Summary: This is a world where the Jedi are winged like
angels. Obi-wan deals with his inner frustration and his
despair in "Black Wing: Singed Feathers, Broken Dreams". We get
to read about his dislike of his black wings and his
difference. He seems to have accepted it at the end but for how
long? Also, we get to see his dreams of flight and a certain
stranger. "Whirlwind of Fury" deals with suppressed anger
breaking free...and the consequences.
"Open Rebuke, Hidden Love" sees the aftermath. Can Obi-Wan
come to grips with his own anger? Can Qui-Gon reconcile the
transformation in his apprentice and himself?
Dedicated to those who have encouraged me with their emails.
Thank you for your inspiration and your feedback. Many thanks
to Raonaid. **grin**
Rating: PG-13.
*** *** ***
Black Wing: Open Rebuke, Hidden Love.
*** *** ***
Better is open rebuke
Than hidden love.
--- Proverbs 27:5, NIV.
It took only a short time for Obi-Wan to realize what he had
done. He had seen the damage in the training room and felt a
strong pang of sorrow. But he was so furious with himself and
the whole world that he abandoned the twinge of guilt and
stormed back to his room. Now, in the coolness of the quarters,
his skin prickling with raised goose pimples because of the
cold draft from the ventilation, he experienced a wave of
nausea so terrible he doubled over and broke down, dry-heaving
miserably.
What had he done? He only...only served to perpetuate the
evil/sin incarnate stereotype of a Black Wing! Oh look at the
black-winged failure! It wasn't the physical damage Obi-Wan was
sickened by. It was the extent of his anger that terrified him.
It reminded him of a geyser he had seen when he was younger.
According to Qui-Gon, the jet of water was propelled by the
amount of air pushing it. His anger was like the geyser, only
darker and terrible. He could imagine Master Yoda's lecture and
he dreaded the crack of the gimmer stick on his knee.
He wiped his face and forced himself back to his feet. He
wobbled, feeling like the sweet jelly cakes they served on
feast days. Outside, thunder rumbled. He turned, running a hand
through his sweat-drenched hair.
A young man with obsidian wings was looking at him. Gleaming,
half-dressed, he was deathly pale... and beautiful. In a dark
way.
Obi-Wan started, his hand going straight to his lightsaber.
The young man mirrored his action and it shocked Obi-Wan that
the beautiful young man was himself. He swallowed, noticing how
agitated his doppelganger was. Exhausted, withdrawn, the wings
drooping slightly.
Beautiful, with an air of fey.
Obi-Wan simply stared at himself. He had never truly looked at
himself. Jedi do not care for vanity, Master Yoda had said
once. But the person staring back at him belligerently was
handsome... attractive.
With a violent shudder, Obi-Wan strode away from the
reflection and headed for the 'fresher room where he stood for
a long time under the hot stream of water.
*** *** ***
Qui-Gon followed his padawan, worry clouding the Force around
him like muddy water. He passed a few Knights and their
students, nodding curtly. They let him through, their faces
impassive. The news of Obi-Wan's 'performance' had spread
through the Temple like wild fire, crackling down the corridors
and whispering across the courtyard. As much as he hated the
current situation, Qui-Gon could only square his shoulders and
walk resolutely without divulging how much concern and chagrin
he had felt.
As he took the lift to Habitat Level 15, he meditated. Or, he
tried to. The image of Obi-Wan, glistening with moisture and
chest heaving with exertion, seemed to have burned deep into
his retinas. The more he closed his eyes, the more he saw his
student, standing in the midst of the wrecked training room. He
remembered, with a great deal of discomfort, the tightening of
his groins and the flow of blood into his...
A group of initiates entered the lift and the Jedi Master
immediately shielded his mind. He didn't want inquisitive
fingers poking into his thoughts.
There was a time when Master Yoda and Qui-Gon's friend Master
Windu had shown 'concern' for the black-winged child under his
tutelage. 'Concern' was just an euphemism for 'disapproval'.
