Author's Notes: This is a songfic, which I used to hate, but
lately can't seem to avoid loving and writing. It's just a
basic vignette that came to me late one night last week and has
nagged at me ever since, so be kind. <g> If you don't
like songfic, do us both a favor and don't read this. Based on
Duran Duran's "(Got to Get You) Out Of My Mind". No beta, so
all mistakes are my fault.
//Light a candle,
Lay flowers at the door,
For those who're left behind
And the ones who came before//
He lay with his arms outstretched in supplication, sprawled
across the bed, unseeing, uncaring, only a shell of what he had
been the night before. His eyes, their brilliant color dulled
to an indistinct gray, were fixed on a point in the palace
ceiling, a point he'd memorized, a point which no longer
existed in his reality. Shifting shapes and shadows circled
him, their presence changing nothing. He was immobile,
listless, his body present but his mind elsewhere.
The faint smell of a dying blaze clung to his clothing, the
scent lifting like ashes in the wind, twisting invisibly about
the room before fading away. The sounds of the waterfall which
cascaded beneath the foundations of the palace echoed about the
cavernous room, muted by distance, unchanged by time. Bitter
herbs lingered on his tongue, unnoticed, the residue of the
ceremony he'd attended that evening. Underneath his
outstretched hand, his Master's lightsaber, the weapon which
had saved his life - one more reminder of a day which refused
to end, a night that seemed eternal.
Anakin's demanding mind-touch pressed at the edges of his
memories, denied entry. The boy felt the rebuff even at a
distance, withdrawing without complaint. There was no room for
anyone else tonight. Not now, not when it was so raw, so
desperately painful. So much time they'd wasted, so many days
which passed without something to mark them as important. He
would have changed so much, if only he'd known.
He was without the strength even to throw his arm across his
eyes, and the tears fell unguarded, flowing sideways down his
cheeks, feathering across his ears onto the silken sheets
below.
//Here it comes now
Sure as silence follows rain
The taste of you upon my lips
The fingers in my brain//
"Obi-Wan."
"Master?" He started upright on the bed, realizing suddenly
that he'd been asleep. His hand flew to his mouth, where an
impression lingered, an unaccountable warmth. His tongue darted
out, seeking a particular taste, and his eyes widened as he
found it. He sucked in his lower lip, ran a hand across the
dried tracks of tears which crusted his face, wiping away all
visible evidence of his grief.
In the dead of night, the room seemed to breathe with its own
intensity. The silence was alive, tangible, filled with a
presence which was as much a part of him as his own heart.
Obi-Wan saw only darkness, but the borders of his consciousness
reached out, accepting the light that was hidden just beyond.
He drew in his breath sharply, head snapping back, mouth
growing slack as the familiar, wished-for closeness pawed its
way through his mind, leaving behind glittering imprints of
memory.
Obi-Wan.
//Ever gentle
As it kills me where I lay
Who am I to resist
Who are you to fail?//
A sudden, unreasoning anger filled the young Jedi, fueled by
sorrow, overpowering all other impulses.
You left me here alone to train this boy, I can't do this,
I'm not fit to be a Jedi. I failed you, I cost you your life,
I-
Like the delicate caress of water on skin, his anxieties were
soothed, his rage dissipating like the wisps of clouds in the
skies over Coruscant. Images began flashing through his mind,
so rapidly each was but a snapshot quickly pulled away. Killing
the draigons with Qui-Gon at his side...facing Xanatos on
Bandomeer...healing hands which passed over his skin and made
him whole in every way...his Master holding him still as he
made love to him with lips and tongue, with every part of his
body...missions filled with knowing looks, laughter and subtle
lessons taught with insistence...cries of passion and regret
mingling over the remains of their life together...
/And I've got to get you out of my mind
But I can't escape from the feeling
As I try to leave the memory behind
Without you, what's left to believe in?//
"Stop!" Obi-Wan cried, curling onto his side, the torture of
loss and mourning too much to be borne. He hugged himself
fiercely, thinking that he would not survive this. Now that he
was becoming delusional, imagining his Master to be with him,
there was no doubt about the future that awaited him. He would
not be able to keep his promise. Anakin would not be trained.
The Council would sigh with relief at having Qui-Gon's pressure
removed, and would shuffle the boy off to an education program
which didn't suit his needs, and could never possibly answer
his questions about the nature of his abilities.
Snatched away without warning...no future, no Master...he
wasn't ready. He knew his own flaws. He couldn't possibly be to
Anakin what Qui-Gon could have been, and there would be a price
to pay for his ineptitude...
The memories crowded in on him, not accepting his rejection,
surging through him like the swelling of a river after a hard
rain. His tears felt hot, alien on his face, streaks of
reminiscence driving toward an acceptance he would never allow.
He gave himself up to them, the peace that accompanied
surrender washing over him, cleansing him, giving him license
to fall deeper into the wistful darkness which surrounded him.
//Could be so sorry
For the way it had to go
But now I feel your presence
In a way I could not know//
Obi-Wan.
This time the voice was less ghostlike, more substantial.
And not in his mind.
He listened, hushed and electric, the press of tranquility
biting into his awareness. Hands pressed him back, large hands,
hands which knew where to touch him, how to please him. The
hands were within and without, a part of him, inseparable from
his flesh. Teeth ravaged him, lips wandered him, a wild tongue
prodded him, bringing him to a place he'd known before, a place
where reason and insanity were one. He resisted the urge to
scream as radiance permeated his body, magnified, drawn back
inside and shoved out again, glorified by his arched back and
aching want. He shouted Qui-Gon's name, angry, defiant,
inconsolable, desolate.
//And I wonder
Do you ever feel the same?
In whispering darkness,
Do you ever hear my name//
Obi-Wan.
//Here in the back of your mind//
I am here, beloved Padawan. Always here.
//How did you do that...
To become so real?
You're not just a ghost to me//
"Master?" Groggy, Obi-Wan reached out with his mind and
found...
Nothing.
He was alone in this world, and it was not real...none of it
was real.
The bitterness of reality flung him back into his pain, out of
the numb passivity he'd been inhabiting.
There would be no escape, then, no way to climb out of this
trap he'd been snared in.
Obi-Wan sat up on the bed, wondering suddenly what kind of
night Anakin had passed. It was his duty now, to be there for
the boy. He felt a tugging at the corners of his sadness, knew
it was the child he'd sworn allegiance to as his Master lay
dying in his arms. He called the boy to him confidently as he
pushed himself off the bed, feeling his Padawan braid brushing
against his neck.
//Deep in the back of your mind//
The soft hair woven through the long, velvety braid stroked
across his neck like a caress. The calm which entered him then
was surreal, more than his own, yet of his own summoning. He
took hold of the braid, rubbing it between his fingers on this
last morning he would ever wear it. Deeply certain, Obi-Wan
smiled suddenly, understanding much, afraid no longer,
obedient.
"Yes, Master."
End. 6/30/99
Author welcomes and encourages all feedback at
destinaf@hotmail.com
Archive 