Pairings: q/o (though i actually like j/k better....it's
aesthetically pleasing)
Status: new, complete
Date: 5-26-99
Archive: sure
Archive author: saraid (don't capitalize!)
Archive email address: saraid@wf.net
Series/Sequel: maybe a sequel...we'll see
Summary: um. missing scenes for episode 1? a different take on
the definition of padawan? you decide....
Warnings: none. you *know* this is m/m, that's why you're here,
you sick people <g> (and i'm the sickest of all
<g>)
Notes: i wrote this Saturday after seeing the movie for the
second time (i'd be seeing it tonight, but i can't afford it
<pout>) many thanks to wolfling for a couple of excellent
betas and, oh, btw, i like feedback. crave it. occasionally
demand it. public is fine. just say something about the story,
okay?! this is something of a departure for me, specifically in
that it isn't nc17... it just didn't feel right. maybe next
time :)
in sacred time
Tatooine was a harsh, violent planet; its people and its
weather reflected that.
Standing in the little living room, his back to the hallway,
Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn intently studied a small wall hanging
composed of braided and layered textiles in shades of grey and
lavender. Behind him his hostess entered, her presence subdued,
but he sensed it and turned around.
"It's beautiful." Hands clasped in the concealing folds of his
voluminous brown robe, standing square and tall, he nodded
toward the piece.
"It's what I do. Watoo exports them, he gets a good price. It
makes me valuable."
"Your value does not lie in what you produce."
"It does here." Moving past him she tidied the lumpy sofa, her
actions demonstrating her anxiety. "The storm will last all
night. The girl is sleep on Annie's floor on a pallet, Jar-Jar
said he wanted to sleep in the washroom, although I offered to
make him a bed..."
"This will be fine for me." Stepping past her, feeling
overly-large in the small room, Qui-Gon touched her shoulder,
wishing to ease the unrest he felt within her. A small smile
graced his features.
"It's very small." She shook her head and took a step back.
"There are other options. I would be flattered if you would
share my bed."
The statement was unambiguous, her offer plain. She waited for
a few seconds and then continued.
"It is hard to find someone, here. Someone unattached, someone
a woman could want."
Knowing that his emotions were clear on his face, Qui-Gon waved
one large hand through the air, a silent, graceful rejection
that he followed with words as quickly as he could.
"I am sorry, Shmi. I cannot."
The only physical response was the darkening of her sad eyes.
"Because I am a slave?" She wasn't asking because she thought
it was true, he sensed, but because she felt she had to.
"No." Striding forward, he closed his hands over her shoulders
gently. "Were you free my answer would be the same."
"You have a wife." She nodded. "I had heard that Jedi do not
marry - but there are many myths about you and they can't all
be true."
"No wife." He nodded, hands tightening on her. "But I am - not
free."
Tilting her head back, she stared at him and Qui-Gon saw
understanding dawn. It made him want to hide his face away, to
deny the truth she saw there, but he owed her this dignity and
so he did not, despite the pain it caused him.
"Then simply sleep in my bed." Her voice was soft, as if she
spoke to her young son. "Take comfort in the closeness of
another when the one you want is not here, and I will do the
same." Dropping his hands away he stepped back, answering with
his usual calm patience.
"I will, and I thank you."
She smiled at him as she turned toward her bedroom but he did
not move.
"I will be in soon." Watching her smile he regretted that he
had not come here to free slaves, because this woman deserved
that freedom. But this trip he had another mission. Going out
to the balcony, he half-sat upon the low wall, one knee drawn
up onto it, and opened a comlink with the cruiser. "Obi-Wan?"
"Yes, Master." His apprentice's voice told him that the younger
man had been waiting for the call and he smiled, eyes closing
briefly.
"Why are you not resting?" He scolded gently, anticipating a
response filled with amused indignation.
"The same reason you are not, Master."
Leaning forward slightly Qui-Gon rested his elbow on his knee
and spoke softly into the link.
"Rest now, young Padawan."
"Yes, Master." The same words came from Obi-Wan's mouth, but
with a completely different inflection. With a quiet chuckle
Qui-Gon closed the link and, after a moment of star gazing,
went back inside.
Anakin's mother was already in her bed. It was comfortable for
one but small for two. Slipping off his cloak, boots and
ovetunic, the Jedi was ready when she lifted the worn covers.
"The mattress is thin, but at least your feet won't hang off
the end."
"I have slept in cold mud and on stone benches." He answered,
sliding in, settling flat on his back. "This is a great
improvement over either."
