Premonitions

by Bonny ( BonnyMagret@hotmail.com )

Archive: Master_Apprentice

Category: Drama, Angst

Rating: R

Pairing: O/Q

Warnings: Character death

Spoilers - none

Summary: Obi-Wan wakes up to find his fears realized

Feedback: are you kidding? Of course!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Lucas thought these guys up, and owns them entirely. I am just trying to bring them to life off screen

Authors Notes: Three cheers for Katbear, the intrepid, who betaed her beta (which can't be easy) and did an excellent job. Four cheers to Inya, whose knowledge of all things Jedi keeps me relatively accurate and for her guidance when I tend to stray or get discouraged. Special thanks to Jax for her final review. I get the blame for all tweaks – I just can't resist.

Obi-Wan woke up, sprawled on his stomach, a pillow clutched in his arms. He looked over the shoulder of the man lying beside him in the bed, out of the window to the pink-tinged sky that heralded the dawn. On Coruscant the artificial lights were a constant presence, so the planet's surface was never totally dark. Each morning, as the suns rose and the angled light reflected off of acres of transparisteel, the sky had a rosy glow that Obi-Wan quite enjoyed. It would fade into a pale yellowish shade and then to a hazy blue. The days were never truly clear for all the pollutants in the air, but Obi-Wan appreciated the color show regardless of its cause. He seldom got to enjoy the early morning light though, as he was not an early morning riser unless by necessity. There was no necessity this morning, so the unusual pre-dawn awakening left him slightly disoriented.

Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan noted, was still on his side facing away toward the windows. Of late, Obi-Wan would help Qui-Gon get into a comfortable sleeping position every night when they went to bed, carefully propping him with pillows between his knees and up against his belly. The next morning he would usually find that Qui-Gon had repositioned himself sometime during the night.

The old fool, Obi-Wan thought to himself for the umpteenth time. If he would just let the healers try to fix that bad hip he would be able to sleep comfortably. But Qui-Gon, stubborn as ever even in his old age, had as much aversion to healers now as he had had in his youth. If asked, Qui-Gon would reluctantly admit that he secretly enjoyed sporting the cane he often carried. Obi-Wan secretly suspected that was all an act. He believed that Qui-Gon's failure to have his arthritic hip healed had more to do with his fear of healers than it did with any vanity he might protest. That, and the sure knowledge that were he to submit to surgical correction of his hip, it would only be the first of many such surgeries as his joints and bones deteriorated. After all these years, Obi-Wan had learned to let Qui-Gon have his way when it came to his own health, so Obi-Wan had not interfered. It was still frustrating, though – to feel through their bond that Qui-Gon was experiencing pain but to have to bite his tongue on the issue.

So why had he wakened? Not to relieve himself. He felt only a mild urge from his bladder. Not even a morning hard-on like he usually experienced. It was much earlier than usual, though, so those things were probably a few hours off. He would have recognized a noise had one been loud enough to awaken him. He sniffed carefully. A faint odor of ammonia came to him, but with a window open on Coruscant, a myriad of smells often assailed the olfactory senses.

He looked at the mane of hair spread out on the pillow next to him. Qui-Gon's hair had been streaked with grey when they had bonded. Instead of turning fully grey with his advancing age, it had become a shiny bright silver. It caught the pink light and glowed softly. Obi-Wan yearned to reach out and pet the soft strands, but he did not want to waken his lover, who enjoyed few full nights of uninterrupted comfortable sleep these days.

Obi-Wan continued to puzzle over the riddle of his early waking. Had Qui-Gon inadvertently signaled a need for help through their bond? Had he moved or tried to move? Obi-Wan looked at his mate more closely.

Qui-Gon was still. Too still. Not moving at all. Not even the gentle movements of his chest that his sleeping breath would cause.

Obi-Wan searched for any sign of the change in their bond. That warm presence in his mind had been with him constantly since their bonding ceremony more than five decades before. He could note nothing unusual. As he searched, he watched. Still no movement.

With trepidation, Obi-Wan reached out and touched Qui-Gon's shoulder lightly. There was no response. "Qui," he whispered, still reluctant to awaken his bondmate but unable to tolerate the dread that was beginning to fill him. When there was still no response, Obi-Wan grasped the shoulder and shook gently. Again, no reaction. He could feel the warmth through Qui-Gon's sleep shirt. He let his hand rest on the shoulder for several seconds. There was no movement.

