Feedback: yes, please, but email only. I might go on if I'm
encouraged even a little bit!
Disclaimer: I forgot to include this in part 1 (Bubbles) -- I
don't own any of this. George Lucas is God. I'm just having a
little fun with them.
Thanks to my Rabbit for the semi-beta, but all errors are my
own fault.
Confusion
The next morning came far too quickly. Qui-Gon squinted at the
sunlight streaming in through the window. He usually awoke at
dawn, but it had to be at least two hours later than that.
"Are you awake, Master?" The voice seemed strangely muffled.
Qui-Gon looked around to see his student. Obi-Wan had moved the
low table aside and was practicing a handstand in the middle of
the seating area. It was almost perfect.
"Keep your legs straight, padawan. You're leaning a little to
the left... Yes, that's much better."
Obi-Wan was awake ahead of him and diligently practicing
something quiet? What other wonders would the day bring?
They broke fast together, drinking tea and eating bread and
fruit. "Did anything interesting happen in the Council meeting
last night? They kept you away for an awfully long time."
Obi-Wan finally broke the companionable silence.
"Not much that would be of interest to you." //Or to me,// he
added silently. "We spent most of the evening discussing
recruitment statistics. I'm sorry I had to miss our saber
practice." The Master thought for a moment. "If it would please
you, we could practice now. I do have this morning free."
The apprentice grinned. "What's left of the morning, you mean,"
he said, pointing to the chronometer.
"By the Force! I had no idea it was so late! Why didn't you
wake me earlier, padawan?"
Obi-Wan folded his arms across his chest and gazed tolerantly
at his master. Something very much like fondness tugged at the
edge of his smile. "You really needed the sleep." The smile
turned impish. "Besides, if I'm to get a good workout, I need
you in top form!"
"Brat." Qui-Gon savored the endearment even as he said it. "I'm
not that old, scamp." He waggled an accusatory finger at his
student. "You are just overly young."
"Yes, Master." The padawan quickly schooled his face to solemn
blandness, but the twinkle in his eye remained.
Qui-Gon's breath suddenly caught in his throat. Something he
had wanted to say for a long time finally found voice. //Don't
ever change, Obi-Wan. Don't ever loose this exuberance. You
must learn to temper it with patience and wisdom, but don't
ever give it up.// It suddenly seemed very important to
him that his student understand the depth of his feeling. He
shuddered, imagining other Masters creating clones of the
stiff, protocol driven members of the Council he had seen last
night.
//This is the way the Force should flow, my Padawan. Not
through ceremony and protocol, not through blind obedience to
the Code. When the time is right, it will flow from your
heart.//
Obi-Wan heard his sincerity, and understood. "Yes, Master." He
met his Master's eyes and was momentarily stunned by the depth
of emotion he saw there.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes briefly, as if in pain. He was not
ready to answer the question he saw in his apprentice's face.
Calmness. "Go change for practice, padawan. I will meet
you there."
After Obi-Wan left their quarters, Qui-Gon quickly cleared the
breakfast dishes and changed into his own practice clothes. He
walked to the training room slowly, still wrapped up in his own
thoughts. He had to remember not to show so much emotion to the
boy. It was difficult enough as it was to sublimate his
longings into appropriate feelings of responsibility, duty and
affection. If he continued to wear his heart on his sleeve, his
student would undoubtedly pick up on it. He almost had, this
morning. The last thing he wanted to do was drive a wedge of
unwanted emotion between them now, when he had so little time
left to savor his apprentice's presence.
By the time he reached the training room, his mind was
reasonably composed and his shields were strong. The door
swished open to reveal Obi-Wan already deep into the third
level of solitary practice. Qui-Gon leaned against the wall of
the large practice room, watching his student analytically. His
moves were lightning fast and devastatingly precise. His
balance was good, but could be better. That's what we will
tackle today, then. We both need to work on our balance.
Silently, Qui-Gon stepped up behind his padawan. His light
saber hummed to life under his hand. Its hiss was the only clue
Obi-Wan had that his master was about to join the exercise. In
a fluid motion, green met blue.
Sparring like this was always a joy. Obi-Wan was so nearly
matched to his own skill level. Spin, duck. Defend, attack. He
knew the other's moves like they were his own. There was no
conflict, only synergy and control. They danced together
through complex dynamic patterns of form and motion.
Time slowed. Their concentration made every heartbeat an hour.
Qui-Gon never felt more alive; he could have lived in this
moment forever. Duty called, however. There was a lesson for
them both to learn.
Reaching out with the Force, he felt his student's mental
shields. They were smooth and unbreachable. Good, good.
However, there were other ways to bring one's opponent off
balance with the Force. He wrapped a tendril of power around
his student's ankle and yanked.
Obi-Wan saved himself from sprawling only by a complicated
mid-air twist suggestive of an Indarian eel. As he lay on the
ground, emotions passed over his face - shock, disbelief, and
finally wry acknowledgment. He took the hand proffered him and
rose in a fluid motion. Bowing to Qui-Gon, he said, "My
apologies, Master. I was not paying sufficient attention to my
equilibrium."
"Very well, begin again."
Half an hour later, it was Obi-Wan who landed his Master on the
mat. Qui-Gon looked up to see his student standing over him
flushed with exertion and glowing with pleasure in his
accomplishment. His eyes were preternaturally bright, his lush
lips parted.
Lust hit Qui-Gon like a sledgehammer. Some enormous shadow
seemed to stoop over his vision and his blood roared in his
ears. He lay gasping for air in a room suddenly devoid of
oxygen. In a split second of utter clarity, he witnessed the
destruction of everything he had ever wanted in his life.
He closed his eyes and wished the ground would swallow him
whole. There was no way Obi-Wan could have missed that mental
broadcast, nor the physical signs of arousal that still
lingered after shame replaced lust. His body was still attuned
to his student. He knew the instant Obi-Wan knelt by his side.
"Master? Are you all right?"
There was no censure in the voice. Steeling all his courage,
Master Qui-Gon Jinn opened his eyes to see only honest concern
on his student's face. //No reaction, my Padawan?//
//None is needed. Your feelings were not unknown to me. I am
only concerned for your well-being.//
Real shame shook him then. Had his emotions had been so
transparent? Had he been proclaiming his twisted fantasies for
all to see?
A hand was placed on his chest. In a low, urgent voice, Obi-Wan
said, "Master, please be calm. There is nothing to be worried
about. Come back to our rooms with me, and we will talk about
this."
Qui-Gon was startled to find no disapproval at all in his
student's face. In thirty seconds the apprentice had somehow
gained all the equanimity and self-confidence his master had
lost.
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