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not-for-ptofit posting of this story.
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This story may be archived at Master_Apprentice.
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: Qui-Gon talks about what Obi-Wan means to him... and
what his 'Yes, master's mean to him as well.
The sound of his voice is one of the foundations upon which I
rest. It creates such a necessary part of my reality... perhaps
I overreact. It is, after all, just a voice. Just sounds. It
should not compare to the way he smiles at me, or touches me,
or how the emotions themselves wash over me when we come
together. But his voice is something I can have when we have
nothing else between us. And perhaps that is why I treasure it
more.
Besides, I love the way he speaks. His voice is... or perhaps
I'm just in love. Why else would I read so much into his voice?
Why else would he put so much into it? With two words he can
say a lifetime of things.
For example, when he says "Yes, Master" in that calm, balanced
tone of his, I can hear his agreement with and support of
whatever decision I have reached. In recent years, I have come
to value his agreement and support. I can see the Knight he is
becoming, see the skill and competence within him. When he
agrees with me... I find myself assured that I have, in fact,
made the right choice.
When he says "Yes, Master" in that same calm tone, but the one
which is ever-so-slightly off-balance, I know he disagrees. In
the last year I have found myself taking a second look at what
we are about to do, when I hear that tone.
Then of course there is the "Yes, Master" which does not even
attempt to be balanced or calm. When he does not mind my
knowing I've asked him to do something he does not wish to do.
It is not simple disagreement, it is whole-hearted refusal.
Almost whole-hearted -- he still obeys, but only because I am
the teacher and he, the student. He acquiesces, says "Yes,
Master" without comment, even controls his desire to protest.
But I can hear it, all the same. I haven't yet been able to
decide if I am right, in those times, or if he is.
Sometimes when he says "Yes, Master", I can feel his laughter
trying to push its way out. He smiles, then, and if I asked him
anything more I'm sure he would give in and let it free. But I
leave it silenced, enjoyed no less. I know he knows I can hear
it, and that is enough.
That is not to say he never laughs. When he says "Yes, Master"
in a fit of laughter, doubling him over until he can barely get
the words out.... It does not happen often enough. Jedi must
present an image of control, and calm, to encourage the faith
of others in our abilities to protect the peace. So I must wait
until we are in private, and then too often he distracts me
from amusing him into laughing, with other things.
The "Yes, Master" when he is enticing me to such distractions.
That one I have such difficulty resisting. Even when I ought to
resist I find myself pausing, turning my attention towards him,
hearing his voice echoing inside me, with my need for him. I
believe he says it sometimes just for that reaction -- even
when there is no way we can give in to it. I don't chastise him
for it. Perhaps it is behavior unbecoming a Jedi, or a Padawan.
But as my lover, it is perfect. It reminds me so of the "Yes,
Master" when he is more than just enticing me. When I have
claimed him, before he has lost control of his speech and he is
crying out. At times he calls my name, but at others he cries
those words and it sends shivers running throughout my soul. It
reminds me of those times when I am about to lose myself in
him, and he is encouraging me, calling me to let myself
go. He whispers, "Yes, Master" in my ear and his soul touches
mine in his voice. I treasure those.
I even treasure the others.
The "Yes, Master" when he can barely speak, shaking in pain
and accepting that, for now, I can do nothing. The quiet defeat
of his "Yes, Master" when I have to tell him he has failed in
his task. The "Yes, Master" when I tell him there is nothing we
can do to change the suffering we see around us. The anguish
when I must tell him to continue without me and continue our
mission alone, and he simply says, "Yes, Master" and walks
away.
All these I treasure, not for the emotion behind them, but
simply for that he shares that emotion with me. In those two
words he opens himself to me in ways he does not to anyone
else. That he allows me in to his pain, as well as his joy,
gives me cause enough to treasure each and every whisper of
those words.
But all of these pale beside the "Yes, Master" when there is
no great joy, no great pain. When there is only quiet, and we
are doing nothing of import. I say something, he simply replies
"Yes, Master," and I hear only his love pouring forth.
It is in those quiet moments that I find myself searching for
things to say to him, to elicit his responses. I suspect he
knows, and in fact at times I believe I can hear a slight
exasperation creep into his tone when he has said it for the
fifth or sixth time in the space of an hour. The slight stretch
on the "Yes" always warns me that perhaps I should cease
indulging myself.. for a bit.
Perhaps I measure too strongly the circumstances of our
relationship by his voice and by those two simple words. But I
find the universe inside them, even when I do not try. I find
his love, his joy, his pain, his sorrow. I find his delight and
desires, I find his anger and fears. Whenever he says "Yes,
Master" I can hear all those, and once in a while I hear
something new.
I knew he desired me, when I heard it in his voice. I knew he
loved me, in that same voice. I knew he respected me, and I
knew when he once feared me. I knew when he first needed me as
he said "Yes, Master". I knew when I first needed him. I knew
when all I wanted that I did not yet have, was wrapped up in
his voice.
And for all his "Yes, Master"s I find there is still that
which has been left unsaid. I look forward to discovering
them... though soon I shall have to hear them in words other
than these. Perhaps I shall hear it in my name, when he speaks
to me. Perhaps he shall find another few words to convey
everything he says to me.
Whatever they will be, I look forward to hearing them. For
now, I wait for him to speak again so I may touch him.
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