Gently, tenderly, reluctantly, Obi-Wan pulled on the shoulder, rolling the man onto his back. The slack expression gave him the answer he didn't think he wanted to know. Qui-Gon's jaw fell slightly open, a trickle of saliva trailing out of the far side of his mouth, his eyes not quite completely closed. Obi-Wan retracted his hand and licked his forefinger, then held it over Qui-Gon's mouth and nose. He could feel no telltale chill on his wet finger. He placed his ear on the center of the big chest, listening for the heart beat that had soothed him to his own rest many a time, but no sound was to be heard.

Qui-Gon Jinn was dead.

Tears filled the grey eyes and spilled down the weathered cheeks. "Oh, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan lamented, uncaring that his bondmate could no longer hear his words. He wrapped his arms around his beloved and pulled the body close. Now he could tell that the body was cooling, kept warm by the clothing and bedding that surrounded it, but no longer by the lifeforce pulsing within.

Obi-Wan lost track of time. He held and rocked and cried, wiped his eyes and cried again. He had always known that this time would come. Qui-Gon was so much older than him. As the years had passed, he had thanked the Force for letting them stay together. They had survived many battles, guarding one another's back. For the last ten years, though, their missions had been strictly as mediators, negotiators or as representatives of the Temple to events that required a Jedi presence. Their lives had been peaceful. But with the peace had come the sure knowledge that Qui-Gon would pass into the Force before him and that he would be left behind. So each day had been a blessing and a hardship.

No matter how much he had known that Qui-Gon's time was limited – his species rarely lived this long, or enjoyed such good health in these later years – Obi-Wan had never really let himself acknowledge that their time together was drawing to a close or that it was inevitable that he would survive and be alone for the rest of his days. That realization was no longer avoidable. The time had come. Qui-Gon was gone.

When Obi-Wan looked up, the pale lemony color of the sky was giving way to blue and his own body was demanding his attention. He went slowly to the fresher and relieved himself, then washed his face in the cold flowing water of the sink for several minutes. As he dried his face, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His own hair was white, thinner than it had been in his youth, with no trace of the red-gold color that had been his most noticeable physical characteristic. His beard remained full and thick, more silver than his hair. He kept it closely and neatly trimmed so that most of his wrinkles were hidden. While vigorous exercise maintained his physique, his eyes told his true age, even more so now that they were red-rimmed and watery.

Obi-Wan pulled away from the sight and moved like the old man that he was into the kitchen, putting water on to boil for tea. He tried to keep his mind blank, but that, of course, was impossible. What was he to do? What does one do in these situations? Who should he call? A healer? That seemed superfluous, since it was clear that Qui-Gon was beyond healing.

The kettle sang out, interrupting his thoughts. Obi-Wan poured the water over his tea, noting that, by habit, he had put enough water in the pot for two cups. Wryly he thought to himself that there were going to be a million little things that he had paid no attention to in the past that would now become different because he was a widower.

When the tea had steeped, he stepped into the common room. Everything looked just the same, just the way it had been left the night before. The cards they had played ten-spot with were still on the coffee table, with the datapad they had used to keep score beside them, as were two empty wineglasses. Qui-Gon's cane rested beside the sofa. Obi-Wan had helped him to bed and the cane had been left behind.

The sight of Qui-Gon's boots by the door brought fresh tears to Obi- Wan's eyes. Empty boots. Why did that have such a profound effect on him, he wondered, wiping his eyes with his finger tips. He headed into the bedroom to get a handkerchief. Qui-Gon lay in the bed, just as Obi-Wan had left him. Obi-Wan felt a bit lost as he stood beside the bed, a warm mug of tea in one hand, wiping his eyes with the other.

Qui-Gon looked peaceful. His death must have come quickly for no trace of pain remained on his visage. Obi-Wan sank onto the hard wooden chair that they had placed at Qui-Gon's side of the bed so that he could sit to dress. He cradled his mug with both hands, letting its warmth seep into his cold fingers, gazing lovingly upon his now-dead mate.

There was no hurry to do anything, he realized. It was their rest day. No one would notice that they weren't out and about. It would be a full day before they were missed or anyone came to look for them. For one of the few times in his life that he could recall, that seemed a real luxury to him.

