Summary: returning to his duties after qui-gon's death,
obi-wan makes a discovery - but of what...
Warnings: spoilers for tpm. qualifies as speculation, i
suspect <g>
Notes: here's another one. hope everyone likes it. didn't beta
this time. feedback is good, public id better. i'm a junkie,
feed my habit <g> it'll get you more fic. and, in case
anyone here doesn't know this already: I LOVE MY SQUASH
(really, truly, deeply) love ya, babe, even if you're not here.
Four months.
Turning in his narrow bed, his mind registering the hum of the
transport's engines, the Jedi Knight once again felt his loss
too keenly to deny it.
Four months ago this day he and his Master had faced a Sith in
combat, and Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn had died.
Leaving a legacy that included a strangely powerful little boy
and his Padawan apprentice's aching heart.
At first the ache had been bearable. He'd been too busy with
the initiation into his new duties as a fully-fledged Jedi
knight, a flurry of testing and lectures and lessons from
Council members and other Jedi. He had known the rule of
challenge but had arrogantly never expected it to apply to
himself.
For the first year of new Jedi's life any other Jedi could
stop him and question him on any subject they chose. The intent
was not to make him crazy, as he had begun to think, but to
establish his readiness to think on his feet and his ability to
control his emotions, especially the frustration that these
encounters often caused.
And then there had been Anakin to deal with. There had been a
delay entering him into the Jedi academy while the Council
debated whether or not the freed slave, who was so powerful in
the force, would not be placed with one of the old Masters for
a time before joining the other children in training. Obi-Wan
had been relieved that it had never been a question of removing
the boy from his sponsorship, because that would have broken
his promise to Qui-Gon and he would have been forced to fight
it.
Flipping over again on the bed, feeling the bite of cold metal
beneath the thin blanket he lay on, he pillowed his head on his
folded arms and sighed.
In the end they had decided that Anakin would follow the same
path as every other apprentice, padawan or no. He would attend
the academy and be given extra classes to make up for his late
start, and when his time there was finished he would join
Obi-Wan, just as Obi-Wan had joined Qui-Gon.
But that time would be years coming. He would have to show up
at the academy when notified, for others tests and training
sessions and to celebrate those victories in a young
Jedi-to-be's life...
The thought made him sit, too quickly, and he banged his head
on the too-low ceiling. The room was barely more than a storage
closet, but to was the only place on board that the Ri'Chik-
Chik had to give him privacy. A race of small rodent-like
mammals, they lived in communal dens on their three planets and
this was reflected in their starships. Each one was a single
large den, holding a hundred or more, and they slept in warm,
furry piles on the softly padded floor of a single large hold.
Working in four shifts a day, there was always at least one
full shift of them sleeping at any one time, and on rest days
it was a sea of writhing, snuggling, engulfing fur that Obi-Wan
had no desire to be a part of.
This was the first time the Ri'Chik-Chik had requested Jedi
assistance, to track down a slaver ship that was stealing
people from their third and least well-established planet and
selling them on non-republic worlds. Obi-Wan's job was
reconnaissance on the planet itself, others were handling the
tracking of the slavers, but he was still honored by the
assignment, even if it meant going in secretly in a battered
transport that usually hauled agricultural products. And they
had done their best to make him comfortable, setting up this
small room for him, where he could be alone to meditate and
sleep in privacy.
Now laying back, he rubbed his head with a hand and sighed,
rueful. The room was no more than six feet wide and barely that
tall, and the bed was a shipping platform pressed into service.
But with so many people to care for, they were poor in
republican terms, he wasn't about to criticize the
accommodations. He and Qui-Gon had slept in far worse places...
With a sigh he turned over again, resigned to suffering
through his memories.
"Are they so painful, Padawan?"
Blinking, he sat again, and again banged his head, muffling a
curse that leapt to his lips.
Hitting the switch for the lights, which were pretty dim to
begin with, he looked around the barren space and saw that,
yes, he was alone.
Perhaps he was losing his mind.
His Master's voice had spoken in his head at least once a day
for the whole of these months, but never so clearly as this,
like he was there in the room with him.
It took great effort but he managed to bite back the tears
that threatened. He had cried when Qui-Gon died, and cried
again after the funeral, and that was enough crying as far as
he was concerned. But it was hard not to.
Curling over on his side this time, he indulged himself in a
memory.
