Summary: A year after the events in TPM, Obi-Wan reflects on
his feelings and in the process gets a little surprise.
Category: angst, pov, post-TPM
Pairing: O/Q
Rating: G
Spoilers: TPM
Disclaimer: The characters herein belong to George Lucas, I
just like messing with their minds for a little while. The song
lyric quoted was written by Loreena McKennitt and can be found
in the song "Dante's Prayer" on the album Book of Secrets. No
copyright infringement is intended.
Archive: M_A, anywhere else just ask :)
Acknowledgements: Many, many thanks and chocolate Obi-Wans to
Beth for the beta and for introducing me to TPM. :)
Feedback: Comments can be sent to
theladyofshalott@the-galaxy.net
Red. That's all I ever see in my dreams. Red.
The dreams always begin with a gauzy red, a vibrant veil that
separates me from an infinity of darkness. In the first moments
of my dream, the gauze holds then slowly gives leeway to the
velvety red of blood. Then, after a few agonizing moments,
images appear cloaked in the thick crimson liquid. Images of a
battle. Images of my master's last living moments. His face
staving off the pain he attempted to channel into the Force.
His hand raising only for a moment, reaching out to touch me. A
last physical caress before an eternity with the Force.
It's not only the color that haunts me; it's the voice as
well. My master's voice begging one last promise of me. A
promise, that despite my own feelings, must be kept. A promise,
that has been kept.
For a standard year, Anakin Skywalker has been my Padawan
learner. His manipulation of the Force is natural but I'd like
to think that his standing at the Academy is due somewhat to
what he's learned from me. It sounds rather vain, coming from a
Jedi knight, I know. This thought however, arises, not from any
egotistical belief in my skills, but because of the skill my
master had. He taught me well, and I hope that can I make him
proud, both in my teaching and in Anakin's learning.
I have tried, on multiple occasions, to bring forth these
memories in my dreams, at least those of Anakin's progress. I
want to share them with the Force, with him, because I can not
share myself. I can not share, or yet, face my own darkness.
Darkness, which has made a life once, filled with the bright
white of the Force's light side, a dirty gray of pain.
I killed the Sith with no thought, only with feeling. Only
with the blackness of anger. Anger that has only grown since my
master's death. It has darkened me, I'm sure of it, but then,
maybe I've always been dark. Maybe that's why, at last, Qui-Gon
wanted to be rid of me.
The Chosen One would be a vast improvement over an awkward
Padawan, who tainted with darkness could never fully meet the
requirements placed upon him.
Thoughts of the future, a message to my master, a plea for
forgiveness, I wish my dreams and meditations to be all these
things and more. And yet, every morning is the same. I wake,
drenched in sweat, feeling so sticky that I often believe that
I am covered in blood. The blood of my master, the blood of the
Sith Lord, my blood, it matters not.
This night, in a castle I'd like to forget, is no different. I
awake, muffling a half-sob, and cringe in the silent black of
the late night.
Shivering, I climb from the bed, and wander down the hall
peeking in on a peacefully sleeping Anakin. Even in sleep, he
is a bright child, exuding not only the Force, but happiness as
well. I've even begun to believe that he might truly be the
Chosen One. My master was probably right.
My master.
Suddenly, the room seems much too small and my need for fresh
air seems overwhelming. Casting one last look at the boy I move
through the suite's outer doors and escape into an open hall,
full of the night's cool air.
At first, I simply lean against the door, trying to let the
air fill my lungs, but when my racing heart refuses to calm, a
walk to tire my body seems like a better idea.
I set off down the hall quietly and am halfway around the
castle's outer hallway when a voice half-whispers from a
balcony above my head.
"Sir Jedi!"
Startled, I look up and stare into the eyes of Naboo's
sovereign. Who, in face at least, looks just as she did a year
ago dressed in the simple style of a handmaiden.
"Your highness," I stammer softly. "I apologize for my
disturbance."
My low and Jedi-like bow is met by her soft and bell-like
laughter.
"You are no disturbance sir. I was already awake, and simply
wondered if I might join you on your stroll."
"Of course, highness." My words are followed by a much smaller
bow and when I look up she is still smiling.
"Thank you," she says, still in a half-whisper. "I'll be down
as soon as I retrieve something from my room."
Moments later, I hear soft footfall coming from behind.
Turning, I found myself face to face with the young queen.
She gives me small smile and motions for me to lead the way.
After several minutes of walking, I become aware that the
queen's gaze often falls upon me and not upon the flower-filled
gardens and star bright sky. I let my realization that I sense
her action slide and instead focus on attempting to calm myself
by use of the Force.
Several moments and several glances more pass before the queen
speaks thoughtfully.
"I hope Sir Jedi, that your rooms are comfortable."
"Oh yes, highness. The rooms are quite comfortable." I smile.
"Decadent by Jedi standards.
I expect my comment to be met by another smile, but when I
turn to face the queen I am met with a pensive face.