A small pillow from the sofa had been placed for his head and
she leaned over him to tuck the covers in around him before she
lay down with her back to him, close to the curved wall. The
tension in her body increased as the moments passed silently,
the only sound the wail of the wind outside.
Extending an arm, Qui-Gon spoke roughly.
"Find comfort, Shmi Skywalker. Lie beside me and let me ease
your heart."
With no further urging she rolled over and rested her head on
his chest with a sigh.
"You are a kind man. Whoever has your heart is many times
blessed."
"Yes." He answered aloud, finishing the thought in his head,
the Force a quiet hum running through him, connecting him to
the woman he held and the man he loved. Yes, he is.
The pod race was an exercise in desperation. Watching it, then
not, Qui-Gon held his breath with the others and silently
pleaded that he not be wrong, that his vision of this boy had
been right. In front of him Shmi clutched the veiwscreen, hands
white with tension and shaking, the handmaiden tense beside
her.
Relief flooded him at the end when he saw that he had been
right, that this was the path, and he grabbed Anakin tightly,
lifting him high to celebrate. The rest of the day passed in a
flurry of calm, ordered actions while his mind seethed with
chaotic, disorganized thoughts that scampered through his mind
like disobedient children, refusing to heed his efforts at
control.
Seeking the peace of solitude, for meditation, to restore his
balance and quiet those thoughts, he found himself in the
hydroponics room of the cruiser after the takeoff.
Obi-Wan had done the right thing. Qui-Gon knew his apprentice
had been prepared to leave him behind to save the life of the
Queen, even at the cost of Qui-Gon's own. The realization that
he might never see his apprentice again had spiked through him
as he fought the strange, powerful attacker and for a span of
seconds he had despaired, losing touch with the Force and
risking everything with his negligence. Then Obi-Wan had
arrived and plucked him from the battle, proving Qui-Gon's
faith in him was justified, as he always had.
As always he did not allow his mind to explore memories of
another he had trusted - the reasons trusting this one had come
so hard. His mind, well-trained, veered obediently back on
course.
The need for connection had been strong in Qui-Gon as he lay
panting on the deck, when Obi-Wan had rushed to his side, but
Annie's presence had forced him to stifle it. It had become
difficult to do that and he had doubts that he would be able to
for much longer - yet another thought he needed to explore and
soothe away.
Safely in flight now, Anakin entrusted to Jar-Jar's care for
the night because the boy had developed an affection for the
boisterous Gunga, the Jedi Master had come here to breathe
growing things and meditate. Even the most advanced of
starships incorporated at least a small growing space, where
oxygen was harvested to replenish ship's air and carbon dioxide
could be slowly leeched from the system. This one was scarcely
ten-by-ten but two levels tall, with only room for two small
benches among the rampant growth on the floor beneath the
tiered layers of growing things that stretched to the ceiling,
with warmed lights beaming down on them like dull suns.
Clarity was a long time coming. There was so much to sort out;
his responsibilities to his apprentice, a growing certainty of
Anakin's place in the order of things, the feelings he sensed
from Obi-Wan himself. Was the apprentice ready? What about
Anakin? How did he, Qui-Gon, feel himself? If there were to be
changes made, which ones and who should initiate them? How
would the Jedi Council respond?
Very few Masters claimed their apprentices as Padawan, chose
them specifically. Most often a child was tested by the Council
and then matched to the Master that best suited their needs.
Padawan was a right held by every Jedi under the code, but the
tremendous level of responsibility, that bond demanded more
than even most Masters were willing to give. They thought long
and hard before seeking it out.
Qui-Gon knew he had leapt at the task with the same impetuous
recklessness that kept him off the Council and in the field at
his age, the same disregard for Council authority that had
influenced them in their decision to not assign him an
apprentice after he 'lost' his first. He had been past thirty
when he found Obi-Wan, a decade older than most Masters with
their first charge.
Many times since Qui-Gon had secretly thanked them for that,
because it had allowed him to find and claim Obi-Wan.
Kneeling in front of a small plasticrete bench, facing a wall
covered with greenery, careful to hold himself lightly,
unwilling to crush the grasses that cushioned the floor, he
felt the door open behind him and sensed the questions his
apprentice would soon be ready to ask. There was a rift between
them, they were both aware of it, and it was widening. His
denial of their choice had created it and increased it daily.
"You were only a baby, barely crawling." He said heavily,
unmoving, kneeling, hands on knees, head bowed, hair tickling
his face as it clouded his features. "Sitting in that room as
far away from the other children as you could get. Staring at
those terrorists like you could kill them with a look."
There was warmth at his back that shifted to his sides -
Obi-Wan had sat on the bench and now his knees touched his
Master's sides.
