Archive: M_A. If anyone else wants it, just ask so I can
visit.
Category: Vignette, slight H/C
Rating: PG-13ish for semi-graphic depiction of childbirth
Spoilers: None
Summary: Obi and Qui experience something rare and precious
indeed
Feedback: I'd love it! Offlist only please,
sheltiesongs@hotmail.com
Disclaimers: I'm a broke college student, so a lawsuit is
pointless. You get most of my money anyways, George. They're
yours, not mine, I'm just ... borrowing them. They'll be much
happier for the experience.
Acknowledgements: HUGE thanks to ADM for the beta. You rock!
/thoughts/, [telepathy]
WARNING! Baby!Fic ahead! If male pregnancy punches your squick
button, delete now or forever hold your peace.
/This isn't good; this is really not good,/ Obi-Wan thought
darkly to himself as he shifted slightly in his chair at the
negotiation table. One hand reached surreptitiously under the
table to rest on his distended abdomen, rubbing gently. Hoping
to avoid notice, he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled,
fighting the temptation to moan aloud. /Sith ... why now?/
These negotiations could continue on for hours, if not days.
/Couldn't you have waited just a little while longer?/ As if in
answer, a sharp kick pressed against his hand. He imagined his
soon-to-be-born child was indignant at the very thought.
[Love?] Qui-Gon's anxious voice sounded gently in his mind.
[Are you allright?]
Obi-Wan searched desperately for an evasion. This couldn't be
happening; he could not be going into labor in the middle of a
negotiation session! [I'm fine, Qui, real ... ahhhh ...]
Physically silent, his mental moan nonetheless carried to
Qui-Gon through their bond as another, stronger contraction
gripped his belly.
Abruptly, Qui-Gon stood and looked fixedly at representatives
of the warring factions of Chi-Dura. So caught up in their
bickering were they that they had not noticed the short mental
exchange between the two Jedi.
"It is obvious that these talks are going nowhere tonight. I
suggest a recess until both your sides are willing to put your
bickering aside and get down to the business of making peace.
We will resume talks following Week's End." /Long enough to get
another team in here if what I sense is true .../
The delegates had the good grace to look sheepish as they
scurried from the room under the Jedi Master's disapproving
gaze. The door to the conference room had no sooner whirred
shut than Qui-Gon scrambled to his mate's side. Now that they
were alone, Obi-Wan relaxed the tight rein he'd been keeping on
his outward response to his body's labor. Panting heavily, he
wrapped both arms around his belly, sweat beading on his
forehead. Qui-Gon knelt beside him, rubbing soothing circles on
his back, as they waited for the contraction to pass.
At Obi-Wan's sigh of relief as the contraction eased, Qui-Gon's
gentle hand came to rest on the rounded abdomen, massaging the
last of the tension away. [How far apart are they, beloved?]
[Close ... very close. No more than a few minutes apart. I
don't understand why things are moving so quickly....] The
young Knight, aided by his mate's solid strength, pushed
himself to his feet, then stood a moment, swaying. Qui-Gon's
arms cradled him close, soothing and comforting him. "Are you
sure you do not wish for a Healer?"
"Quite sure." Obi-Wan's soft, cultured voice was firm. Both
sexes of his people, the Marashai, could bear young, so
Obi-Wan's pregnancy was routine. Traditionally, they gave birth
at home with only their mates and family in attendance,
providing there were no complications expected. While his
contact with his homeworld and its traditions was tenuous at
best, this custom, at least with his firstborn, was one he
wished to keep. Leaning into Qui-Gon for support, he shuffled
slowly out of the conference room.
They stopped several times on the way back to their quarters to
wait out a contraction. Qui-Gon held his mate close and stroked
his spiky hair, his heart breaking in his helplessness to ease
the pain his mate was enduring.
[That's it, my Obi-Wan, breathe through it. Nice deep breaths,
ease them out.] Obi-Wan leaned heavily against him as the
strongest contraction thus far tore through him. Teeth clenched
and gripping Qui-Gon's cloak in white-knuckled fists, he tried
to slow his gasping breaths.
Somehow, they made it back to their quarters. As Qui-Gon palmed
open the door and half-carried Obi-Wan inside, the young man
suddenly cried out in surprise and pain. Fluid gushed from
between his legs. Qui-Gon hastily helped him out of his soiled
clothes as the contraction passed, scooping him up and laying
him gently on the bed. Supporting the laboring Knight with one
arm, he adjusted the pillows with a touch of the Force, trying
to make his mate as comfortable as possible.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, both hands going to his belly as he
pursed his lips together. He was determined to stifle the cries
that wanted to erupt from him with every painful clenching of
his womb. His entire body trembled as he fought the growing
urge to push.
Dimly, he was aware of Qui-Gon's gentle parting of his thighs,
the soothing fingers running up and down the sweat-soaked skin.
The Jedi Master examined his mate quickly but thoroughly, his
manner calm, his bearing serene.
[All right, my love; it is time for our child to greet the
world,} he murmured softly, easing the panting Knight's thighs
further apart. Calling a bottle of antiseptic to his hand, he
swabbed the solution over the birth canal and the surrounding
skin with sterile gauze. [You can push now; it's OK. Don't try
to stop it.]
"Push, Obi-Wan," he encouraged aloud. The young man leaned
forward slightly, his fists balled at his sides as he bore down
with all his strength. Slowly, the baby's head crowned as the
small body began to emerge.
All the while, Qui-Gon kept up a steady litany of quiet
encouragement and soothing nonsense words, forcing Obi-Wan to
focus on him instead of the pain.
"The head is out," Qui-Gon said huskily, suctioning fluid from
the tiny mouth and nostrils with a bulb syringe. "Relax a
moment if you can; get your breath." Obi-Wan's chest heaved
with exertion.
Moments later, the urge to push once more became all-consuming.
Biting his lip against the pain, trying to tap the Force to
augment his flagging strength, Obi-Wan pushed with all his
might. Ever so slowly, the baby slipped from the birth canal,
crying indignantly at her unceremonious eviction from the
warmth of the womb.
Qui-Gon cradled the infant in his arms, gently laying her on
Obi-Wan's chest. The younger Knight's eyes were flooded with
joyful tears, and he smiled exultantly as he looked on his
newborn daughter for the first time.
"She's breathtaking," Qui-Gon breathed in wonder as he reached
out one finger to softly stroke the tiny, perfect cheek and
wispy brown hair.
"She's you, love," Obi-Wan whispered tiredly. Indeed, the
newborn seemed to favor a feminine version her tall,
sapphire-eyed father, masked though it was in her baby
features.
"What shall we call her?"
"Lanei ..." he whispered, cooing softly to her as he drifted
off into exhausted slumber..
/"Cherished" in Marashai .../ Qui-Gon thought. /She surely is./
Encircling his family protectively in his arms, he dropped a
kiss on each sleeping face. "Lanei she is."
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