Once, when he had been very young, and Qui-Gon had become
frustrated with his impetuousness, his Master had set him a
seemingly impossible task; to count the flowers in a field. And
not all of the flowers, but only a particular kind among the
tens that bloomed that summer day, a small pink flower,
six-petaled, that smelled sweet. The legend on that planet was
that this flower should be offered as a gift when seeking a
mate.
At first overwhelmed, Obi-Wan had attempted to count them
manually, spending the afternoon walking around the field,
trying to do with his body what he should have been doing with
his heart. His Master had let him try, and then, the next day,
had gently tied his feet together to prevent him from walking
around.
How he had complained!
"Master!" He had said, whined, really. "How can I count them
when I can't see them? Do you want me to fail? Is that what
this lesson is to teach me?"
With a smile Qui-Gon had just as gently tied his hands and
then sat beside him in the meadow while Obi-Wan had grumbled
and complained, until he accepted that he wasn't going to get
out of this. An apprentice was supposed to learn and a Master
was supposed to teach, in whatever manner he chose, although
the young man couldn't picture any other Master - say, Master
Yoda - binding his apprentice in a field and expecting him to
count flowers.
After an hour or two he was feeling stiff so he moved to lie
down, and Qui-Gon's hands moved to help him, the touch
impartial but affectionate, as always, easing him back until he
was stretched in the warm grasses.
The bindings were not tight and it would have taken only a
little effort on his part to remove them, his command of the
Force was delicate enough even then to manipulate the loose
knots in the soft rope. By choosing to remain bond, even in
that token fashion, he was agreeing to complete the task his
Master had set before him.
Soon after Qui-Gon had lay beside him, only inches separating
them, his arms folded casually over his chest, eyes closed,
breathing deeply. Turning his head, Obi-Wan studied him as the
sun moved over them.
It was a long day, lying there. Mildly thirsty, he put it from
his mind and concentrated instead on the sounds around him and
the smells of the pretty meadow. At some point he thought he
dozed, but meditation crept up on him and when he snapped his
eyes open again he felt cleansed, and refreshed, and the Force
was vivid around him. There were darkening shadows in the sky
when he spoke at last.
"Master, what are you doing?" Because it was clear that
Qui-Hon was neither sleeping nor meditating, his brow was
furrowed in concentration, a tightness around his eyes.
"Counting flowers, Padawan."
"Why?'
"So when you are done I'll know if you are accurate." A smile
creased the still face and Obi-Wan was silent again.
Counting flowers? How? With his eyes closed, unmoving...surely
the Force....
A wash of giddiness rushed over him as he realized that, yes,
that was exactly what his Master was doing. If the Force felt
differently in every sentient being, then why not in every
other living thing? Would the pink flowers feel the same as the
red? Or the yellow? Would they feel the same as the grass or
the trees?
A world opened around him as he began to explore the
ramifications of this epiphany. This was what Qui-Gon had been
trying to teach him when he said that everything was connected
and that every action he took would affect everything around
him. This was what he could see if he would just open
his inner eye and allow it.
It took some time longer to sort it all out, but his control
of the Force was delicate and he soon discovered that he could,
indeed, tell one flower from another without seeing or touching
or scenting them.
When the twin moons rose overhead he smiled up at them,
foolishly happy, and gave his Master the answer.
"There are four hundred and eleven of the pink flowers,
Master, in bloom and another two hundred and sixty-three in the
bud."
"I got four hundred and ten." Lifting his head, Qui-Gon stared
over at him.
"I counted the one that's stuck in your hair." Obi-Wan laughed
softly as his Master's hand went to the long hair, flipped
above his shoulders to avoid pulling, and tugged loose the
crushed blossom.
"I must have missed it." Rolling easily to his feet, he had
waited for a moment while Obi- Wan removed his bonds and handed
them back. "Hungry?"
"Starved." The teenager answered eagerly.
"You have done well, Padawan." His Master praised with a cuff
to his head. "I am well pleased."
Praise was sparingly given and to be treasured, and those
words had warmed Obi-Wan from the inside out as they walked
back to the settlement.
This night, unable to sleep, on the uncomfortable little bed
in the cramped little room, listening to the rather
disconcerting whine of the starship's engines, Obi-Wan heard
them again in his head and they soothed him into much-needed
sleep.