Mace spoke against Obi-Wan's future, stating bluntly that a
Black-Wing would bring shame to the Jedi. Yoda was more sedate
and less judgmental; he gave Obi-Wan a chance to prove himself.
For many years, Obi-Wan had excelled in his studies. He would
make an excellent Jedi Knight. He had shown the qualities of
compassion, serenity and honor. He had shown maturity during
missions.
Qui-Gon had heard how Obi-Wan was brought into the Temple. A
tiny toddler, with wings as black as night, was delivered to
the Temple's doorstep. The Lars were the ones who had brought
the child. Wingless, they had stood pleading the Jedi to let
their son into the Temple. The woman had given birth to a
winged child who, according to them, was a sure sign of a Force
carrier. The only lamentation they had was the color of the
child's wings. So, Yoda accepted the male toddler, the old sage
nodding gravely at the sight of the baby. He had seen the tiny
wings, curled up like fragile black scallop shells on the
baby's back.
The Jedi Master rubbed his face and stared at the cityscape
covered with a dense layer of mist. Rain was still falling, the
rivulets of water curling down the glass pane of the lift. It
was comforting, watching Coruscant prepare for another rainy
night.
There was a time when he had seen another young man. Equally
as beautiful and lethal as sharp razor blades, this young man
had somehow gotten under his skin and into his heart. But the
young man was all but a faint memory...
A memory...
The lift halted, the doors sliding open and Qui-Gon strode
out, marshalling his thoughts. His body was reacting in strange
ways, ways in which he found disturbing and oddly pleasant. He
closed his eyes and stilled his mind, feeling the cool breath
of serenity filter back into his disorganized thoughts.
Obi-Wan was in the room. He could feel the young man like a
soft pulsating heart. Qui-Gon pursed his lips and keyed in his
password. He had to talk to his padawan. Rebuke him... upbraid
him for his behavior... The door opened with the sounds of a
shower cycle running and water splashing drifting out from the
'fresher room.
"Obi-Wan," he began by saying.
There was no reply.
Then, the water stopped splashing. Qui-Gon tried not to think
about his padawan, nude under hot steaming water. I am a
lecherous old man, he mused ruefully. So much for the vows of
chastity and abstinence.
His padawan stepped out from the 'fresher room and simply
froze. Obi-Wan's eyes lowered quickly as if he was suddenly
aware of the towel around his midriff.
*** *** ***
The hot water seemed to wash away all the anger. The simmering
rage seemed to melt away under the stream of clean water.
Obi-Wan tilted his face to the splash of water, enjoying and
luxuriating in its warmth. As he soaped himself, he could hear
someone entering the room and his heart did a double
loop.
His master.
He washed the suds off his body and dried himself the towel.
Then, he wrapped it around his midriff, sliding open the
door.
Qui-Gon stood like a forbidding shadow in the living room, his
blue eyes watching him. Heat rose up Obi-Wan's cheeks and he
gazed at his feet, feeling suddenly self-conscious. How could
Qui-Gon look so calm and composed?
The young man smoothed his black wings, still not looking at
Qui-Gon.
"Obi-Wan," the gentle voice of his master said quietly. "How
do you feel now?"
The question stirred Obi-Wan's heart and he glanced at the
older man. The ceiling light glittered on the greyish-brown
hair, gliding down the folded white wings and glowing softly on
the light feathers. For a moment, Obi-Wan felt embarrassed and
his cheeks burned even more.
"I feel fine, Master."
Qui-Gon began to pace up and down. Slowly. Deliberately. "Did
you know how much danger and grief you have put yourself into,
young student? You have done a great deal of damage to the
training room. You should have come to me instead. You should
talk to me and we should have dealt with the anger
together."
"Master..." Obi-Wan realized how close Qui-Gon was. He could
smell the piney cologne emanating from his teacher's body. He
swallowed, keenly aware of his state of undress.
