Rating: Terribly PG - nothing overt, just some sappy angstful
hints.
Feedback: PLEASE!! Response of any type makes my little world
go 'round.
Summary: A slightly skewed version of a cannon scene.
SPOILER: Phantom Meanace alert! Massive horrible spoiler for an
itty bitty scene in both book and movie. It didn't happen this
way but my fevered little brain keeps imagining that it did.
Oh, and they're not mine so I'll sprinkle some incense on the
alter of George Lucas and Terry Brooks.
The ground was wet, there by the shore; dampened from a recent
rain, it gave beneath Obi-Wan's weight and pulled greedily at
his boots with each step. Though the rain had passed he could
smell it in the air - clean and heavy, wet, the dark green
smell of earth and plant and water, the tangible scent of life.
It was something he might have taken pleasure in, normally, but
now it seemed only to mock the circumstances around them.
Amidala stood further inland with her handmaids and men - war
haunted their thoughts, hovered about the words from their lips
like a palpable chill that settled around them even in the
crisp sunlit morn. Even where he walked, at the edge of the
shore where the dark water lapped against the ground, the chill
stretched forth its fingers to brush and beckon.
At the shore, where his Master stood, looking out across the
water... where the chill of silence ran deep and swift between
them, an untried river that Obi-Wan found himself at a loss to
stretch across.
From Coruscant to Naboo, and naught a word had passed between
them that had not been stark necessity. Silence had fallen
across them like a strained shroud, one that Obi-Wan himself
had woven. The guilt gnawed at his stomach now until he could
admit it - yes, he had made it, with hurt pride and anger as
the threads upon his loom. Hurt and anger and yes, the dark,
bitter taste of jealousy that made him want to strike out, to
inflict the same hurt he felt upon the one who had struck him.
It had carried him on its wave for a time, given a spiteful
edge to what few words he had spoken and birthed the chill that
had nourished and grown in his roiling emotions.
Until he had woken, clear headed at last, to find the chill
grown beyond his control and no idea, now, of how to breach the
shroud he had created.
Over an arm's length between them, and for the first time in
countless years Obi-Wan did not feel he could step closer to
that broad-shouldered frame. Qui-Gon did not glance about as he
approached, did not speak or gesture or in any way acknowledge
him. Starkly frightening it was, how quickly the silence had
become customary, how easily the distance between them had
grown. To break it now would be Obi-Wan's task, the creator
become the destroyer... the healer. He swallowed dryly, tasting
the bitterness, feeling the faint twinge of still stubborn
pride and the aching emptiness of remorse.
"Master." He almost winced at the sound of his own voice
shattering the still air - quiet, yet it rang like the claxon
of a great bell in the silence, the single word alone an
offering of an unspoken apology. And still Qui-Gon did not
turn, only the breeze that lifted long strands of his silver
streaked hair giving life to the carven statue of his stance.
Obi-Wan tightened his jaw, as though the pressure might combat
the flutter in his stomach, and spoke again, the word pitched
louder now. "Master."
Nothing. A long moment, pained and straining, until at last the
remnants of false pride gave way and Obi-Wan bowed his head,
his whisper dry upon the breeze. "Qui-Gon."
"Obi-Wan." Deep voiced and just as quiet, and now, at last, the
older man did turn to face him. There was no judgement in his
tone but the shroud had touched his eyes, deepened the lines
upon his face. Obi-Wan swallowed again, regret tumbling the
words out with heartfelt awkwardness.
"Master... I have behaved badly. I meant no disrespect to you."
Qui-Gon's eyes trained upon him steadily, a still mirror before
which Obi-Wan could only haltingly continue. "I don't wish to
be difficult about the boy." Words left unsaid, but perhaps it
would be enough to convey his heart. There was jealousy, yes,
but he knew the taste of it now, knew how to better it rather
than let it be the better of him. Knew that it's touch could
never sting half so sharply as the pain of looking at what he
had unwittingly wrought.
The words passed between them, knifing through the silence,
laying the heart of it bare. Obi-Wan took a breath, held it,
expelled it again, hearing the overly loud thrum of his own
heart within his ears. Qui-Gon continued to study him; his
voice, when he spoke, quietly shattered the air around Obi-Wan
and robbed him of his next breath. "Nor have you been." The
shroud faded before the Jedi Master's simple words, brushed
away on the slight breeze. "You were honest with me. Honesty is
never wrong."
Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly. The steps he had found
impossible minutes before now faded away like a forgotten
nightmare, restoring to him his proper place beside his Master,
the rift between them fading into the bright sunlight. The
faintest of smiles lit Qui-Gon's stern face, a warmth that
touched his eyes more than his expression. "I spoke the truth
when I told the Council you were ready. You are. There is
nothing more I can teach you."
Obi-Wan opened his eyes to the light of the day. Behind them
the voices of the others carried softly upon the air, snatching
away the intimate quiet of relief that he, greedily, would
rather have kept. Qui-Gon's gaze flickered in understanding.
Reaching out, he stroked the back of one hand lightly across
his pupil's cheek, his touch lingering gently. Obi-Wan leaned
into the slight gesture, a thousand things conveyed more easily
in touch and gaze than words alone could ever have done.
Qui-Gon's fingertip brushed across his lips as the Jedi drew
his hand away, the caress and the warmth of his voice conveying
all that Obi-Wan needed to hear. "You will make me proud, my
young Padawan."
"I will always try, my Master." If his voice broke slightly
there were none close enough to hear, and the light in
Qui-Gon's quiet eyes was all the sun needed to drive the last
shadows of the shroud away from Obi-Wan's heart.
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