A sudden crashing sound brought him out of that sleep
abruptly. Rising from the bed, already reaching for his
lightsaber, he spun around as the door crashed open and a pod
of Ri'Chik- Chik stumbled in, chattering wildly.
"The ship goes down! The ship goes down! Must leave now,
Honored one!" Small hands - paws? - grabbed at him and tugged
at him, pulling him out of the room into a equally cramped
corridor.
"The bridge?" Turning that way, he was startled when they all
pulled hard at him in the other direction.
"Abandon ship! Emergency shuttles this way!"
"What happened? Was it an attack?" Reaching out, he felt the
disturbance in the Force, but it seemed to be a strictly
engineering problem, there was no menace or deliberate threat.
The worn engines had simply chosen this time to end their
service and there was nothing he could have done to predict it
or protect them.
At a run they traveled down the corridor, Obi-Wan crouched
low, wishing he had grabbed his boots, his cloak dragging the
floor behind him. he had learned the trick of making it lift
and flow from Qui-Gon but that didn't seem important now, it
was only another facet of the Jedi mystique that they used to
make themselves look the way they should. He had been
disappointed to learn that cloaks didn't somehow magically do
that on their own.
"First you must control yourself, Padawan. Then you control
the space around you. Beyond that lies everything else, but
without those you cannot hope to reach it."
Turning his head as he ran, actually looking for his Master,
Obi-Wan automatically reached into the Force and touched his
cloak, lifted it, letting it billow behind him as he ran, which
had the added benefit of keeping the others from tripping on
it. So it was not only a vanity.
Reaching the flight deck he saw that the doors were jammed
with dozens of Ri'Chik-Chik trying to reach the shuttles.
Slowing but not stopping he threw a hand out and forced the
doors completely open, giving them room to proceed, gently
pushing the stragglers through, making a path.
There were plenty of shuttles but he waited, adding his own
strength to them as each one fell out the open deck doors
through the forcefield that shielded them, giving them an extra
push of momentum to help them escape the dying ship's
boundaries.
The whine of the engines was growing louder as they reached
some critical level. Briefly he considered trying to stop the
impending disaster, but quickly decided it would be fruitless.
Not even Master Yoda could contain such an explosion as was
bound to come, he would be better off getting out with the
others.
Then there was only the captain, a small cinnamon-colored
being with large green eyes, and the ambassador, a darker male
who urged him relentlessly into a shuttle - alone.
There were others left, he wasn't deserting them, they had a
shuttle for themselves, yet the thought of being blasted alone
into deepspace was suddenly frightening and his hands shook as
he strapped himself to the too-small couch and held on. the
doors closed and the shuttle lurched and then he was falling,
spinning, breathing in slow, measured gasps as he tried to keep
his world upright in his mind.
Just as he felt the spinning slow and thought that he would
begin to drift it happened. The disturbance in the Force was
powerful and the little ship jumped so abruptly that his head
banged back on the wall behind him, above the padding designed
for a Ri'Chik-Chik, and he lost consciousness.
When he woke, with his head throbbing, Qui-Gon was sitting on
the floor before him.
"Master?" Obi-Wan gasped and immediately set himself to easing
his own pain, healing the gash on the back of his head and
easing the swelling that ached so.
"Padawan." The Jedi smiled his gentle smile. "Got yourself
into it, have you?"
"This isn't my fault." The protest was weak and half-laughed
as he remembered the number of times he had heard that exact
phrase when he was younger.
"No, this was purely chance." There wasn't room for the taller
man to stand, but he rose to his knees and rested his hands on
Obi-Wan's thighs. "Yet another example that the future is not
writ in stone."
"Are the Ri'Chik-Chik alright?"
"I cannot tell. See for yourself."
Cocking his head, Obi-Wan questioned his own sanity, and the
closed his eyes, reaching out. It only took a few seconds to
determine that there were no other living things within reach
of his mind.
"The explosion must have thrown me far into space." He
couldn't suppress a shudder. "I'll have to get the beacon
operating."
Releasing the straps that held him to the couch he carefully
stretched sore muscles and reached for the control panel, which
was built for small six-fingered Ri'Chik-Chik paws. It was dark
in the shuttle and it took him a moment to figure out which
level would activate the homing beacon, but as soon as he
pushed it down a small yellow light began to pulse on the
panel, in a rather comforting manner.