"You burst in like an avenging angel." The younger man
reminisced softly on events he had been too young to truly
remember but had experienced at a deeper level. "Dispatched the
terrorists and then snatched me away before I even saw my
parents."
"I should have waited." Turning, Qui-Gon resumed his position,
looking upwards this time, he found Obi-Wan leaning down so
that they were eye-to-eye, and hoped his thoughts weren't
showing in his eyes.
He had seen the future that day. Not the specifics of it, but
the one true path. There always choices, always other paths
available, many of them easier than the true one, but in this
case he had taken the hard road, despite the rarity of clear
vision in his life. The Council would not have understood, as
it wasn't one of his naturally-born gifts. They might have
accepted - Yoda might have accepted - that he had experienced
one pure moment of clarity, but that Master would never have
understood why he hadn't pursued the ability instead of the
object of the vision itself.
The vision of this young man, and himself. Some time like this.
"So you saved me twice that day." The young man smiled
crookedly. The long braid that he usually wore tucked behind an
ear hung in his face, dividing it. "From the bad guys and then
from my family. They would have suffocated me before I became
an adult. Each day with them I could feel another part of my
self dying but I was too young to put words to it."
Relaxing his stiff form slightly, Qui-Gon smiled briefly at
that.
"They did seem determined to turn you into a crystal farmer."
"Finicky delicate work you have to move so slowly to be good
at. I am thrice saved, Master."
Raising a hand, Qui-Gon touched his fingertips to Obi-Wan's
smiling mouth.
"No Master now, Padawan." His normally controlled voice shook
and he couldn't stop it, pulling his hand away, returning it to
his knee.
Hunkering down, voice hushed, Obi-Wan allowed the feelings to
rush through him and understanding dawned while Qui-Gon
watched, holding his own heart close.
"This is the sacred time?" Obi-Wan asked, an uncommon stillness
easing over him.
"If you want it to be." The Maser said simply. "I do not know
if it will come again."
"But it is here now." Exhaling sharply he reached for Qui-Gon,
hands closing over his Master's head and holding it tightly.
"It is here now."
"Padawan?" Very still beneath the unexpected touch, feeling the
depth of emotion that Obi-Wan drowned in, Qui-Gon mentally
cursed himself for letting this thing fester, gently grabbing
Obi-Wan's wrists. "Do you know what that means, to be Padawan?
When I lifted you into my arms the first time I saw it, more
clearly than I had ever seen anything. The paths were laid
before me..."
"To set me aside and go on your way." The apprentice spoke the
words as Qui-Gon thought them, eyes closed, reverent. "To
deliver me to the Council and let their will decide. To claim
me, seeing that this time might never come...."
"To claim you knowing that it might." Qui-Gon finished, opening
his eyes and meeting Obi-Wan's. "You have questions."
"Were you Padawan?" Quietly urgent, hungry for rare personal
knowledge of his Master's life.
"Yes. And No. I apprenticed as Padawan but this time never came
to my Master and I."
"Are you glad it has come to us?"
"Infinitely."
"Who was your Master?" The hands on his head tightened,
revealing the strength of this question as Obi-Wan's
well-trained mind did not.
"Master Yoda. I was the only Padawan he chose." Qui-Gon watched
as Obi-Wan, unable to stop himself, grimaced at the visions his
words created and Qui-Gon rose to his knees to speak with
gentle force.
"It is not the act that defines, my Padawan, but the bond it
creates. I longed for that time with my Master and despaired
when it did not come. The day I was accepted by the Council as
a Jedi I cried myself to sleep." He shrugged, mildly
embarrassed. "I was young."
"Then you found me." Smiling again, Obi-Wan leaned closer.
"Then I found you." Murmuring his agreement Qui-Gon ran his
hands up the strong young arms and stroked the muscled
shoulders. "And I saw I had a second chance - I had to risk the
path to reach it, but the Force guided me."
"Now we find each other." Sliding off the bench beside Qui-Gon,
who turned to face him, Obi-Wan was on his knees and reaching
for his Master, light shining in his eyes.
"Yes." Qui-Gon reached back, wrapped long arms around the
muscular young body and pulled his apprentice close. "Now."
Holding Obi-Wan in a tight embrace Qui-Gon was overcome with
emotion. Tightening his arms, feeling Obi-Wan's arms go around
his waist and hold on just as fiercely, he lay his cheek on the
short, bushy hair and closed his eyes, thinking briefly of Shmi
Skywalker, her quiet wisdom and enduring sadness.
"My blessing." He sighed, stroking Obi-Wan's back with a strong
hand. "I am blessed."
"Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan replied, sounding as if he were torn between
laughter and tears.
"Only Qui-Gon Jinn tonight, Obi-Wan Kenobi." The Jedi agreed,
making the man in his arms laugh out loud, pulling back far
enough to meet his eyes.
"You will always be 'Master' in my head, but now you will be
Qui-Gon in my heart."
"And you, young Padawan, will always be mine." Smiling widely,
feeling the air between them thrum with energy, Qui-Gon took
Obi-Wan's face between in hands and kissed him tenderly.
"The Force guides us in this." Clenching his hands on the older
man's waist Obi-Wan tasted the action with the tip of his
tongue.
"The midi-chlorians call for us to be joined, that they may
exchange between us. That is what it means to be Padawan - we
are matched in them." Qui-Gon kissed him again, more deeply.
Opening to him eagerly the younger man hooked an arm behind
Qui-Gon's neck aggressively and his other hand sought to slip
beneath the tunics his Master wore.
"Such enthusiasm should be tempered with patience." The Master
scolded gently, using his greater size and leverage to lay
Obi-Wan back into the grass, straddling him across the hips.
Heat and pressure met between them, muffled by layers of
clothing.
"You counsel patience and then race ahead." With both hands
sliding beneath the older man's tunics Obi-Wan countered
breathlessly as Qui-Gon divested him of his clothing.
"If there is a race it will be to see who is happiest in the
end." Distracted, Qui-Gon rambled. "I feel that happiness will
be mine."
"The happiness will be shared and the greater for it." Obi-Wan
rebuked gently, his fingers finally stroking warm skin.
"You have learned well, Padawan." Finally freeing him of
clothes above the waist, Qui-Gon lifted his arms so Obi-Wan
could do the same, then slid down to lie atop him, weigh on his
elbows, hips between strong young legs. He leaned down to kiss
him again, one hand stroking short-cropped hair, loosening the
short tail at the back.
"One question, Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan sighed as they became
accustomed to this closeness, his Master's fingers gently
rubbing at his scalp.
"Yes, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon paused, warmed by the smile that
flitted over his apprentice's face.
"How long will these negotiations last?"
Moving suddenly, grabbing the smaller man into another tight
embrace, Qui-Gon rolled them over, crushing ground-cover plants
ruthlessly, landing with Obi-Wan on top of him, face again
cupped in his Master's capable hands.
"A night or a lifetime, Padawan. As long as you desire."
Staring down at him Obi-Wan ran his hands over the bare chest,
lightly dusted with greying hair, and answered slowly.
"The Force is with us in this." He marveled quietly.
"The time for words is past." Qui-Gon's voice was becoming
hoarse. Instead of answering verbally Obi-Wan leaned to kiss
him, controlling it this time, taking the lead while Qui-Gon
rejoiced at his willingness to do so.
The time for words was indeed past and they spoke with their
hands and tongues and bodies, a language older than time and
more expressive than thoughts. Around them the Force trembled,
sending ripples into the galaxy that were felt by others, some
of whom rejoiced while others mourned.
Although Qui-Gon knew it was not the act itself that made the
bond, he was human enough to enjoy it completely, Obi-Wan's
surrender to him satisfying him on a cellular level. Hearing
his apprentice moan and pant his name, feeling the wild joy
that stampeded through him, the Jedi could only hold on, tears
leaking from his eyes as he dropped his stoic mask and gave up
control to the moment.
Obi-Wan met every demand Qui-Gon made upon his body and then
made a few himself, which led to the Master giving himself over
into the apprentice's hands, shockingly happy to give him
everything he was.
It lasted too long and was over too fast. Laying sluggish in
the aftermath, unable to draw breath fully, Qui-Gon held onto
his Padawan as tightly as his exhausted body could be convinced
to, touching him randomly, soothing when Obi-Wan added his own
tears, calming when he would have started again.
The future was clouded, paths obscured by chance and the
strange effect of Anakin's existence, but Qui-Gon believed
there would be other nights, a lifetime of them, in which to
finish what they had started here. There was a mission to
complete; the Council had to be warned, the future of the Naboo
and the young podracer loomed before them, so rest took
precedence over a repeat performance, despite continuing desire
to ignore all of that and hide in this perfect moment as long
as they could.
There was comfort to be found in closeness with another, but
Qui-Gon found that it was but a pale shadow of the comfort he
found holding his Padawan at last.
The pain was so sudden, so sharp that at first Obi-Wan couldn't
look past the words that had caused it.
His Master wanted another apprentice? Another Padawan?
After what they had shared, the discoveries they had made...
A glance at his Master's face, set in lines of determination
and anguish, convinced him of the truth.
