Master Apprentice
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A New Dimension
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Obi-Wan Kenobi forced himself to stillness as he watched the funeral pyre burn. So much had changed in such a short while that the reality of it left him reeling. It was not a state the Jedi found familiar, but he struggled to maintain an appearance of serenity that would have made his master proud.
His master.
One stroke of a Sith's blade, and his dream had died. His dream of a closer relationship, beyond the limits of master and padawan, had burned away in that moment as surely as the body before him was now burning away. He felt the sudden, irrational urge to lunge forward, to snatch Qui-Gon from the flames, as if it could matter now.
He had never gotten the chance to say the words on the tip of his tongue, to express the feeling in the depths of his heart. It would go unsaid, unmentioned, at least until he himself joined the Force.
Love. A small word for something so vast, so immeasurable. He tucked it away behind shields of durosteel, into a place inside where only he could go . . .
"That's just wrong," Destina Fortunato said. She had just come from watching the Lucasfilm movie, The Phantom Menace, and she knew that she couldn't let Qui-Gon die. He and his padawan were meant to be together, she was sure of it. She had seen that soft touch on the cheek, the longing in Obi-Wan's eyes. They were in love. Any fool could see it.
Any fool, that is, except for George Lucas. So, Destina took up her pen (okay, okay, so it was probably her keyboard - details, details) and began to write.
"His hands were beautiful. For so many reasons, I remember his long fingers, clasped around the base of a lightsaber, and his soft gaze directed at me, slowly burning, challenging me to become...to become what he made of me. What I am."
From there, she wrote about their love, about how they were like opposite halves of one pure emotion. In her story, Qui-Gon still died, but another possibility had been acknowledged.
They were lovers.
Satisfied, she posted the story to the newly created Master and Apprentice archive.
---------- BANG!!!!! ----------
(like a firecracker going off inside a long tunnel)
And, just like that, a new dimension popped into existence. It was a hazy environment, little more than a cloud-plane, and two non-corporeal figures were visible. They might have been made of the very mist itself, so insubstantial did they appear. They stood facing each other across the space of several yards, and if anyone had been able to see them clearly enough, it would have been obvious that they were spellbound with shock.
"Master!" Obi-Wan gasped after a long moment of apparently struggling to find his voice.
"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon held out his arms, as he had done when his padawan was just a boy and in need of comfort. And, like that boy, Obi-Wan rushed into the warmth of his embrace. But there was no warmth there, no feeling of pressing together. Only two mists intertwining. Still, it was enough.
"How is this possible?' The newly knighted young man seemed unashamed of the quiver in his voice or the unshed tears filling his eyes. "I saw you die."
"Shhh, Padawan." One large hand reached to stroke through still spiky hair, though it felt insubstantial beneath his fingers. "That has not happened here."
"Not yet." Obi-Wan pulled away to look around at the gray mist. "Where is here?"
Qui-Gon shook his head. "I don't know." He glanced down at Obi-Wan critically. "You're not dead, too, are you?"
A small but wry grin was his answer. "Not that I know of. And, I'm certain I would have noticed." He sobered. "Well, perhaps I wouldn't have, considering."
He dropped to his knees, not feeling the impact since he had no weight to speak of in this strange place. He lowered his head until it nearly touched the swirling cloud that formed the ground. "Forgive me, my master, for failing you."
Qui-Gon would not have a new knight kneeling at his feet, let alone this particular new knight. Since he could not grasp Obi-Wan with hands that weren't quite there, he used the Force to draw Obi-Wan to his feet. "Failing me? How do you believe that you failed me?"
"I didn't protect you! I was not at your side, where I should have been. I let myself get separated. And, even before that, I was distracted, disrespectful, angry . . ."
"Hurt?"
Obi-Wan closed his mouth, a small sound that might have been a choked off sob escaping him. He nodded.
Qui-Gon glanced at the barely visible, freshly shorn hair behind Obi-Wan's ear. "I miss the braid." He looked deeply into eyes that were still stormy green even in this place of mist. "I did not mean to hurt you. You must know that. But the Force was leading me strongly, and . . ."
"And you were always one to follow the Force, regardless of other considerations."
"Those other considerations were you, my padawan. I should have spoken to you sooner about how near you were to your knighting. The truth of the matter is, I was putting it off."
Obi-Wan's lips tightened, and he dropped his gaze. "Because I was not good enough?"
"Because I was not ready to lose you. I don't think I will ever be ready to lose you."
Obi-Wan looked up and blinked, the light of some long hidden hope flaring in his eyes. "What are you saying, Qui-Gon?"
