Category: Um, up to the lovely archivist. I can't decide.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: uh, death story, but not like you think
Spoilers: only for Ep IV
Summary: Sequel to 'That I Shall Say Goodbye'. Takes place
during ANH.
Reunion, romance, great sex. Oh, and a bit of a crossover at
the end.
Feedback: Please!!!
He stood on the ridge overlooking the dune sea. The wind
whipped sheets of dust across the flat ripples and twilight's
dying fire painted Tatooine in pastels of color that during the
day were burned into white glare by the twin suns. It was
breathtaking, but he'd seen the same display almost every night
for many years. He hadn't even bothered going out to this ridge
just to watch the sunset for the last six.
For all his devotion to the living Force and all its wonders,
very little meant anything to him anymore when he was alone to
witness it. The tapestry of twilight was lovely, but it would
be a thousand times more so if he could wrap his arms around
the warm body of his lover, rest his chin in the spiky softness
of his hair, listen to his rich voice.
Jaded? Perhaps. He'd always taken far more pleasure in
listening to his lover, at the way he'd marveled at everything
the Jedi master had already seen, but in his excitement making
it all fresh and pure to the elder man too. The sharp blue eyes
were slitted almost shut against the disappearing brilliance of
the suns, that discomfort providing the false excuse for the
trickles of silver down the weatherworn face.
Tonight was different. He felt it in his borrowed bones. A
wiggle of excitement and anticipation shivered in him and he
clasped his arms across his chest. His hair had gone to white,
and his face to the creases of age, but those changes over the
past few decades had only been superficial. His eyes were still
sharp, his soul still young... well, maybe not young, but
certainly it had been spared the ravages of time. He could
manifest any way he chose, but for continuity, and in memory of
his lover, he kept the face and body he'd adopted the day he
had died and aged it as gracefully as he imagined Obi-Wan would
have done.
Something was going to shift. After years of monotony and
agonizing slowness, now was when fate would change. Once
unleashed, events would cascade and spill over each other in
rushing torrents and he felt no fear of this. Only anticipation
and a slight worry that he might not be up to reacting as he
needed to, as they needed him to.
Qui-Gon smiled as he watched the suns disappear. Tonight would
be the last time he ever saw them. As purple and indigo shadows
chased each other across the land, he thought again about
Obi-Wan, and his heart lurched. His wait was almost over, he
could feel it.
The hilt of the saber thrummed in his hands, crackling angrily
against the harsh red blade of his opponent. Leading his enemy
back, to the open hallway where all could see them, Qui-Gon's
reflexes were still as swift as ever - more so, since he didn't
have to deal with the infirmity of aging flesh. A slow burn of
anger had started in his stomach when he faced his former
apprentice, his second greatest failure.
Ani, where did I go wrong with you? he had asked himself
countless times. He had been so sure that the child had been
the chosen one, the person that would bring balance to the
Force. Instead, the boy had become a fiery adolescent, who had
become an angry man, who had become the monster. What should
have been the Jedi's hope had become their bane as the greatest
among them hunted out each master, knight, and apprentice, then
slaughtered them.
Just what did balance mean? Most of the Council believed it
would be a good thing, but what if it was the opposite? With
only two Jedi at any time that practiced the dark side
exclusively, and many more than that who walked only the light
side, was it any wonder everything was skewed? Bringing things
back into balance, he knew now, meant either more Dark Jedi, or
far fewer Light ones.
Perhaps Ani had fulfilled his destiny after all.
He had spent years trying to figure out where he had gone
wrong, and now, he realized, maybe he hadn't.
The wheeze of air had undercut the intimidation of that booming
voice. "I've been waiting for you, Obi-Wan. We meet again at
last. The circle is now complete. When I left you I was but a
learner. Now I am the Master."
"Only a master of evil, Darth," he had replied cooly as battle
was joined.
Now he fought against his former apprentice, calling upon all
his experience to buy Luke and his friends a little more time.
Luke was wrong, he had not accompanied them for the boy's sake.