This was the best path for them all. The severance of the
apprentice relationship would not sever the bond they nurtured.
Qui-Gon was convinced beyond reason that the boy Anakin was the
chosen one, a flicker of prophecy from the distant past.
So Obi-Wan stepped forward, excited despite his hurt, and added
his own arguments to the debate, only to be turned aside with
his Master.
So it was that their time on Corsucant was short and they found
themselves once again aboard the Queen's cruiser, off to war.
"We only have a few days." Obi-Wan sighed, holding Qui-Gon's
head to his chest. They were resting; sated, calm, the
lingering afterglow filled with the Force between them. "What
happens after this mission is complete?"
"There will be other missions." The Jedi spoke in measured
tones.
"Will we be together on all of them?"
"Not all, but there is no reason to think we would not be
together on many. We make a good team, the Council sees that
even if they are blind to other things."
"A very good team." The younger man teased with a wriggle and
Qui-Gon's hand tightened on his hip, urging stillness.
"Rest. Clear your mind. The Force is speaking to us and I don't
want you too distracted to hear it."
"Yes." Obi-Wan answered, smiling fading, becoming serious.
Closing his eyes, he tried to meditate but peace escaped him.
It felt so good to lie here and hold his Master as his Master
had held him when he was very small. Good but strange, as if
their roles had been reversed. It had been creeping up on him
slowly over the years, fragmented thoughts and denied
realizations, but now the truth was plain to him. Qui-Gon was
aging. A normal, healthy human process, yet dangerous for a
Jedi. If he could not join the Council - and, barring a radical
change of his beliefs, that was not going to happen - Qui-Gon
was going to remain a field operative until he died. Whether
that death came slowly in his sleep or brutally in battle might
be up to Obi-Wan, and he silently vowed to make sure it was the
first and not the latter.
"Obi-Wan." The whisper was so soft he barely heard it, so rough
it was hard to understand. His Master's body lay heavy against
his, warm and sweet-smelling weight of love.
"Qui-Gon." He smiled, lips pressed to the long hair, tangled
now from their activities.
"Yes."
Although no question had been asked, this was the answer he had
sought, and all the answer he needed. Laying back again,
settling under that welcome weight, he closed his eyes and this
time the Force sang within him.
They would go back to Naboo and attempt to free the planet, and
Obi-Wan Kenobi was secure in the knowledge that his Master
would always be by his side.
As the flames took his Master's physical form to the heavens,
the newly-made Jedi Knight stared at his own Padawan apprentice
in the flickering light. They had exchanged a few words during
the ceremony and Obi-Wan was concerned about the boy, but felt
he would have plenty of time to help him understand the
traumatic shocks he'd experienced these past few days.
In keeping his promise to Qui-Gon he felt that he was honoring
the older man's memory, but there were still doubts, in his
mind and in the Council's, about Anakin's suitability for
training.
But he had promised, and he would train.
Looking again to the fire, where Qui-Gon's lionine face was
obscured by flames and smoke, he let another truth surface.
Anakin Skywalker was his Padawan apprentice, but he would never
share with him what he had shared with Qui-Gon. The boy's
future was clouded, but his already growing connection with the
young queen was palpable. These early connections, formed when
one was just starting to understand the Force, were often the
strongest.
He'd learned that from his connection with his Master.
As the fire burned and people spoke in low, reverent terms,
Obi-Wan raised a hand and touched his cheek, where Qui-Gon had
last touched him. It still felt warm, his Master's love flowing
through him. As he closed his eyes and sought that memory he
felt the Force ripple around him. It went through him, binding
itself to the love he felt, the two entwining until they were
one.
Just as he and his Master had, physically and emotionally.
There was a sensation of warmth at the back of his neck and he
blinked his eyes open suddenly, half-turning, the movement
slow, and then there was a puff of air at his ear and he heard
Qui-Gon's voice.
"Always mine, young Padawan."
Craning his neck to search the crowd, his eyes were caught by
Master Yoda's. The green face was wrinkled into a frown that
cleared into a smile that beamed at him.
Turning back around, Obi-Wan saw that Anakin was looking almost
frightened, and he laid a hand on the boy's shoulder, giving
him an encouraging squeeze.
The Council doubted the child, he, himself, had objected to his
training, believing the Council to be right, but he trusted
Qui-Gon in ways he couldn't describe, even in his death. The
path ahead of him would be long and hard and there was no
guarantee it would end anyplace pleasant, but he would walk it
proudly, with his Master in his heart and his Master's legacy
at his side.
And though he sorrowed at being alone, he knew he would never
truly be alone again.
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