Obi-Wan let his mind drift. Memories flooded into his consciousness. It was the same sensation that he felt when Qui-Gon shared something with him through the bond – a bright fullness, as if it flowed just behind his eyes. A little initiate smiling up at a very tall potential master – a young padawan falling again and again as he learned a difficult kata and his patient master helping him up time and time again, encouraging him to try yet one more time, assuring him that he would be able to master this exercise – a gentle teasing kiss, their first, when they had finally acknowledged their love for one another but years before they could do so formally – the blinding sunlight in the Council room when Qui-Gon had faced down the disgruntled Council members on some point of practice, Obi-Wan standing strong and ready beside his master – the sound of the waterfall in the background when they were finally allowed to make their bonding vows – the soaring of his heart he had not known he could contain the first time Qui-Gon had taught him how to make love – the soft sweet sharing of pleasure that their lovemaking had become now that the more vigorous positions were beyond their reach. The last had been just hours ago.

Obi-Wan smiled broadly, remembering the happiness they had shared just last night. Qui-Gon had been on his side and Obi-Wan had entered him from behind. When Qui-Gon's climax had come, Obi-Wan had held him tight in his arms, then moved easily to his own release shortly thereafter. Familiarity had only increased their pleasure with one another over the years. He couldn't say that all their lovemaking had been spectacular, because it hadn't been. But it had always been satisfactory, and that was what had mattered.

Never again. Obi-Wan still marveled that he could tell no difference in their bond yet. Clearly he had been dead for a number of hours, but it felt just as if Qui-Gon was merely sleeping. Maybe, Obi-Wan hoped, it would feel like this forever. Until he could join with Qui- Gon in the force. He looked up and saw Qui-Gon's lightsaber on the bedside table. With a twist and a flick of the wrist, a simple push on the power button, and Obi-Wan wouldn't have to wait. He could be one with his bondmate now and forever.

But he couldn't do that. He couldn't even even bring himself to contemplate it for more than a fleeting moment. It would be disrespectful to his former master to even consider such a thing. Qui-Gon had taught him the value of life and although his would be much less of a life than it had been, he would not give it up in such an undignified and unacceptable manner.

Finishing his tea, Obi-Wan set the mug on the bedside table. He sat on Qui-Gon's side of the bed, taking the now cool hand that had fallen off the edge, lax, into his own two warm ones. Oh, my dear sweet love, he thought, bringing the palm up, holding it against the side of his cheek, eking out the last of its warmth into his own body. Even such a loving thought could not keep him from noticing the chill on his bottom. Standing up, his sleep pants were damp in the rear. Qui-Gon's bladder emptied as his muscles loosened in death. That had been the odor Obi-Wan had noticed upon waking.

The accident gave him a purpose. He had a job to do. He would not allow anyone to see his beloved in an undignified state, and having wet on himself would have mortified Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan gathered a basin of warm water, Qui-Gon's favorite sandalwood soap, cloths and towels and set about removing Qui-Gon's soggy sleep pants and the shirt, pillow and bed linens. As each bit of skin was exposed, Obi- Wan lovingly washed, dried and kissed until Qui-Gon was clean. When he turned Qui-Gon to clean his back, he stopped short of cleaning his backside. Since they had made love the night before, his own semen was still there, sticky between the cheeks. He decided to leave this one last mark of himself on his lover's body. He rolled Qui-Gon onto his back and then he went about putting fresh linens on the bed.

When he had finished, Obi-Wan considered what he should do about re- dressing him. He almost didn't want to cover Qui-Gon, knowing that when he did so, it would probably be the last time that he would ever get to feast his eyes upon the sight of the still broad chest, strong arms and thighs, tapered waist and long heavy cock and scrotum. He felt guilty about wanting to have one last feel of the sex organs that had brought him such pleasure over the years, but he couldn't resist. He reached down and let a finger drift lightly down the sizeable quiescent length. For the first time since they had become lovers, the soft penis didn't leap to his touch. Oddly, that assuaged his sense of guilt. The lack of response to his touch had confirmed for him the death of not only the body, but the essence of his lover. Now he could dress him without regret.

Obi-Wan decided that what Qui-Gon would want was to be dressed in his regular Jedi uniform – dark leggings, cream-colored undertunic, tunic, tabard and sash. It took quite a bit of maneuvering because the body was becoming stiff, but eventually, Obi-Wan had dressed his bondmate. When he stood back to observe his handiwork, it looked like Qui-Gon had lain down to take a nap.