He had done it to face Vader, and perhaps in so doing, reach
past that hard shell the dark side had given him and touch Ani
one last time.
His main task had been making sure the balance was achieved,
but he had taken on another, smaller one purely for himself:
Anakin's redemption. Training Skywalker's son had only been a
small part of both of those ends.
Right now, he could feel something had shifted, ever so
slightly, under the black facade. Had his reappearance in
Anakin's life triggered something inside, something that made
the cheerful little slave boy begin to awaken once more? Or was
it just a malicious glee at crossing sabers with his former
master?
He paused, then deliberately overextended, giving Anakin just
enough of an opening to take. The red saber swung in, heading
right for his heart and he braced himself for the strike.
At the last second, it turned a hairsbreadth aside to strike
his saber and deflect off it to hit the side of the doorway.
Qui-Gon nearly dropped his lightsaber in shock.
Ani! his heart shouted.
Then he had to bring his blade back up instantly to block
another attack. Ani, his Anakin, was still in there, Qui-Gon
was now certain. His automatic responses took over as he
parried and cut and thrust, once in a while making a deliberate
mistake... and each time, Anakin didn't take it.
"Your powers are weak, old man," the hollow voice sneered.
So, he had noticed. And still not taken advantage of the age
Qui-Gon feigned.
The elder Jedi smiled. Even after all these years of being
completely immersed in the roiling filth of the dark side,
Anakin and his sense of fairness was still there.
"You cannot win, Darth," he told him. Darth Vader might have
dominance, but if Ani had managed to survive all this time and
still be able to keep from cutting his former master down, then
the darkness in him would never win.
But Anakin simply surviving inside Vader's evil wasn't enough.
He'd been doing that already. Qui-Gon had to somehow reach Ani
and make him fight to triumph over the evil of his own soul.
And the older man thought he knew what would get past the stone
and reach Anakin once more.
Qui-Gon sensed the boy, Anakin's son, watching. He had gotten
his friends out, and now the boy was going to get killed
staying there, staring at the battle before him. Qui-Gon almost
snorted to himself.
"Strike me down, and I will become more powerful than you could
possibly imagine," he added, speaking to the Sith. It was
deliberate taunt, a tiny stab at the poisoned arrogance.
Consciously designed, it was, to spur Vader into what Qui-Gon
wanted him to do.
"You should not have come back," Vader replied. Qui-Gon
hesitated as he heard in that scoff a warning, one that came
from the heart of a little boy. Underlying the derision was the
faintest of heartfelt regrets, and once again, he smiled. The
battle began anew, but the black-clad lord fought with far less
vigor.
There, now, they were racing to the ship. He gave Luke one last
look, then turned his eyes back to the mask of Vader. Qui-Gon
sensed young Skywalker's fear, heard the faintest, 'come
on, Ben!' in his mind. He smiled a little. He wouldn't
be going with them now that he was certain he knew what would
reach Ani.
Dropping out of his fighting stance, he raised his lightsaber
before him, not in defense but in salute. It was a salute to
the man Anakin's son would become, to the man Anakin would be
again, and to the man he was finally going to return to. He
closed his eyes.
Obi-Wan, he thought joyfully as the red saber hummed
through him, and his manifested body vanished.
"NO!!!" he heard Luke scream, just as he'd heard Obi-Wan scream
the first time he'd died.
NO!!! he heard a little boy scream inside the mind of
Vader, the cry he'd hoped to hear.
Ani's horror at what he'd done had finally cracked the veneer
of the Sith. It was a tiny step, a stirring in a heart that had
long since gone cold. When Luke was ready, Qui-Gon would tell
him of his father, and then Luke could finish what the elder
Jedi had begun. It was only a matter of time before Anakin
triumphed over the darkness of his soul.
Qui-Gon stood, invisible on the platform, and watched the
youngest Skywalker furiously attack the storm troopers. It was
an eerie reflection of Obi-Wan's own rage during the fight with
Darth Maul. But there was no chance Luke had become as attached
to Qui-Gon as Obi-Wan had, no chance he would try to join him.