Then he sat back and studied his Master's image. Gracefully
Qui-Gon resumed his previous position, sitting back, knees bent
and elbows resting on them, hands clasped between them, staring
back at him.
"You've lost weight." His Master said, sounding sad.
"I've been distracted. Food has not been a priority." He
answered honestly. "Master?"
"Yes, Padawan?"
"Are you really here?"
"As close as I'm going to get." The long arms spread, fingers
touching the curved sides of the shuttle. "It is easier, here,
with so little interference. The Force is so strong that it
often prevents me from getting through to you."
"You mean you've been trying?"
Qui-Gon's face stilled.
"Would I not?"
Abandoning that topic for another, Obi-Wan took a deep breath
and words poured out of him, painful and dark.
"Oh, Master! I am sorry! I tried, but I didn't run fast enough
and the airlock cycled and you were alone with him...I wanted
to tell you so many things, but then it was too late..."
He would have thrown himself forward but there wasn't enough
room on the floor for both of them so instead he wrapped his
arms around himself and hugged tightly, seeking control.
"It was expected, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon said heavily. "I foresaw
the battle. It was wrong of me to approach you knowing my
future, but I had hoped the change things. I hoped to stay with
you."
"And now? Will you stay now?"
"I no longer live your plane of existence, Obi-Wan. I might be
granted an occasional visit, but I can't say how often or for
how long."
"This time?" Leaning forward Obi-Wan reached for the large
hands he had missed so badly, holding them tightly in his own.
"I will stay as long as I can." Qui-Gon swallowed heavily. "It
has pained me to see the burden you carry."
"Ease my burden, Qui-Gon." The name fell from his lips as he
fell from the couch, reaching for his Master's form, trusting
that he would be caught and held. And he was, secure in a
gripping embrace. "Oh, Master."
The tears surprised him, but apparently the older man had been
expecting them, for he held Obi-Wan and rocked him tenderly,
crooning nonsense and stroking his hair, which was already
growing out of the apprentice's cut. Against tradition he had
kept the long braid and it swung as he was rocked, the floor
cold beneath him and Qui-Gon inexplicably warm around him.
"I have missed you." he murmured, holding Obi-Wan so tightly
that his breathing was threatened but he could not, would not
object. "I have watched you and wanted you and worried for
you..."
"Love me." Pulling his face from the sanctuary that was found
in the hollow of Qui-Gon's shoulder, the young Jedi pleaded
with eyes and words. "Do not watch me and want me. Love me, as
you are here now."
"I should not." Gripping his shoulders, Qui-Gon held Obi-Wan
away from him. "It will not help you heal."
"Some wounds will never heal." The younger man countered
softly. "All we can hope for is an ease to the suffering."
"I am so very sorry." Pulling him close again, Qui-Gon pressed
his face into the sandy brown hair, arms around the slender
shoulders. "I did not wish to leave you."
"I forgive you." Obi-Wan said fiercely.
"Do not grieve for me - live your life." Hair spilled over
Obi-Wan's face as Qui-Gon nuzzled him blindly. "Promise me."
"I promise." With waves of emotion rushing through and around
them Obi-Wan was helpless to answer otherwise. Once again he
felt the true power of the Force as it sang triumphantly in
their bodies, striving to join them.
There was time and time to experience the feelings, this time.
Completely alone in the universe, Obi-Wan took his Master to
him once again.
"Touch me. Show me you're real." He whispered, hands slipping
beneath the tunics Qui- Gon still wore, the clean ones he had
been burned in. Warm flesh moved beneath his hands where he had
half-expected sparking energy.
"I will." Maneuvering them in the small space the larger man
worked his way around until his back was to an empty space on
the curved wall, and he extended his legs, pulling Obi- Wan to
straddle them, covering his lips with his own, the soft tickle
of his beard making the younger man giggle involuntarily before
the sensations sank in and amusement vanished in its onslaught.
Their bodies moved together with a grace they hadn't achieved
in their few days together. With Qui-Gon's hands strong on his
hips Obi-Wan adjusted his clothing, shedding cloak and trousers
to take his Master into himself. The first thing apprentice's
learned to control was their bodies and his opened to Qui-Gon
without effort, accepting him painlessly.
It felt strange and good to sit astride him and look down into
his wide eyes, darkened by need, his hands caressing the broad
shoulders and playing in flowing hair, thick and heavy.