"I'm sorry," she says quite suddenly. "I know this must be
hard for you."
I look at down at her solemn face and am reminded that despite
her young ages, this is a very wise and astute woman. One, who
I think, hopes to draw me out a bit, and maybe at this point
drawing out is what I need.
"Yes," the word escapes my mouth in a hoarse whisper. "My
master's death may have reunited him with the Force, but it has
left a great void in my life. And despite the comfort of the
Force, I sometimes feel that all I have now of my master are
memories and dreams."
She eyes me warily. "But they aren't dreams, they're
nightmares," she continues simply, before opening a door behind
us.
I follow the queen through the doorway into a small, fire-lit
palace hall and when she sits upon a large stone bench beside
the fire, I join her.
"Yes," I continue, still a little startled at my sudden
openness. "They are nightmares. In the last battle I fought and
killed in anger. Such actions defy the Jedi Code. They are a
path to the Dark Side and I feel that my nightmares stem from
that feeling and from the loss of my master."
She makes a soft noise, almost a snort, of dismay and
disbelief.
"To say that what you did is not the way of the Jedi, is to
say that the Jedi do not love and that they do not protect.
You, Obi-Wan Kenobi, as other Jedi have before you, did both."
I looked at her, almost cooly, before opening my mouth to
speak.
She smiles, lays a finger across my partially opened lips and
speaks softly, a half-asked question in her voice. "Let me
finish please, Knight Kenobi."
I nod and slump against the cold stone bench.
"Your foremost thoughts when you killed the Sith may have been
of your master, and that makes sense. You loved him deeply, so
how could it not? And yet, a part of you knew that if you did
not kill the Sith then he would kill others, as he had your
master. You protected all of us that day and your master is
proud."
I look at the queen, pale face aglow in the candlelight, and
smile bitterly. "You are right, your highness, but somehow that
does not make everything right. I have other questions, some I
think, that will never be answered."
"Anakin." The name comes from her mouth in a soft and loving
tone. "This is about his wish to train Anakin."
I want to shake my head and whisper 'no,' negating what she's
said, but the word only half-forms on my lips.
"He was doing what needed to be done Obi-Wan. If that hadn't
been the case he would never have suggested the idea. He loved
you too much to tear at your bond without just cause."
"And what, your highness," the words pour like acid from my
mouth, "do you know of Master Jinn's feelings for me?"
I look at her in the dim firelight and am surprised to see
that her face is suddenly paler than it ever was in the makeup
of the queen, and that her eyes glow with unshed tears.
She slowly brings forth a parchment envelope. It's a strange
item to be had in a time of compads, and I remember fleetingly,
that my master liked to practice caligh, an ancient form of
script on such paper.
"Several months ago when my ship was being repaired, a
crewperson found this paper half-hidden in a corner of the
quarters you and your master shared last year." She holds the
envelope out and I look down, none too surprised to recognize
the caligh as my master's own.
"This," she says, handing me the envelope marked simply with
my name. "I'm sure explains things much better than even a wise
Jedi could, for it comes from a good heart." She pauses as I
open the envelope and unsheathe the paper inside. "I'm sorry
that this was not forwarded immediately, but I did want to make
sure that it would reach your eyes only." She sighs and starts
toward the door. "And now, Knight Kenobi, I must retire. I
promised Ani a tour of the new space port in the morning."
I nod, barely hearing her words, as I stare, almost
unbelieving, at the paper in my hands. A thousand thoughts
running through my mind like podracers buzzing in a race. And
the young queen has reached the door before I remember her
presence. "Your highness," I whisper.
She turns, a sad smile lighting her face.
"Thank you."
The smile brightens and before she disappears behind the door,
I hear a whisper. "Anytime."
Obi-Wan,
"You gave me your love in the light of the stars."
There is an ancient song hailing from the planet of Landcots
whose lyrics include this bit of what some might call "poetic
romantic nonsense." For a long time I would have agreed with
them, and then just a little over 10 years ago I came to
realize that there was some truth in the age-old song.
I tell you this now, because as I watch your sleeping figure
across the room, I remember that it is your birthday, and
because I am afraid that the coming battle may put me at one
with Force.
There was a time, when I would never have thought myself
capable to believe the song's romantic notion. But you Obi-Wan
Kenobi, have changed me more than anyone I've known in my years
in this universe. From the day we met I was afraid of you. At
first, I feared the anger I believed to sear your soul and
then, in a moment of humbling heroics, you offered your life
for all the others in the Bandomeer mine, and that scared me
more. Your anger was of a childish kind, one that you would
conquer. Your compassion, your caring, your love, they are
unending. I should know. I've had the luck to know them all.
Since the beginning, you've challenged me, frustrated me,
angered me, cared for me. All those and the many in-betweens
are they not love?
