the bed was again a place of ease
and comfort and a very warm body was burrowing as close as it
was possible to be without coming out the other side.
"I'd like to elope, please," came a muffled voice from the
region of his armpit.
"Obi, Obi, think of the scandal."
"Sithballs to the scandal." Obi-Wan surfaced. "I've got it all
planned. We sneak into the treasury, hack into the main Customs
and Excise Datasystem, divert a few billion credits (nothing
too outrageous) to a private numbered account, hotwire a
pleasure yacht and fly off to paradise. We can be hanging
upside down from a palm tree reaching new heights of ecstasy by
morning. What do you think?"
"Have you considered the goat?"
"What about the goat?"
"You would deprive that poor innocent creature of its shining
moment?"
"Oh. Damn. I hadn't thought of that. We'll just have to go
through with it then."
Qui-Gon didn't see very much of Obi-Wan after he crept back to
his temporary quarters next day. His beloved was doomed to
spend the day showing his family the sights of Coruscant from
the Great Tower of Black Pule to the Oubliettes of Shrenk. If
he survived that with his sanity intact, he had to attend the
surprise party organised by his dearest friends.
Meanwhile, Qui-Gon had his own skeletons to avoid. He skulked
in his own rooms for a while, reorganising his filing system,
then, when the walls began to close in, he took refuge with
Mace Windu.
"You know, there's absolutely no reason to believe he'll turn
up at your wedding." Windu leaned back in his chair, relaxed,
cool, authoritative. "Please stop picking the spines off that
cactus."
"No, no, this is just the sort of occasion he would choose."
Qui-Gon prowled around the room, occasionally running his
finger along a flat surface and gazing bitterly at the result.
"Qui-Gon, there's nothing in the latest intelligence. The last
reports had him leaving Mdrazi 4 in a hijacked freighter with
Hrunnable the Hutt's agents in hot pursuit. That was months
ago. They probably caught up with him and gave him his just
desserts. If he is still alive, he's probably far too busy
avoiding arrest warrants to turn up at a wedding. Even if it
does give him the opportunity to humiliate you in front of the
entire Temple and your new family. Have some more tea."
Qui-Gon glared and flung himself into a chair.
"It must be very embarrassing to have such a colourful
connection. I do sympathise. Really. It's just as well Obi-Wan
has never met him - he might be tempted to reconsider."
"Keep going, Mace, and I might regain my memory of that
incident on Dantooine."
"Anyway, in the spirit of friendship and because it makes me
feel good and noble, I'll have his description posted in the
Temple Guard Offices. That should do the trick."
"Only if they're awake. And sober."
Obi-Wan returned to their quarters much later for his party
clothes. He pressed a souvenir stick of rock into his master's
hand and kissed him on the nose as he rushed out of the door.
Qui-Gon eyed the sticky pink confection with distaste before
selecting an improving work by the Venerable Ezek of Crun-diah
with which to while away the empty hours until his return. He
settled against the cushions in his favourite armchair and
restrained himself from checking the com unit. A restless hour
later, he gave up and turned to the latest edition of the
weekly scandal sheet for details of who was sleeping with whom
at the highest levels of the Senate.
He awoke with a start as the first grimy light of a Coruscant
dawn drifted through the window on this, his wedding morning.
He became aware of a severe crick in his neck and a persistent
knocking at the door.
Obi-Wan had not come back.
He could not sense his presence anywhere within the confines of
the Temple.
The knocking increased in vigour. It was Aunt Ada, clothed in
moral rectitude and armed with a very sharp finger.
"Now then, I don't know how you usually carry on in this den of
iniquity, but I can guess. I'll have you know that I intend to
see this wedding is carried out decently if it's the last thing
I do. That young man is not going to bring shame and disgrace
upon the family with his loose behaviour while I'm on hand to
bring him to a sense of what's right and proper. If you don't
have him back in the family quarters, scrubbed and ready to
hear the first Sermon on Duty and Responsibility by 10.00 hours
I'll be down here to know the reason why. And for goodness
sake, smarten yourself up, man. Those clothes look as though
you've slept in them."
The door slammed shut.
Where the hell was Obi-Wan?
Baz Mrull had the misfortune to be the first to be found by
Qui-Gon. Still fully clothed, apart from one boot, which now
dangled from a light fitting, he sprawled in happy abandon
across his bed, snoring heroically and reeking of a night
handsomely spent. He opened one eye and smiled winningly at the
nice fuzzy gentleman who had come to visit.
"Hey, Qui-Gon. How're you doing?"
The world snapped back into focus like a piece of elastic.
"Um .. ah, s..sorry, Master Jinn. Is there anything I can do
for you?" He cast about frantically for his other boot while
simultaneously attempting to straighten his clothing. He fell
off the bed.
Qui-Gon restrained himself and kept it simple. "Where is
Obi-Wan?"
"Not with you?"
"Obviously not."
"With his folks? He said he had a bunch of sermons to sit
through..."