His bond with his lover had been far different, reaching deep
levels that few were even aware of.
Run, Luke, run! he urged the boy. Qui-Gon felt a little
worried, leaving Luke like this, as adrift as little Anakin had
been when he'd died the first time. Perhaps the Force would let
Qui-gon return every now and then to continue advising him. He
regretted not having more time to train Luke, but the youngest
Skywalker had a good base to build on for himself.
His spirit felt lighter than it had ever before as the party
escaped, and he knew his job was done before the midi-chlorians
whispered to him. He stayed long enough to watch the youngsters
depart, then turned his bodiless face upward and closed his
eyes.
Obi-Wan, I'm coming now, he thought as he began to
shimmer out of that world.
He was in a place of no light, no sound, no time and no space.
Everything was nothing, and nothing was everything, and he was
somehow part of it all. Imagination manifested with the ease of
thought and after a few interesting mistakes, Qui-Gon put
himself into his old quarters at the temple on Coruscant.
And, just because, he gave himself his old form, the one that
had been burned in memorial so many years before. He flopped
down onto an old, soft chair, one that he'd remembered in exact
detail even after so long, right down to the creak of the back
left leg when the sitter shifted his weight just so. He glanced
down, then looked curiously at his hands and arms, outlined by
the same blue iridescence of the midi-chlorians. The aura
covered him entirely and while it wasn't unpleasant, it was
going to take some getting used to.
Light streamed in through the window, made harsh and unnatural
by the synthetic lights of the planetwide city. Qui-Gon frowned
to himself, disliking the empty illumination and concentrated
hard for a moment to change it. He had to check his work a few
times before finally getting that last sunset on Tatooine just
right. The setting suns warmed and darkened the light to the
color of old gold, dusting everything in the room with an amber
glow.
He rested his head against the back of the chair, closing his
eyes and finally allowing himself to rest. Tension that had
been so much a part of him for so long bled away and the
beginnings of an untainted smile touched his lips.
"Master?"
That voice, that sweetly sensual voice he'd longed to hear for
what seemed like centuries. The surge of shocked joy propelled
him out of the chair and he spun to face Obi-Wan, standing a
little nervously in the doorway, also outlined in cobalt fire.
He was still dressed in his apprentice robes, still wearing his
Padawan braid, still showing that glimmer of humor that was
permanently in his eyes, even when he'd feared he'd done wrong.
Qui-Gon couldn't speak. He was frozen in place as he drank in
the image of his beloved.
"Are... are you angry with me?"
Obi-Wan's hands twisted the hems of his sleeves and his weight
shifted from one foot to the other. The glow of hope began to
fade a little from his face when Qui-Gon did nothing and he
looked down at the floor. He took a step back, and the retreat
catalyzed the elder man into motion.
Without noticing the speed, Qui-Gon was in front of his old
apprentice in an instant, gripping his shoulders with hands
that shook. "Obi-Wan," he said, the name softened by the knot
in his throat. His hands tightened into fistfuls of fabric and
he pulled Obi-Wan into a crushing embrace. The enormity of
everything struck him hard and he pressed his face into the
younger man's neck, trembling as he inhaled deeply of the scent
that had nearly faded from recall.
He felt Obi-Wan's arms come up around his body and hug him back
so fiercely his ribs would have cracked if he'd still had a
physical form. Qui-Gon heard his own name whispered into the
shoulder of his tunic and the broken dam of grief and joy told
him that this was finally real. He was finally home, in the
arms of his love.
Blue-green eyes looked back up at him, far too bright with
unshed tears. "Master, I... I made a hasty decision... well,"
that incredible mouth quirked in a grin. "Actually, I made two.
And I'm so sorry-"
The older man cut off the rest with a gentle hand over his
mouth. "Don't, my Padawan. I took too long to make my choice.
There was no way you could have known."
He slowly stroked his hand down, reveling in the feel of
Obi-Wan's lips against his skin. He let his fingertips travel
down the younger man's chin to his throat, and rested that hand
against his chest. Obi-Wan's grin turned into a softer smile.