Obi-Wan left the bedroom and cleaned up the linens and bathing supplies. He made himself another mug of tea and a cut a small hunk of bread and a few pieces of cheese. He was surprised to discover that he was hungry until he realized that it was time for midmeal. He completed his repast then tidied the common room and kitchen, acknowledging that they would soon be filled with friends who wished to join him in his grief. But he still wasn't ready to share Qui- Gon with anyone quite yet.

Obi-Wan looked down and realized that he had yet to dress himself. He returned to the bedroom to do so, but stopped when he saw his beloved, laid out fully dressed on the bed. Again, there was no rush. No one would think ill of him for wanting just a little more time with the man who had shared his life and his bed for more than half a century.

Obi-Wan crept into the bed and approached the body. It was cool, but not cold, no longer supple, but not totally stiff yet. He moved Qui- Gon's arm to the side and laid his head on the broad shoulder, spooning his body up, conforming his position to gain maximum contact. He could feel just a little warmth left; he could share just a little of his own warmth. He pulled the afghan off the bottom of the bed where he had folded it earlier, and carefully tucked them both under the soft fabric. Just a few more minutes, just one last hug, just one last snuggle.

Obi-Wan awoke with a jerk. "Obi-Wan!" he heard. There was a large broad hand shaking his shoulder. "Get up. You're late."

"Huh?" Obi-Wan said, turning to the voice. He was alone in the bed. His tall strong bondmate was standing beside the bed and the look on his face was not gentle.

"What is the matter, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asked, shaking the shoulder again, a bit more roughly this time. "I left you to pack while I got the last minute instructions from the Council and I come back to find you taking a nap, for Force sake."

Oops. That didn't bode well. Ever since they had become bonded when Obi-Wan had become a senior padawan, Qui-Gon had been careful to call him by name rather than by title when they were alone together. The use of the title usually implied that the master had reason to find fault with the apprentice.

Obi-Wan jumped out of the bed and pulled his boots on, shaking his terrible dream out of his brain. "But we *are* all packed, Master," he said, but Qui-Gon had stalked out of the room, his cloak flaring behind him, leaving Obi-Wan behind. Obi-Wan followed as quickly as he could, grabbing up his own knapsack by the bedroom door. Qui-Gon waited impatiently by the door to their quarters, his pack slung across his shoulder.

Having hurriedly left the temple behind, Qui-Gon seemed preoccupied as they made their way through the streets toward the transport hangar, giving only curt nods to acknowledge greetings from several senators and Jedi as they passed. Curiosity is a powerful thing and it finally got the best of Obi-Wan. "Master," he said as he touched Qui-Gon's sleeve.

With only a shake of the great head, Qui-Gon brushed off his padawan. "Yes, Master," Obi-Wan said, acknowledging the rebuke and forgoing his inquiry. He tried to match his stride to his master's longer steps, fearing that he appeared to be scuttling along behind the taller man.

"This mission is particularly dangerous," Qui-Gon said in a hushed tone as they strode quickly into the hangar. "You must be fully aware at all times. We can't afford even a little slacking off this time. You do understand the importance of this, do you not, Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan dutifully replied.

"The Trade Federation's blockade of Naboo is causing the Senate great consternation," Qui-Gon continued. "And with good reason. There is cause to believe that there are forces behind this that are not readily apparent. Thus, you must beware of hidden dangers. I do want to impress upon you how very serious this is, my love. Master Yoda has told me of his premonition of great peril. We must guard our backs carefully at all times. Be mindful."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan again dutifully replied. But his heart was singing. He decided that his dream was his own premonition. Qui-Gon would die in their bed. They would have years and years of happy bonded bliss before that time came. Yes, he would be alone for the last years of his life. But he would have a wealth of good memories to sustain him before he joined his beloved in the Force.

They had reached the departure area and were waiting for the signal to board the transport. Obi-Wan reached out and took Qui-Gon's larger hand into his own. He smiled confidently up to his beloved, his own assurance bringing a smile to Qui-Gon's face. There was nothing to worry about. Heedless of Master Yoda's frequent warning that "always in motion the future is", Obi-Wan was convinced that this mission would go just fine.

An Ceann