"You should have to deal with the anger like a padawan of your
level should. You are almost that close to reaching Knighthood,
young Obi-Wan. Such displays of behavior hinder progress, do
you know that?" Qui-Gon pulled away, hiding his own discomfort.
The sight of Obi-Wan did something to his body...
The reprimand made Obi-Wan wince silently. Qui-Gon was angry
alright. Angry, and it was showing on the regal face, in the
blue burning eyes.
"I have trained you long enough, Obi-Wan. Long enough to
instill in you the knowledge of the Jedi." Don't be foolish,
the unheard words continued. Don't throw away your chances,
young man.
"I have taught you tolerance, understanding and compassion.
You have so much potential in you, young Obi-Wan. Yet, your
behavior just now in the training room is the talk of the
Temple..."
Obi-Wan clenched his hands. The combination of praise and
rebuke caused his anger to flare up once more. He couldn't
control it. It eeled up his throat and out of his mouth in a
vitriolic stream: "Tolerance? I have learned tolerance, Master.
But the rest of the Jedi aren't really showing it! Compassion?
Yes, only to their own kind! I am getting sick and tired with
the looks and the stares. I don't belong here at the Temple. I
belong to the Sith..."
The next thing Obi-Wan knew was a stinging slap, right on his
cheek. As he looked up, shocked and stunned, he saw Qui-Gon's
face, mirroring the same emotions. The Jedi Master lowered his
hand slowly.
"Master..." Obi-Wan placed a cool hand on his smarting cheek.
His Master had never slapped him before. The fact that Qui-Gon
did so was testimony of the man's frustration and anger.
"I apologize, Obi-Wan..."
"It's my fault, Master. I was too...impulsive..."
Qui-Gon shook his head. With a sigh, he leaned over and
embraced his student tightly. "We gave in to our anger,
Obi-Wan..." Blue-green eyes were staring straight into him. The
clear depths sparkled with inner life. A trembling hand glanced
over the Jedi Master's face, brushing his trimmed beard
lightly. The air throbbed between the two of them. Heat
shimmered, bubbled and faded away just as quickly. Obi-Wan's
upraised face bore a tinge of surprise as his lips glanced
against Qui-Gon's...
And the youth pulled himself away, as if he had been burned.
His wings trembled.
"I am sorry, Master Qui-Gon..." Obi-Wan said in a hurry and he
ran to his room, his face reddened with embarrassment and
something else...
Qui-Gon breathed harshly. His temples ached and he knew he was
shaking. He looked down at his body, horrified to see its
rebellious reaction. He had to meditate long and hard later.
Now, he could only stand alone in the living room of their
quarters, aware that things had changed subtly in their
relationship.
*** *** ***
The dream came back, vivid and sensual as ever. He flew over
the glittering sea, his dream-body reveling in the fluidity of
dream-flight. His wings were alive, singing with freedom. His
skin was bronze under the dream-sun.
He flew past cliffs, swift like a firebird.
Someone was standing on one of the cliffs. It was the
black-winged stranger. His long black hair was blown back by
unseen winds. He was only wearing thin gossamer pants. The
upper half of his body, his torso, was left bare.
The stranger extended out a hand as if in greeting.
Let me guide you, a voice said, like the smoothness of warm
honey.
I don't understand, he said. Even when he dreamed, he
experienced the cold finger of confusion.
Let me teach you. You can fly higher than the flocks of birds.
You can be in a position better...so much better than ordinary
people. The voice persisted, singing into his blood. It felt
like the kiss of fire, the flow of sunlight down his
wings.
You are one of my kind. You are not alone, my friend. There
are many of us.
Your kind? Hope rushed through his systems and he
laughed.
Don't let the Jedi fool you. Don't give in to their lies. They
are hiding the truth from you, young friend.
The truth?
The truth, my friend, the truth.
Then the stranger disappeared like a mirage and Obi-Wan was
alone on his bed. The darkness in his room brought him back to
reality. The dreamscape was gone. The golden light and the
shining water had faded away. Yet, the stranger's words echoed
in his heart and warmed his soul.
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