"I have learned patience, Qui-Gon."
The other man smiled, "And I believe I've learned
impulsiveness."
The smile turned into a heated challenge. "Show me," Obi-Wan
said, his voice low as he pulled Qui-Gon's head down to his.
Their lips touched softly, hesitantly, both afraid the other
would disappear. When the contact didn't vanish, they grew
bolder, feather brushes turning into silken sweeps. The younger
man flicked his tongue across Qui-Gon's lips, the wet fire
singing straight into the other's spine.
"Obi-Wan," he moaned into the mouth that opened under his. He
felt hands plunge into his hair, holding him in place while
they devoured each other. All the hurt and fear and loneliness
fell away under the decades of suppressed need.
It had been far too long. He had to have more, he had to
taste and touch more. His hands tightened and a harsh rip
startled them both. The younger man broke away with a laugh and
Qui-Gon smiled, a little embarrassed by his lack of control,
but that didn't stop him from stripping away the rest of the
robe and starting on the shirt and tunic. The instant Obi-Wan's
chest was bare, his hands were everywhere, touching and
stroking the smooth skin and muscles that tactile memory had
all but forgotten.
"Things work a little differently here, Master," his lover
whispered. Qui-Gon's clothes simply faded away until they were
skin to skin. His eyes widened and Obi-Wan laughed again, his
voice running like warm water over Qui-Gon's body. He groaned a
little as the sensations arrowed straight down and pulled them
together for another kiss.
Slowly, barriers between them reopened, barriers that had been
formed out of survival and sanity. Their minds reached out to
each other, touching hesitantly, then with more joyful abandon,
reforming links that had been cut so long ago. Mind and hearts
bonded again and when they finally laid down, their souls did
too.
Qui-Gon lifted his head to look deeply into Obi-Wan's eyes,
feeling once again as complete as they had many years before.
Happiness and an incredible feeling of rightness flooded him,
the intensity almost painful and he had to swallow back the
tears that threatened.
His other half understood without words. He touched Qui-Gon's
face with his fingertips. "I've missed you too, Master." His
words were simple and quiet, speaking volumes for both of them.
"Considering how we are now, I don't think you need to call me
'master'," Qui-Gon smiled and bent his head back down to kiss
and nibble at Obi-Wan's throat.
"I want to," he gasped, arching his neck under those teasing
lips and soft bites. "Always and forever, you are Master to
me."
"Mmmm..." the older man murmured against his skin, the low hum
sizzling across and into flesh. He grinned as he listened to
his lover gasp again and began to work his way down. Qui-Gon
slid slowly down his lover's body, taking extra time to lick
and mouth and bite every inch he could reach. The gasps turned
into low moans when the Jedi reached Obi-Wan's stomach, and
spiralled out in a cry when the grizzled beard brushed ever so
lightly across skin gone too-sensitive with arousal.
His hands never stopped, stroking up Obi-Wan's chest, skimming
across his collarbone and shoulders, tickling and teasing his
ribs and stomach. His mouth never paused, licking and tasting
his lover's body, the long separation making him nearly insane
with the desire to refresh faded memory, to rediscover what
love and reunion had made new.
Finally, when Obi-Wan's hoarse pleas and his own need had
eroded his reserve, he let himself taste the shiny drops of his
lover's need. A teasing flick across the tip drew out a ragged
cry that knotted Qui-Gon's groin and he eagerly swallowed the
fiery length. The strangled noise of pleasure was sucked back
in as Obi-Wan's body arched up.
Master... Qui-Gon... his lover had lost the coherency to
keep his moans verbal and the molten flow of desire flooded
them both. Qui-Gon reached out with his mind and it was met and
clasped by the warmly welcoming tendrils of Obi-Wan's.
Missed you... need you... oh more, more...
So Qui-Gon held him down and gave it to him. He sucked hard,
reveling in the feel and taste of silky salt and bitter fire.
