Summary: Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, a little angst, a little comfort
(slight TPM spoilers)
Archive: M-A, yes
Disclaimer: They're not mine, I'm poor, etc etc.
Feedback: Yes please -- good and bad, long as it's not too
harsh :) Thanks to Sarah for encouragement (see? I'm posting..
happy now?) and beta-ing.
Obi-Wan's muscles were so tight, it was hard to keep his knees
from shaking as he stood in the shower, the hot water pouring
over his naked body. It had been a long time since Qui-Gon had
worked him so hard. He'd had to practice endlessly at the
Academy, but it felt as if it had been years since a training
session had been that strenuous.
He couldn't understand what had gotten into his master. They
were due to leave for their mission to Naboo the next morning,
but it would been a routine diplomatic mission, nothing more.
Nothing to require such strenuous exercise. He smiled to
himself, thinking back on one of his last real training
sessions, when he'd still been barely more than a little boy.
Now that had been strenuous exercise.
"You must stop thinking so much." Qui-Gon's tone was as
patient as ever but Obi-Wan could sense the trace of
frustration in his master's words.
"I'm trying," he began, but Qui-Gon's chiding stare cut him
off.
"That would seem to be the problem." The older Jedi took the
lightsaber from his apprentice's sweaty hands and held it out
in front of him in the correct stance. "There, you see? Then
like so." In one fluid motion he twisted and spun, whirling
across the room, the blade flashing around him. With another
flowing spin he was back facing Obi-Wan. Wordlessly he held out
the weapon.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating on the rise
and fall of his chest. He opened them again. "I think I have it
now."
Qui-Gon took a step backward and gestured for him to begin the
exercise again.
The lightsaber shook slightly in the young man's hands. His
muscles were starting to tense up after the long afternoon of
repetitive motions but he was determined to complete this move
to his master's satisfaction.
As he hesitated, trying to relax himself enough to begin,
Qui-Gon stepped up behind him and placed his arms alongside his
apprentice's, clasping his fingers over the weapon.
"You seem to be trying too hard again, my young Padawan." His
body was warm and calming against Obi-Wan's stiff back and
gradually his muscles began to loosen. Qui-Gon drew his hands
back up along Obi-Wan's arms, slowly tracing his trembling
biceps with his fingertips, then reversed the motion until his
hands were once more covering the younger man's.
Obi-Wan's muscles twitched at his master's gentle touch. A
moment later, the tension began to drain away, sliding down
through his fingers until he could almost swear the lightsaber
was quivering on its own, his hands now perfectly still.
Behind him he could hear the smile in Qui-Gon's voice as his
master said quietly, "There. Put your tiredness and frustration
into your weapon. Your body must be as clear as your mind.
Trust the Force to guide you."
The warmth was spreading from his back and arms, up his neck to
the base of his skull, down his legs and across his belly. When
his entire body was no longer rigid bone and taut muscle but
loose heat, he felt Qui-Gon step back.
He held the lightsaber steady then leapt into the air, spinning
and slashing with easy, familiar movements until he found
himself standing on the other side of the room with lightsaber
held defensively in front of him, its glowing blade extended.
Breathing heavily, he shut it off then stretched
experimentally, surprised to find that his body felt better
than it had when he'd arrived for the day's practice early that
morning.
"Promising." Qui-Gon smiled at him from across the room, his
face serene. Tell-tale wrinkles formed around his eyes. "You'll
make a fine Jedi Knight if you continue like that, Padawan. I
think it's time for a break now."
"I agree. I'm certain my body is going to collapse in horror
when it realizes what it's done this afternoon." Obi-Wan hooked
his weapon onto his belt and walked over to follow his master
out of the room. He hesitated for a moment in the doorway
leading out to the courtyard, but when Qui-Gon looked
questioningly at him, he just smiled and ran a hand through his
hair.
"I'd better shower."
"And you'll go to the room after?" Qui-Gon's voice formed the
order as a question out of politeness, but the implicit command
was still clear.