You Obi-Wan Kenobi, taught an old man to begin anew. The
demons that have haunted my soul for years, the ghost of
Xanatos, they may be with me, but they are wounds healed in the
shadow of a bright light. Wounds healed by you. By your
laughter, your tears, and your love.
No master could ask for a better Padawan. It's not only the
feelings you've revived in me, it's the fact that you are a
worthy warrior. One who knows how to use the Force. You will be
a great Jedi, Obi-Wan. Never doubt that. Not even when others,
myself especially, might lead you to believe otherwise.
Please remember that I would never have suggested your
readiness for the Trials, if I did not believe that you were
ready.
That said; will you forgive me, my Padawan? For what I have
done and what I will do?
Anakin Skywalker must be trained, Chosen One or not. He is too
strong in the Force too go untutored. The Dark Side will notice
him and the Sith would take him, if we do not. Granted, the
Dark Side will seek him, with or without Jedi training, but at
least this way, something of him will know our ways, will see
the Light. I hope that you can understand this someday Obi-Wan,
and that if I do not survive the coming fight, that you will
train him, as I can trust no other.
However, if this battle is to end with a happier note, I want
you to know that although I might train Anakin, he can never
take your place at my side. He might have the title of Padawan,
but only because you gave me the renewed sense of self and
strength to train again.
Thank you Obi-Wan, for giving me that strength, for with it, I
retrieved my battered heart.
This year, on the anniversary of your birth, I have no gift of
material value. This year, in the calm before a storm, all I
can offer are you are three words.
I love you.
Qui-Gon Jinn
"I love you."
The last words of the letter echo in my mind as the parchment
falls into my lap. Qui-Gon loved me. He believed in me. He
thanked me. He believed that I had brought good change into his
life.
I bring my face to my hands, bury them in my lap, and in the
dying firelight of an empty palace hall, I allow myself to shed
the tears that have waited since that cold day one year ago in
the depths of the Theed Power Generator Plant.
I sit, half sobbing into my hands until the last of the
firelight has died away. Then, I slowly sink to the ground,
taking up a meditation position learned from my master, years
ago. My attempts to meditate however are waylaid by my
overwhelming feelings and I can not find my center until I feel
the light warmth of predawn rays penetrating my skin.
In the hours leading up to this moment, I allowed my thoughts
to wander, liked ships tossed on a stormy sea. Now, I must
bundle them as one and release them to the force. Normally,
such meditation is done without contact, without thoughts of
others, but now all I want, is to use the Force to touch my
master.
//Qui-Gon. I know that in this fashion, you must hear me. Do
you wonder why I did not use it before?
I couldn't.
I was either too crushed, too afraid, or too angry to do so.
Losing you was the hardest trial, not just as a Jedi Padawan,
but of my whole life. The only thing I could do in reaction to
the feelings your death brought was to throw myself into
training Anakin properly. I wanted him to do you proud, because
I was beginning to think that I never had. And that was what
brought me anger. I know it is one of the last feelings a Jedi
should have, but when you requested Anakin to be your Padawan,
I felt that what we had must have meant much less to you then
it did to me.
I tried so hard in the beginning, to be the proper Padawan. I
needed so badly to think that I would one day be a Jedi Knight.
But slowly, my wish to please you was less about becoming a
knight, and more about making you proud.
You were a good master. You not only taught a unruly young boy
how to be a Jedi, but you allowed him to see, despite your
sometimes cool exterior, that you cared.
Your caring and dedication, not just to our cause as Jedi, but
to our bond, to me, seemed to grow every year. And as it did, I
allowed myself the fancy that my growing feelings might be a
mirror of your own.
Anakin Skywalker however, changed all that. In the space of a
few days my world began to shatter. I felt as though I was
being pushed from a home I loved into an unknown and almost
frightening future. Not because I didn't know how to be a Jedi,
you trained me too well for that. But because it was a future
absent of your and that was a future I didn't think I could
handle.
I thought losing you to Anakin would send me into oblivion. I
was wrong, that would just be the tiniest sliver of what I've
felt since your death.
It's not just the loss either. It's my anger and my guilt as
well.
Now, however, reading your words, and listening to a wise
young queen, I feel relieved and just a little peaceful.
Thank you Qui-Gon. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. For
reminding me that sometimes to heal the pain, the Force must
work in tandem with love.
.....I love you.....//
My last words are a whisper of thought as I edge away from
meditation and return to the physical world. Aware, even before
I open my eyes that the bright rays of a warm sun are pouring
over my body.
The light, clean and warm, combined with the soothing of the
Force, is a balm to my wounded soul. For in it, I feel the love
of my master.
And in the cool, fragrant breeze blowing through a half-opened
window I hear the laughter of two half-children, who are
winning my heart in a different way.
I open my eyes and smile, as a bit of my master's sage advice
runs through my mind.
"Life may hurt Padawan, but it does go on, and in it, you must
remember that for as much as you are cared for, you must care
for others more."
Now, in the shining light of a bright spring morning, I feel
just how far that caring goes.
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