Disclaimer: the respective characters belong to George Lucas
and LucasWorld. I am not making any profit.
Archive: yes, to MA archive. (also posted in homepage).
Pairing: Qui/Obi, Qui/Xanatos.
Rating: PG-13.
Category: angst, h/c, POV.
Warning: none.
Summary: An answer to the Xanatos' braid challenge. Obi-Wan
finds the braid.
Title: Springcleaning.
I found it when I was dusting out the cluttered cupboards in
Qui-Gon's study. It was there, curled up and placed in a
dust-clogged corner. It was as if my Master had put it there
and forgotten about it.
It was black, like the color of night. I blew away the dust and
unrolled it. It unfurled, almost immediately, as if it was glad
to be free once more. I stared at it for a moment. The braid
was almost as long as mine. It had the familiar color of red at
its very end. I fingered it gingerly, feeling its texture under
my hand. The hair was fine, very fine. The owner of the braid
must have had long black hair...
Then realization slammed into me like a punch in the gut. I
swallowed hard and stared once more at the braid. A riot of
emotions began to bubble within me and I had to breathe slowly,
as to calm myself. The braid was his. I thought that Qui-Gon
had already exorcised him from memory. Apparently not.
I realized that I hated him. I remembered seeing him for the
first time. He was so tall, so good-looking that I envied him.
He was the man I wanted to grow up to be. He was self-assured,
confident. I remembered watching him walk and it was pure
confidence. He was also Dark.
I liked and hated him at the same time. Qui-Gon was upset
seeing him on Bandomeer. He was a painful reminder of Qui-Gon's
failure. I could see that he enjoyed seeing his former master
conflicted. He seemed to relish it as if he was drinking spiced
wine.
Should I now march towards the meditation room? Should I demand
for answers? I closed my eyes. What would Qui-Gon say when he
saw that...braid?
Instead, I placed the braid on the table and backed away from
it as if it was pure evil. No, it was a relic from the past,
like an ancient book or musty manuscripts. It was harmless. It
was only a braid. But the sight of it hurt and I felt as if
glass shards were rolling around in my stomach.
Why was Qui-Gon still keeping it? For memory's sake? For the
sake of remembrance? He had hurt my Master and the wounds still
lingered in Qui-Gon's psyche. They were still fresh when
Qui-Gon took me as his padawan apprentice. One part of Qui-Gon
resisted me because of him.
How could Qui-Gon keep something that constantly reminded him
of his failure? A Jedi Master's apprentice turning to the Dark
wasn't a glorious thing to remember. It was a slap to his face,
a smear in his reputation.
Someone coughed in the living room and I pretended to return
back to my dusting. Yet, my gaze remained on the braid of black
hair. The anger in me had faded away to a low burning sorrow. I
touched my own braid. It was the mark of my apprenticeship, an
outward sign of my Jedi allegiance. Qui-Gon himself had stroked
my braid one evening and kissed my cheek affectionately.
I always had this niggling suspicion that Qui-Gon loved him.
Not only as a father to his son. But something deeper than mere
paternal love. Jealousy doesn't become you, my logical mind
chided me and I cursed softly, throwing the small
feather-duster onto the floor in frustration.
He was a rival. I was perversely glad that he was now gone from
the Jedi Temple. Gone from my Master and me. I could see that
swaggering figure again in my mind. Black-haired, aquiline
features and a confident smirk on his face. I could still
remember his smooth velvety voice. It was a voice that could
calm children to sleep. It was also a voice of Darkness. Even
my Master...Qui-Gon...was drawn towards that voice.
If only I could be like him.
No!
He was an agent of the Dark. He was my predecessor. He was...
I couldn't imagine him in Qui-Gon's arms, being kissed
senseless. Instead, I imagined him taking command of
everything, even in bed. He was that confident.
Footsteps warned me of an approaching person. Then, strong arms
encircled my waist and warm breath tickled the nape of my neck.
I almost started and prayed that Qui-Gon hadn't seen the braid.
I smiled, looking into his blue eyes. No, he would not be hurt
anymore. No, he would be safe with me. No more betrayal. No
more failure. I wasn't him.
After Qui-Gon had left for the Council meeting, I gathered up
enough courage to pick the black braid. I carried it to the
burner outside our quarters.
Without a word, I dropped it into the orange flames. For a
shocking moment, I thought it didn't burn. It was indeed some
cursed Dark relic. Then, the ends caught fire and soon it was
engulfed in flames. Grey acrid smoke curled up and I coughed,
covering my mouth.
I imagined seeing a face, framed by dark hair, being covered
with fire...
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