"Yes, master." He waited until Qui-Gon had left the training
facility before entering the small shower room. Moving quickly,
he stripped off his robes and folded them neatly on one of the
shelves beside the door, and hung his lightsaber from a hook
next to them. Beginning to feel the cold of the
starkly-decorated room, he stepped into a cubicle and selected
a nozzle before pressing the button to start the shower. With
the wide range of races who trained here, the showers had to be
adjustable to many heights and temperatures.
As the hot water streamed over his body, sliding down his short
braid and running over his chest, he thought about the
automatic way he'd performed the exercise. It had been so
effortless, if he hadn't been able to replay the action of
every muscle he'd used to propel himself across the room, he
would have thought he'd imagined it. The sequence of movements
was clearly imprinted on both his mind and his body. Having
done it once, he knew positively that he would be able to do it
perfectly from now on. Still, he couldn't help wondering how
much Qui-Gon had helped him. Had his master somehow moved his
body through the exercise? The thought bothered him. He trusted
Qui-Gon with his life -- and had had to, in the past -- but he
didn't like thinking that he could be manipulated like his
master's personal puppet.
The shower turned off automatically and he grabbed a towel and
buried his face in it while the hot air jets whirred on around
him, drying him. After running a hand through his hair, he
pulled the loose strands at the back into a stubby ponytail.
Once dressed, he walked out of the building and across the
courtyard, shielding his eyes against the brightest sun, then
re-entered the shade and headed toward his room.
Qui-Gon was waiting for him, sitting on the floor in the small
space between their beds. He'd spread a small brown carpet on
the floor and was sitting cross-legged, eyes closed. He looked
up as the door slid open to allow Obi-Wan to enter. "If you'd
rather eat before we discuss this, I brought some food back for
you."
He'd known there would be no point trying to hide his worries
from his master, but Obi-Wan cringed at the words. Miserably,
he joined Qui-Gon on the floor. How to tell your master -- and
friend -- that you don't trust him?
"You must say what's in your heart, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon looked
calmly at him. "I promise you that I'll understand."
"It's..." He readjusted his legs beneath him. "It's just, well,
I was wondering how much of that -" He paused, unable to find
the words to describe the way he'd felt performing that final
exercise, "-was me, and how much was you?" He looked up at
Qui-Gon soberly.
"So you felt it. Good." Qui-Gon's eyes were closed again and he
looked like he was meditating. "We are a team, a pair, and as
such, our actions are one. We must learn to fight together, to
act in harmony. We must complement each other."
Obi-Wan frowned slightly. "So I wasn't really the one doing
that move?"
Qui-Gon's eyes opened and he laughed. "You were, and I'm proud
of you for it. You have talent. You still have much to learn,
but perhaps there's some hope for you after all."
His apprentice grinned at the sarcastic words, then said
thoughtfully, "But we won't be master and apprentice forever."
"True enough. But we'll always be a team, whether as master and
apprentice or as equals." Qui-Gon rose effortlessly to his feet
and waited for a moment while Obi-Wan untangled his legs and
stood up beside him. "And one day you will have your own
Padawan."
"If it means not being able to work with you, master, I'd
rather not," Obi-Wan said before he could stop himself, then
blushed.
Qui-Gon patted his shoulder, smiling at his discomfort.
"Someone must train the young. Now, it's late." He pulled off
his outer robes and climbed into bed, having left his boots at
the door.
Obi-Wan nodded, doing the same. He lay still for a while,
trying to imagine having his own apprentice. It was hard -- he
couldn't picture himself without Qui-Gon standing in the
background, offering words of wisdom and the all too occasional
encouraging smile.
The memories of his younger self that day, long ago, had
occupied Obi-Wan's thoughts throughout the evening. Now, as he
lay awake in bed, he found himself once again thinking the same
morbid thoughts. Some day, he would have his own Padawan, and
Qui-Gon would... he was never sure what to think, once he got
that far. He couldn't imagine Qui-Gon going on missions without
him. Couldn't imagine himself going on missions without his
master. He sighed. How could the fears of a little boy still be
haunting him?
When he heard his master's breathing become deep and rhythmic
he rolled onto his side to look at him. Qui-Gon slept compactly
to preserve warmth in the cold of space, although here in the
Jedi Temple it was unnecessary. Obi-Wan himself sprawled
ungracefully, limbs tangled in the blankets. He sighed,
watching the thin blankets covering Qui-Gon's body rise and
fall.