"No."
"Sorry...I don't have any other ideas."
"Cast your mind back."
"Well, um, you mean last night? Oh, it was a really great
night. I mean, we had to give him a good send-off, didn't we?
So we thought we'd visit every bar we had ever been into around
the Temple to er, say farewell. So, we started off at Murv's
then we went to the Pink Bantha then after that the Stoat and
Cucumber - we borrowed the stoat there, Obi-Wan wanted to set
it free - then it was the Flying Gribble. Ah, we were like, all
feeling pretty fine by then. Did you know that Obi could
balance five spoons on his nose, end to end? .... No, well,
perhaps not ... Anyway, there were a couple of others after
that and it was late and well ... To be honest, Master Jinn,
things are a bit confused after that."
"Think a little harder, Padawan Mrull."
"...?"
"Try, Padawan Mrull."
Mrull's brow wrinkled with the strain. Suddenly, it cleared.
"Oh! Wait a minute. Yes, we were in this bar and, and we
decided to grant him his final wish. Just to finish the
evening." He beamed, all of his brain cells now clearly flying
in tight formation. "He said he wanted to lie back to watch the
stars and feel the moondaisies between his toes! So we fixed it
for him."
"How ... did you fix it for him?"
"We bribed a cabdriver, took him up, smuggled him in and ... um
... left him there."
"You took him the top of the Ser-Ishvah in the middle of the
night and left him there?"
"Um ... well ... yes."
Still reeling from this latest blow, it was not very surprising
that Qui-Gon failed to take adequate precautions against
ambush. As he rounded the corner to his rooms, a substantial
figure confronted him.
"Now, look here, Mr Jinn -"
She was interrupted by a stentorian bellow.
"QUI-GON! My own dear little Qui-Gon! There you are!" The rich
voice boomed around the courtyard, attracting interested
spectators from all directions.
Qui-Gon paled. Bearing down upon them both was an unlikely
figure. Only a little taller than himself, but broader, more
muscular and dressed in a leather outfit of extravagant cut, in
a delicate shade of eau-de-nil, was Alon-zo Bugg. Qui-Gon
hadn't seen him in years. Ever since Bugg had flung off the
constraints of the council and decided to go freelance, his
only contact had been through ever more blood-curdling news
reports - and of course the wanted posters.
"You've grown, lad! Aren't you going to say hello to your dear
old master?" Bugg advanced with his arms outstretched to fling
them affectionately around his former padawan. Qui-Gon felt his
bowels turning to water. Aunt Ada seemed rooted to the spot,
her jaw slack. "Thought I'd drop in on the wedding. This the
intended, then? Bit more meat on her than your usual -eh!" He
roared with laughter and clutched a large portion of her left
buttock. Aunt Ada turned a strange colour. Her eyes bulged and
she began to draw breath.
Qui-Gon took the coward's way out. "If you'll excuse me -
planetary emergency to attend to." He backed away round the
corner, turned and fled.
It took a little while and quite a large bribe before Qui-Gon
found himself outside the Sacred Grove. Obi-wan had been there
only once in his life, he recalled. When his padawan was
fourteen years old he had been part of the annual ceremonial
visit by the Jedi to pay respects to the old religion of
Coruscant. Ser-Ishvah wasn't much of a mountain, but it was the
only one left untouched on Coruscant and the Grove was the last
remaining site containing indigenous wildlife. The place had
evidently made quite an impression upon his beloved.
The aged guardians of the Grove appeared to be having their
afternoon nap but he decided to take no chances. The ancient,
draconian prohibition against trespass on this holy site was
still honoured but was, in truth, an anachronism. The only real
danger was severe embarrassment - and he had had quite enough
of that for one day. He found a foothold in the crumbling wall
and clambered over.
It was quiet on the other side. Over-flight was banned, so
there was nothing to disturb the stillness. He strolled through
the dappled shade towards the drift of bright blue flowers at
the tree boundary. As he reached the clearing, he stopped to
drink in the sight of his beloved, dozing in the sunlight in a
sea of moondaisies, cuddling a stuffed stoat. Obi-Wan opened
his eyes and reached out his arms. "Shh..." he said, with a
smile as Qui-Gon stretched out beside him, "Just listen. Isn't
it wonderful?" And it was.
Much later, Obi-Wan turned to his lover and murmured, "You
realise, now I'll never be able to present you with the Scarf
of Fortitude and the Mittens of Sexual Continence?"
"Oh dear. Well, we'll just have to muddle along without them,
then," Qui-Gon said bravely, drawing lazy circles with his
fingertip on the most luscious behind in the known universe.
There was something to be said for living in sin.
Epilogue
A few weeks later, on a planet far, far away, a small goat
shook himself as he spied a new figure on the horizon. He felt
his soul fill with warm, fluffy feelings. As is the way of
goats, he piddled on his head to make himself more alluring and
set off towards his new beloved with a hopeful skip...
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