With tongue and teeth, he drove Obi-Wan right to that edge,
almost losing his hold on the narrow hips when the younger man
thrashed violently under him. He sensed in their joining the
billowing of his release and took his lover deep into his
throat, working the fevered shaft with his muscles. Obi-Wan's
eyes flew open and he stiffened, screaming his pleasure
mentally as he came.
Qui-Gon licked him clean, almost coming himself from the sharp,
essential flavor of his lover. He pressed light kisses back up
to the base and over his stomach, working his way back up
Obi-Wan's body. His eyes fluttered closed when Obi-Wan's hands
began to stroke his hair, catching and tugging on random
strands that sent tiny jolts of electricity from his head down
to his cock. Fingertips massaged circles into his scalp and he
shuddered against his former Padawan.
Was this real or was this dream? Too many times he'd been
reunited with Obi-Wan, too many times he'd given himself over
to the dream, only to have the paper promises torn away by the
waking rays of the suns. Nearly every night had been a fresh
agony that he had almost come to crave. Now, it felt different,
it felt real, but a treacherous dark corner of his mind
muttered that that very feeling was the secret weapon of
dreams.
Obi-Wan's hands left his head to skate over his body, and the
shudders sank into Qui-Gon, meeting that entrenched dread and
turning into shivers. His lover instantly sensed something was
awry. "What's wrong?"
His face was just barely touching Obi-Wan's chest, feeling the
soft chest hair brushing over his skin. He didn't dare open his
eyes. "Are you a dream?" he whispered brokenly.
Strong hands gently pulled him up. "No," the breath-born word
swept over his face, "I'm not. I'm every bit as real as you
are, Qui-Gon."
He finally opened his eyes, looking down into the oceanic
depths of Obi-Wan's. He could easily give his soul away on the
sincerity in that gaze. "Prove it," he said, lowering his head
to kiss Obi-Wan again. "Prove to me you're real."
"Anything, my Master," he promised, wrapping his arms around
Qui-Gon. With a little Force help, Obi-Wan shifted and rolled
them over to cover the older man with his body. Their minds
mirrored their bodies, twining firmly into and around each
other so that neither could recognize where one stopped and the
other began.
My words are real, came the warm vow inside him. Qui-Gon
moaned as Obi-Wan's mouth traveled over his throat and chest.
My mouth is real, my hands are real, he said and reached
down to lightly stroke a touch over the soft sac. His hand
skipped up to encircle Qui-Gon's cock and the older man
involuntarily surged forward into his grasp. My heart, my
love, all of me is very real, Qui-Gon, and very yours.
Unable to form any coherent reply, Qui-Gon pulled him close
once more, teasing the lines of the younger man's lips with his
tongue. His lover's mouth opened and his tongue came out to
play, turning the touch into a sudden, hungry kiss that said
what even their mental intimacy couldn't. Want... Love...
Need... Now... Now.
Obi-Wan's initial entry drew shouts from both of them, cries of
love and bliss and unalloyed joy. Qui-Gon held him so tightly
they barely moved as they rocked together. He arched against
his lover, reveling in the feel of Obi-Wan around and inside
him, mind, body and soul. Their shared flight was powered by
the quivering intensity as Qui-Gon finally, completely
believed. This time, his lover was no phantom that would fade
in the light of day.
The last of the pain and corroding loneliness was burned away
by the burst of ecstasy. The violent shakes barely preceded the
simultaneous howls of pure pleasure.
Never again came the murmur inside his mind. Never
again apart.
Never, Qui-Gon agreed fervently, completely open to the
mental and physical sensations that were returned with the same
simmering love. Never to separate, never to be alone. Never.
Right?
They could stay here forever, together. Couldn't they?
Why not? Obi-Wan asked. Are you so anxious to
leave?
Qui-Gon gave his braid a gentle tug. Of course not. His
eyes idly traced the waves of red-gold hair as he kept playing
with it. Leaving is the last thing I'd consider.
Good answer, Master, Obi-Wan grinned as he nipped
that spot under Qui-Gon's ear.
Mmm...
