Category: Angst, First-Time, Point of View: Obi-Wan
Rating: PG-13
Summary: What to do the Morning After the Night Before? If
you're a Jedi -- meditate.
Feedback: please, as detailed as you like. Flames will be
laughed at. Praise will be savored.
Disclaimer: Whaddaya mean, they're not mine? If Lucas can prove
they talk in his head as clearly and constantly as they do in
mine, I'll give them back, but not until.
Notes: I've read a lot of stories wherein our favorite Jedi
reconcile their desire for each other by meditating. This is
the result of my thinking too hard about that. This particular
method of meditation is based on the way I meditate: your views
may vary. Many thanks to Betsy Ivester, Sirohna and Amber Biles
for beta-reading at the drop of a hat. Any remaining problems
may be blamed on me.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Allow thoughts to float like bubbles through the mind, up and
out. Let go of preoccupations. Relax all muscles, close the
eyes. I fall into the meditative state. There is nothing. I am
nothing. I am Jedi.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I know what I should be thinking about. But I am
reluctant. Master Qui-Gon says you cannot truly choose a
subject for meditation. You must let go, and let the Force
decide. This doesn't stop him from occasionally telling me to
meditate on a mistake, or a fault, or a choice to be made. But
it does mean I spend less time on my knees attempting to
consider the True Meaning of the Jedi Code. Not that I spend
less time on my knees overall. Especially now.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Reluctance means nothing to the Force, it seems...my thoughts
tend that way whether I choose or not.
Is it right?
I cannot say I did not see it coming. From a Jedi, that would
be at best ludicrous, at worst Darkened. The appreciative
glances. The lingering touches, beyond even his usual ease with
my body. The teacher's affection that always warmed me, even as
it grew in heat and strength.
Teacher. Therein, perhaps, lies the problem.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
There's nothing in the Code to guide us. They cannot outlaw
love between Master and Padawan, any more than they can make it
mandatory. It is up to us to prove to ourselves that a
relationship will not impede either our work or my training. It
is up to us to test ourselves, and see if we are lacking.
This would be a lot simpler if it were in the Code.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Is it love? How can I tell? As my Master -- as Qui-Gon --
reminded me, I don't have as much life experience as he does.
I'm half his age, if that, and even the unchanging traditions
of the Jedi do not prevent there being a great deal of
difference between twenty and fifty-five. Then again, he also
said he'd never felt like this before. Can he be certain,
either?
Don't be stupid, Kenobi -- if you can't figure out whether you
love him until you know whether he loves you, there's already
something wrong. I won't always be his Padawan. I can't allow
myself to be dependent.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Listen to the pulse of blood through
the ears.
Last night...was unexpected. Truly. I didn't expect the step to
lovers to be taken before my Knighting day. A look, a touch, a
moment's relaxation of control -- I can't put my finger on when
we chose passion over cold serenity. I will never forget the
rough tickling of his beard against my skin as he kissed his
way up my arm, the tremor in his voice as he bade me be still,
the dull pleasant ache that still lingers in my muscles. But we
are Jedi. Our passion is a power not to be trifled with.
Do I love him? It comes down to that. Do I love him well enough
to balance out all the problems, to accept the risks?
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I was madly infatuated with him, once -- hard not to be.
Handsome, charismatic, with that slight smile and gleam of his
eyes when I did well that made me feel as if I were the center
of his world. But continued, constant exposure to someone will
wear away the most ardent infatuation. It's hard to keep up the
worshipful adoration of someone you've seen swearing at their
long hair, tangled by a restless night, or drunk enough to try
to sing. No. It is not infatuation.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
If not, what is it? When did it start? How?
I remember going with my Master to the islands of Kanalau,
where clothing of any kind is considered an affront to the
Goddess. Qui-Gon got more than a few appreciative looks, and
several murmured invitations to 'honor the Goddess.' I
remembered he refused each with a smile and a shake of the
head...and I remember being both amused and relieved at his
reaction. That was no more than a year ago.
Did he know then? Did I?
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I cannot count the temptations that come in a Jedi's way. The
Dark Side is ever present, and more powerful than we want to
admit. It would be so easy to become jealous, or overly
possessive, or so wrapped up in each other that we forget to be
Jedi first. But all that is fear, shadows of things that
might be, not certainties. I have been trained too well
to give in to fear.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
My mind has run in circles long enough. There is no logical
answer, no touchstones to which I can point and say, there,
that proves it, I love him and always will. Thought is
exhausted, emotions let go. There is only the Force.
Yes.
I open my eyes, still in the knowledge of what I have seen, and
find my Master -- my lover -- kneeling and facing me. I see the
same peace on his face that I've found.
"It will not be easy," he says aloud into the silence.
"Nothing worthwhile is," I say, and grin.
He lays his hand on my shoulder -- an acknowledgment, a
tribute, a lover joying in the warm feel of his beloved. Then
we both rise, and leave the meditation room to continue the
day.
-fin-
If-You-Liked-This Recommended Reading: Mini-fic: a dialogue in
two voices, by llamajoy@aol.com. If it's not archived...then it
should be.
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