SUMMARY: Obi-Wan/Qui-Gon. Adult language, sexual references.
Humor/Parody, Post-TPM. After Qui-Gon's death, the Jedi master
returns to Obi-Wan, who isn't as happy to see him as you might
think.
NOTE: All of my stories are available on my website
(http://www.europa.com/~mercutio/Stories.html)
ARCHIVE: Please. As often as possible, and wherever you like.
Obi-Wan knelt over his master's dead body, still holding him.
"Noooo!"
How can this be? How can you be gone? How can I live
without you? And what am I supposed to do with a padawan,
anyway? You still haven't taught me how to braid my own
hair!
The overwhelming sense of loss hurt. Terribly. He needed his
master. He needed Qui-Gon. Needed to spill out his heart and
confess his love for the other Jedi. Reveal his passion, and
all of the naked pastel sketches he had made of his beloved
Qui-Gon.
Perhaps Qui-Gon would have appreciated them. Perhaps he would
have approved of Obi-Wan's obsession with him. Perhaps Qui-Gon
would not have sent his padawan to the Sexual Revulsion Therapy
course hosted monthly by Yoda.
Obi-Wan shuddered at the thought, but it did not matter. It
was too late now. He could never tell Qui-Gon how he felt. His
master was dead.
"'There is no death; there is the Force,'" he said bitterly to
himself. "What a crock."
Something tugged hard on his braid. Now, padawan...
"What?" Obi-Wan jumped, and turned. He'd just heard... heard
Qui-Gon? How could that be? Qui-Gon was dead! And he really
really wasn't into necrophilia, although he had to admit it had
crossed his mind in the past several minutes.
You never did listen very well, padawan.
Well, this was his chance. He looked at the very alive
Force-ghost standing in front of him. The very alive, very
naked, very adolescent Force-ghost.
"Master?" he asked, disbelieving his eyes.
Yes, Obi-Wan?
"Why are you only wearing a loincloth?"
His master... or his teenage twin... was wearing little more
than a patch of cloth and a smile. Not that this wasn't one of
Obi-Wan's dreams come to life, but he'd really been expecting
to see the umm... mature man he'd come to know, not some
snot-nosed brat that kind of reminded him of Anakin.
Why, the better to seduce you with, my padawan.
Obi-Wan felt the distinct urge to smack his master. "What the
Sith are you talking about?"
The ghost shrugged. You want me, I've got time, let's do
it.
Obi-Wan reached out to the ghost, hand passing through the
figure with a tingle of midicholorians. "Um..." he said,
finding it difficult to believe he was actually considering it,
"I can't touch you."
I'm not thinking about this. I'm not thinking about this.
Yes, I am. So I'm thinking of it. But he's so cute.
Eww.
The ghost frowned. Oh, bother. Well, perhaps we can think
of something. I promise that I have some very naughty fantasies
that I'd love to share with you.
"Right now??"
Why not?
"Because we've got a planet to save!"
The ghost shrugged. Doesn't matter. Naboo's going to the
Sith hells anyway. Just remember to kill Anakin and Senator
Palpatine, and you'll be all right. The future will muddle
along as it must after that.
"Kill Anakin? You just told me to train him!"
That was five minutes ago. I was alive and fallible then.
No, kill Anakin and the senator, and everything will go
swimmingly.
"But, but..." Obi-Wan realized that this conversation was
going nowhere. "Look, you may have all the time in the galaxy,
but I've got a queen to save. I will do my duty."
He got up, ignoring the ghost, and ran out of the room.
Or tried to at any rate. "Sodding force fields," he muttered
under his breath as he came up against another of the glowing
red walls.
A hand settled on the center of his back, stroking down his
spine with a sensuous touch. Apparently Qui-Gon had no trouble
touching him. Why bother? The queen's attracted to little
boys, like Anakin. You don't stand a chance.
"I don't want Amidala! I just want to save her from the Trade
Federation!"
Already done. She saved herself without much trouble. Quite
an interesting young woman. I think I'd like to have a chat
with her.
And the ghost disappeared. Obi-Wan patiently waited for the
force field to drop, and got all the way to the third one
before being stopped again. That can't be my master. My
master had so much self-control. Restraint. I would have sworn
that Qui-Gon never had a sexual thought in his life.
It must be the ghost of the Sith. The Sith are of the Force,
they must leave ghosts too. It was just trying to confuse me.
Yes, that's it. I will keep the faith. Qui-Gon, my master, will
forever be enshrined in my memory.
By the time he stood at Qui-Gon's funeral pyre some time
later, Obi-Wan had almost forgotten about the ghostly Sith
vision. He'd put it out of his mind. Naboo had been saved, and
he had Anakin by his side. There were more important things to
think about.
Such as why the Sith had urged him to kill an innocent little
boy.
Not that Obi-Wan hadn't had similar urges.
He shuddered as he remembered being caught with the pillow on
the ship as they traveled from Coruscant to Naboo. He'd been
thrown out of his sleeping place in Qui-Gon's quarters to make
room for Anakin. Obi-Wan had been looking for a congenial bed
companion, and had to been forced to accept Jar-Jar's
invitation. Jar-Jar wasn't exactly bad per se, but
Obi-Wan had not been that pleased about having to sleep with
the Gungan.
Tongues were all very well, but those ears. That nose. Those
feet.
Obi-Wan didn't question why the Sith had wanted a
senator-now-chancellor murdered. While Chancellor Palpatine had
been perfectly polite after his arrival on Naboo, an
unexceptionable man who behaved with diplomatic courtesy at all
times, it was not difficult to understand why someone would
want a person in power to be killed.
But now was not the time to think on these matters.
He strictly disciplined himself, putting his attention back on
his master's burning body. The smoke forced tears into his
eyes, and Obi-Wan allowed his grief to show. To never have his
master there again. To be alone in such a way that he could
never explain, half of his heart torn away...
Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan. How quickly you forget. Perhaps you need
a reminder of how real I am.
And a hand reached up under his tunic, and made its way into
his pants. A hand that Obi-Wan devoutly hoped was only visible
to him.
He hissed under his breath, causing Anakin to look at him.
Obi-Wan shook his head quickly, diverting Anakin's attention.
Didn't want that, no. Not right now.
You are not my master. You are a Sithly creation,
attempting to torment me and force me from my chosen path.
Leave me alone.
Thankfully, the hand pulled back. Instead it went to his head,
stroking through his hair. You doubt me?
The voice sounded hurt. Very hurt. Surely he couldn't hurt the
feelings of a Sith.
Yes. Go away.
I don't want to go. I want to be with my Obi-Wan forever. I
don't have to leave now, you know. There's no reason why we
should ever have to separate.
Prove that you're Qui-Gon, or I'm going to Yoda right now
and have you exorcised.
How cruel, the voice pouted. Very well. Do you
remember that night? On Endor? When you came back very
late to our temporary residence among the Ewoks?
It could just be a good guess. What about it?
I saw that tattoo on your ass. The one they'd made with
their little sticks. You were very lucky that the juice they'd
used to stain it with wasn't permanent. Or unlucky. I wanted to
bite it so much.
Master! he gasped.
Like I said, Obi-Wan. Don't you trust me?
At the moment? Why do you ask?
Oh, I don't know. Because I'm here and you'll never be
alone again?
Obi-Wan felt the hand go under his trousers again, and knew
suddenly what the shape of the future was going to be.
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