Playing with Obi-Wan's hair was an utterly relaxing activity
and Qui-Gon let his mind wander while he fingered the sleek
plait. After a long, velvet silence, he finally remarked, I
always wondered how you kept from burning this off during
lightsaber practice.
Talent, Master. Sheer talent.
Their minds were still woven together and Qui-Gon smiled,
You used the Force.
Well, that too.
Master Yoda would not approve.
Obi-Wan laughed as he nuzzled Qui-Gon's neck. Master Yoda
has no hair to worry about.
He lightly cuffed the rusty head, snickering with him.
Impudent... his smile softened into something a great
deal more serious and he added, I love you.
His lover sighed happily and snuggled closer to him.
Forever.
Can we?
Can we what?
Qui-Gon coiled the braid around one finger. Can we stay
here? Forever? Just like this?
Obi-Wan hesitated. We could.
Surprised, the other man drew away a little. You don't want
to?
Oh no, Master! Obi-Wan's eyes were wide with shock. I
didn't mean that at all. We, uh, we could stay here
forever. I'd be completely happy if we did, he grinned and
gently kissed Qui-Gon again, opening the other man's lips with
his own. Or...
Or?
We could go back.
If not for the fact he was being thoroughly kissed, Qui-Gon
would have shaken his head a little. Instead he made a muffled
sound that vanished into the warm cave of his lover's mouth.
We've already made our choices, beloved.
The empathic rush of mischief was unmistakable, flavored with
the colors of sunset. I persuaded them otherwise.
This time the mental laughter was Qui-Gon's. He recalled every
time he 'put his foot down' during Obi-Wan's training, and
every time he'd lost to the smile and glint in his eyes. I
imagine you did.
The Maker knew Qui-Gon could rarely refuse Obi-Wan anything,
especially when he turned that nova-bright grin onto him, like
he was doing now. Nothing here is irrevocable, Master. We're
part of the Force now, but they'll let us go back.
Qui-Gon thought of the decades of solitude and fear. Years that
had flowed together in a slow mass made infinitely slower by
the nauseating dread of never seeing Obi-Wan again. That
existence was too recent, too fresh in his memory and it
flopped sickly in his stomach. He drew back enough to look into
his lover's eyes, touching his face reverently. He shook his
head. I don't think I could go through that again.
Not like that, Qui-Gon. Reborn. New lives, new memories.
He turned his face to kiss the fingers, catching the tips in
his mouth for a light suckle before releasing them.
Together. Anywhere, even any time.
Together. The concept that had been his focus for all his
borrowed life. He smiled, I think I would like that,
Obi-Wan. He moved just a little. But not now.
Not now? Then wh- oh! Obi-Wan gasped in delight.
Later, my love. Later.
He could barely keep from bouncing on his feet as he walked
down the hallway. His hair, worn long as he preferred, was
normally loose around his face since he was no warrior now, but
it was tied back today for simplicity's sake. He just didn't
feel like fighting the riotous curls the Force had given him.
Choices had been made once more, after they'd guided Luke and
Leia as much as they could. Amidst much laughter and teasing,
he'd chosen to be a teacher again. His lover had smirked and
made a few choice comments before deciding to be the elder and
gravitating towards more of a guardian role. He'd only had time
to make a face at his lover's grin before they both vanished
from the fabric of the Force, to be reborn.
Now, after starting their new lives - real lives, not
existences as Force shadows - today was the day.
He could barely wait to be reunited with his soon to be student
again. Stopping before a door and adjusting the odd spectacles
on his face, he checked a pocket, then straightened to face the
entry. Taking a deep breath, he put his hand on the lever and
went in.
For an instant, he froze, watching his lover. Different face,
different body, different life experiences, but the essence of
his spirit, the Force that he knew better than his own, was
still the same. He smiled, instantly appreciative of the form
his other half had chosen. The glint in the other man's blue
eyes told him that he had also felt that instant tug of
almost-recognition and attraction.
Qui-Gon blinked, cleared his throat a little and spoke,
starting their new life together.
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