"I have been with women, Qui-Gon." He sighed as they settled,
adjusting to the feelings this new level created, "But I've
never felt this close to them, even other Jedi."
"This is between us, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon answered, kissing his
face, licking at his ear. "Our bodies are merely metaphors for
our spirits - needed to establish the connection but not the
connection itself."
"I think I understood that." An irrepressible grin spread over
his face as he lifted himself on Qui-Gon's powerful shaft and
carefully lowered again.
"Of course you did." A smile fitted over Qui-Gon's handsome
face, quickly replaced by darker need. "Do not hurry."
"I won't." Even as he got the hang of it and lust hit him
hard, he was slowing down, drawing out the pleasure, reaching
for the bond that thickened between them. "You are here."
"I am here." Qui-Gon agreed, using one hand behind his head to
tilt his face down so he could kiss the smaller man deeply. "I
will not always be here, but I will always be here."
The contradictions of that statement escaped Obi-Wan for the
moment as he concentrated on the sensation of being filled,
felt the way delicate skin pulled and stretched and burned, all
of it adding to the fire that burned in his belly.
Time and time passed, the push and pull of desire and
excitement balanced, a thread pulled so thin that it became
invisible, a single filament in the web of life bound by the
Force.
When at last it snapped, recoiling into both of them, it
slammed them, throwing them around like puppets with no control
over their most intimate selves. Screaming, unable to prevent
it, Obi-Wan came, experiencing this orgasm like no other, not
even those first one he had sought alone when he was young that
had almost blown his mind.
Qui-Gon was silent and impressive in that silence, a vision of
man sculpted in eternity.
Afterwards they lay silent, shivering occasionally, until
Qui-Gon lifted his head from the floor and touched Obi-Wan's
face where it was pillowed on his chest.
"Your rescue approaches."
"Maybe they won't find me." It was sad and amused at the same
time. With both hands Qui-Gon sat them up.
"You have a mission to complete."
"Yes, Master." He nodded, solemn, and started to rearrange his
clothing, dressing himself with quick, economical movements as
Qui-Gon did the same.
Staying on the floor he sat pressed to Qui-Gon's side, the
cold of space beginning to seep into his bones. Or perhaps it
was another cold, one that wouldn't be so easily warmed.
With an arm around him Qui-Gon kissed his head and face and
neck.
"Beware the Subanyan." He whispered softly into the nearest
ear.
"On the planet?" Turning his head, Obi-Wan saw that Qui-Gon
was beginning to fade. "Master?! Don't leave yet..."
"I will be with you, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's wraith sighed. "Do
not doubt this."
Reaching for him Obi-Wan winced when his hands passed through
the nearly transparent figure. He could no longer feel the arm
that held him.
"Will you come again? Tell me you will come again!" He
pleaded, and demanded.
The fading face flashed him a smile, tender, the way he
remembered being smiled at when he was very young.
"Yes, young Padawan." There was a teasing lilt in Qui-Gon's
voice. "May the Force be with you until that time comes."
There was a gentle glow and Obi-Wan felt the touch of warmth
on his face, and then Qui- Gon was gone.
Gathering himself he rose and sat on the couch, feeling a
residual soreness he quickly decided to leave well enough
alone, and he waited for his rescue with the patience of Jedi.
It took many hours, the rescuers were still far from his
location, and he rested some, mediated some. The question was
in his mind but he didn't try to answer it, whether or not
Qui-Gon had really come to him or he had just experienced a
space-dream. It didn't matter, he felt as if he had loved his
master and in turn been loved by him, whatever plane of
existence the encounter had taken place on.
Leaning on his cane, the small green Jedi stared out over the
lights of the city-planet Coruscant, frowning. It made his face
wrinkle comically but there was nothing amusing in his voice.
"Wrong, it is. To cross over to play with him. Better of you
expected."
A disembodied voice answered him defensively.
"It was not my time, Master Yoda. We both see that. I would
not be here if it had been. The Force did not return me to
itself. The interference of the Sith into the Force disrupted
the balance and I paid the price. I will take what comfort I
can in this half-life the Force has cursed me with. "
"Not time? Says who, not time? Not here, not there, Qui-Gon,
only not."
"It is very hard, Master." Sadness welled in the voice, which
faded on the last words into silence. "I will try...."
When the last echo was gone Yoda thumped his cane once on the
floor and sighed, ears drooping.
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