Unconsciously, his breathing shifted to match that of his
master. A wave of loneliness swept over him suddenly, spurred
by the realization that he would one day be alone and despite
himself, he felt a tear run down his cheek.
"Don't be foolish," he scolded himself, "You're not a child
anymore."
Still, he couldn't erase the image that had sprung into his
mind, as he finally succeeded in imagining himself without
Qui-Gon. He saw himself as a tiny figure in an overwhelming
landscape of nothingness, surrounded by brilliant light,
completely alone. The picture terrified him beyond all reason,
and he pressed his face into the thin pillow to stifle a gasp.
Suddenly there was a touch on his shoulder, and the mattress
sank on one side as Qui-Gon sat down beside him. "Padawan." The
word was no longer a title but a term of affection. "Obi-Wan,"
he whispered, "I promise you, I will never leave you for good."
Obi-Wan's shoulders shuddered and he kept his face buried in
the pillow, too embarrassed to face his master.
Qui-Gon had stopped whispering words and was murmuring
soothing, meaningless sounds. Now he eased his feet up onto the
narrow bed and draped his arm around Obi-Wan's body, sliding
down onto the mattress beside him.
His apprentice shifted to burrow his head in Qui-Gon's
shoulder. "Never?" he asked softly, his voice muffled.
Qui-Gon rolled back slightly and placed the back of his hand
against Obi-Wan's cheek until he looked up at him. "Never," he
repeated. He ran his hand back along the young man's cheek
until he cradled Obi-Wan's head, fingers interlaced in the hair
that had fallen out of its tie.
They lay still for a moment, feeling the heat building between
them through the twisted blankets. Obi-Wan reached up carefully
and touched Qui-Gon's cheek, his eyes still wet with tears but
now peaceful. "And if we're ever apart?"
"In the end, we'll be together for an eternity, " Qui-Gon
finished. He leaned closer toward Obi-Wan, intending to kiss
him gently and ritualistically, to brush his fingers across his
eyelids until his apprentice slept in peace, but when their
lips met, he found his kiss echoed by another from his
apprentice, and then another.
Qui-Gon allowed himself to respond, sliding a hand down
Obi-Wan's back, then pulled his mouth away reluctantly. "You
understand," he said, trying to draw his eyes up to meet his
apprentice's, to pull his gaze away from those barely-parted
lips, "that we may be separated? That things may happen to keep
us apart?" He didn't know why the words seemed so important, so
urgent, particularly when they had to interrupt this perfect
moment, but he felt compelled to make Obi-Wan understand.
The younger man looked as puzzled as Qui-Gon felt, but he
nodded and slid closer, winding his arm around his master's
body and sliding his leg over Qui-Gon's thigh. "Of course...
things happen." He leaned forward and brushed his lips gently
over the other man's.
He closed his eyes and sighed, then pressed his lips to
Obi-Wan's cheek. "Padawan," he breathed, "You must remember
this promise. If you ever think yourself alone, I will be
there. It may take time, but you must have faith that I will be
there. I swear to you, I will never leave you."
Obi-Wan felt the hot breath on his cheek and pressed his face
into his master's chest. "I know," he murmured, rubbing his
cheek against the soft cloth of his master's robes. "You don't
have to tell me. I trust you." He shifted and ran his hands up
the back of Qui-Gon's neck, his lips gently grazing the man's
collarbone. "I love you."
"And I, you," Qui-Gon echoed, pulling Obi-Wan up to meet his
lips, kissing him deeply, his large hands sliding around the
young man's waist.
Their bodies pressed together, limbs intertwined, Obi-Wan could
feel his master's heart beating in rhythm with his own. Eyes
closed, he could suddenly see Qui-Gon, mouth open in shock,
body still for an instant as he was pierced with a glowing red
blade, but with the warm hands on his back and the hot kisses
on his mouth and the promise echoing in his mind, the vision no
longer frightened him.
"An eternity," he breathed into Qui-Gon's open mouth, and all
he could see,eyes open or closed, was his master, smiling.
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