Warning: the following story contains implications of a m/m
relationship. STOP NOW if you are below 18 years of age OR if
you are easily offended.
Disclaimer: all hail almighty Lucasworld and its attendant
minions. And also please note: this story is not for profit,
only written for the satisfaction of my readers.
Archive: MA archive?, personal homepage
Category: angst, romance, implications of violence
Pairing: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Speculative fiction. Post-TPM.
Summary: Agreements. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon talk. There is also a
senator included.
The dawn song of the initiates spiraled upwards, soaring like
released birds. Young voices, sweet and innocent, wove an
intricate tapestry of music. The song spoke of Life, the power
of the Force and thankfulness. To the casual listener, the
words were arcane, harking back to ancient times. He could
simply nod along to the beauty, maybe shed a tear at the purity
of the voices. To the trained ear of the Jedi, the song was a
complex being, mutable and multi-layered. The initiates had to
stretch out with their feelings, thread the Force as if they
were weaving baskets.
But for Qui-Gon, he preferred to listen like an ordinary man. A
man without the training and discipline of the Jedi. He wanted
to enjoy the song as it was.
He found that he couldn't. His heightened senses picked out
individual voices, detected special scents. The sweetness ...
the fragrance of human skin. The song was a melange of
different voices, different personalities. He lifted up his
head and inhaled, appreciative of the morning aromas coming
from the communal Dining Hall. Cereal. Hot water. Bacon.
His mouth watered instantly, the Alter in him craving for the
taste of meat.
With a soft curse, Qui-Gon willed it to go away and sink back
down to the bottom of his psyche. Instead, he turned his head
to the sun, feeling the warmth touch his face. He enjoyed it,
rumbling unconsciously. He suddenly wanted to lie down and soak
in the delicious sunlight.
There were snatches of conversation. Padawans laughing. The
somber tones of Jedi Knights. White noise.
He sighed. The rustle of robes, too soft to be heard, alerted
him. The familiar sweet musk drifted to his nostrils and he
sniffed, grinning to himself.
Obi-Wan.
"Master?" The soft voice said respectfully. "Qui-Gon?" This
time, with more enthusiasm.
"Come here," Qui-Gon sensed something else in the young man's
stance. There was attraction. But there was also hesitation.
"Stand close to me."
Obi-Wan approached him quietly. Then, the Jedi Master gathered
the youth close with one arm. There was a moment when Obi-Wan
tensed up as if he was hiding something. Then he leaned into
Qui-Gon's embrace.
They stood silently. The dawn song of the initiates ended
beautifully, the soaring tune reaching deep into the sky.
"How's Ani?" Qui-Gon said softly, stroking Obi-Wan's smooth
cheek, feeling the faint stubble. Ani was homesick, natural for
a child of his age. Sometimes, Qui-Gon could hear the little
boy crying in his sleep.
The mention of 'Ani' did something to Obi-Wan. He pulled
slightly away. Qui-Gon squeezed the strong shoulder
reassuringly.
"Anakin is having his breakfast," Obi-Wan answered as dutifully
as an obedient Padawan would. "He looks much better, Qui-Gon."
Silence again. Down below, the initiates started another song,
this time a cheerful one.
"Qui-Gon."
Obi-Wan's tone was solemn. Formal.
"I have been thinking about the Life Bond," Obi-Wan said
quietly. "I feel that I am prepared for a Life Bond, Master."
Qui-Gon experienced a rush of joy and relief. He looked into
the intense blue eyes, saw the same joy reflected in those
beautiful depths.
Yet, he saw something else. Anxiety.
"Obi-Wan, what is it you are afraid of?" He whispered.
Fear. One of the taboo emotions. A pathway to the Dark.
"Unpredictability." Obi-Wan's youthful face suddenly looked
older, more jaded.
"Obi-Wan, I promise you that I am able to control the Alter."
Obi-Wan gave a small smile, shook his head. "It's easier said
than done. Everything, a lot of things will change with this
Life Bonding. My Trials. Anakin. You."
"Me?"
"Yes. You." A low chuckle, a flash of the blue eyes. "I saw you
practising the 36 levels a few nights ago ...and I don't think
I can handle this side of you." The words were serious.
"Obi-Wan ..." Amusement warred with rising concern.
"You looked so different," the young man said softly and
shrugged. "It's not that I am a blushing virgin. It's just
you."
"You are afraid that I might turn savage ... " Qui-Gon said,
sorrow in his voice.
Obi-Wan remained quiet. He faced the other way.
"You have to trust me."
"I trust you, Qui-Gon. It's just that I don't know when I will
see that creature again ... " The word 'creature' was saturated
with anger and bitterness. It shocked the Jedi Master to his
core. This was Obi-Wan revealing his innermost feelings.
"Obi-Wan ... " He drew his apprentice into his arms.
"Dammit," the dry acerbic tone was back again. The shields were
raised once more. "I sound like some romance holo-projection
heroine!" He shuddered. "I have to go, Master. Ani is still in
the study, waiting for me."
Qui-Gon released him and the youth practically ran back into
the room. His hearing filtered out the sounds: the cheerful
song of the initiates repeating, the 'polite' voice of Obi-Wan
calling for Ani and the child's answering shout. A part of his
mind knew that Ani was supposed to construct his first
lightsaber and Obi-Wan would be there to test his Force
sensitivity.
Trust. It was a powerful word. Trust. Obi-Wan had to learn to
trust him. To feel safe around him, with him. There were no
simple lessons on trust alone. Sometimes it was best to learn
by deeds.
His head throbbed painfully. He looked up again, letting the
sun return blessed heat to his chilled body.
The talk with the Supreme Chancellor took almost two Standard
hours. By the time it ended, Palpatine was seething with
frustration. Talk. Talk. Talk. Negotiate. Negotiate. Negotiate.
He slammed his hand on his ornate table, giving his fury
expression. He wanted to break the statues into smithereens. He
wanted to see the Supreme Chancellor break into tiny pieces.
Oh, this thought gave him pleasure.
Palpatine smoothed his rich robes. The gentle fluting music of
the sunjewel humming songbird could be heard in its wrought
iron cage. Ah, the gift from the Naboo queen. How touching. He
crossed over to the cage, seeing the tiny figure of the bird.
Glimpses of shimmering green-red feathers. The rapidly-beating
wings. It was a female songbird. Like its male counterpart, it
would sing. For life. For territory.
He smiled. The gift of the songbird was surely a subtle
comment. The Naboo queen was still defending her position
valiantly. Silly girl. She didn't know exactly who she was
dealing with.
The memory of the two Jedis present during the victory
procession on Naboo roused the deep rage in him. Disgusting
interfering Jedi!
Palpatine opened a box on the table, saw the clasp and touched
its cold metal design.
Negotiate, Palpatine. You have to negotiate. Talk, divert
attention, flatter, lie, confuse. The esteemed trademarks of a
politician, of course.
His spies told him about the current news circulating around
Coruscant. There would be a Life Bonding ceremony. Celebration
of two joined lives. Oh, how beautiful. He snorted with
ill-disguised contempt. Two Jedi men sworn to be Life Mates.
Ah, touching. Was he supposed to dap his eyes and pretend that
there were tears of joy?
Except ... except that there was someone linked to these two
Jedi. That someone made Palpatine grin with glee.
Isn't life a journey of negotiations? Of side-stepping and
evading possible dangers, seeking new opportunities?
Palpatine stared at the songbird singing her lungs out in her
iron cage.
Rawhide, his favorite pet arrowhead eel, would be getting
something new for dinner.
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