"That I love you, and not as a master loves an apprentice. I love you as a man, Obi-Wan. As my bondmate, if you'll have me."
A brilliant smile lit Obi-Wan's face, its light spreading to warm the surrounding grayness. "Oh, yes, my master. Forever."
(Meanwhile, in another part of our world . . .)
"What?" De Orakle said to herself as the movie ended. "He didn't really do that, did he? Tell me he didn't really kill off Qui-Gon Jinn!" And so she, too, sat down and began to write. She wrote about Obi-Wan's last, fateful 'saber battle with his fallen apprentice. It was just a short ficlet, but it began this way:
"I wonder if He felt like this, at the end I mean. Did he reach this point where he just knew that no matter how strong the Force was inside of him, that he would not be walking away from the fight?"
She wrote how Obi-Wan felt the fatal blow, how the Force rose in him, pulling him apart and completing him at the same time. She wrote of how he wished that his beloved master could be there waiting for him when he reached the other side . . .
---------- BANG!!!!! ----------
(there are those firecrackers again)
In the new dimension, the figures of the two Jedi gained a little more substance. Less prominent features could now be seen; the crease of concentration between red-gold brows, a small dark mole on a cheek. There was even a braid again, as long and tidy as it had been on that fateful day on Naboo. Obi-Wan reached to run his fingers down it, then looked up into his master's eyes.
"Better?" he said with a cheeky grin.
"Everything is better here."
The grin faded as Obi-Wan looked around. "I still don't understand where we are, though. How is this possible?"
"There is a theory," Qui-Gon said thoughtfully. He took his padawan's hand, pleased that he could at last do so, and traced the 'saber calluses on the palm with one fingertip. "There is an author by the name of Robert Heinlein. He proposed that every time a story is written, a new dimensional universe pops into existence somewhere in the space-time continuum, and those characters become real."
"Is that what's happened to us?"
"Possibly." Qui-Gon brought the hand he still held to his lips and kissed the knuckles, grateful that he could feel the skin under his lips.
"So, somewhere, someone has written a story in which we're together."
Qui-Gon nodded. "Possibly more than one someone."
The line between Obi-Wan's brows deepened. "But, does that mean that we will live out each story they write, for good or ill?"
Qui-Gon shrugged. "Only time will tell, Obi-Wan. But, as long as we are together, I can bear anything. There is, however, one thing I wish to do immediately."
"Oh? And what would that be?"
Instead of answering, the Jedi master lowered his head and captured Obi-Wan's mouth in a soft, exploratory kiss. The taste was just as he'd imagined it; sweet, with just a hint of spice. The lips were soft, mobile, once the knight overcame his disbelief and began to respond in kind. The first touch of their tongues was like an electrical discharge. It lit up Qui-Gon's spinal column and set his cock on full alert. Finally, he eased them apart when he felt an answering hardness pressing against his thigh. Obi-Wan's face was deliciously flushed, his lips already kiss swollen, parted slightly as he panted for breath.
Qui-Gon smiled and sank to his knees, drawing a wide-eyed look of horrified amazement from the young knight. "I love you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I wish to spend all of eternity with you. What say you?"
Obi-Wan's face broke into a dazzling smile. He knelt, reaching to stroke one bearded cheek with his fingertips. "I say yes, Master. Oh, yes!"
And then they were kissing again, their erections pressed against one another through the fabric of their leggings. Obi-Wan slipped his hands into his master's hair, pulling out the thong that tied it back, and rubbed against the taller man like a whimbat in heat.
Qui-Gon chuckled and broke them apart. "Patience, dear one. There is time."
"Perhaps there isn't. If your theory is true, then some other author could just as easily write you dead again."
"True enough. But, something tells me that here, in this place, I will be alive more often than not, and the two of us will be together."
Obi-Wan's eyebrows lifted. "Oh? You're precognizant now, are you? Well, I'm not willing to take that chance." He unfastened Qui-Gon's utility belt and dropped it to the ground, which was now littered with the shed blossoms of a lilac tree that had just appeared over their heads. The sash quickly followed, and soon he was pressing his hands to Qui-Gon's chest, pushing tunics aside. "I do not wish to go through eternity never having touched you."
Qui-Gon let himself be undressed. "Then, touch all you wish, my own. As long as I am allowed to do so, as well."
"Oh, I'll allow you to do a great many things, my master."
At the same time that the Jedi were undressing each other, a third author was penning a story. Okay, so she was probably using a keyboard, too. Her name was Sidewinder, and her story was a little interlude set during the movie.
"You are ready to face the trials, padawan," she wrote in Qui-Gon's voice. "I did not say as much to the council merely in an effort to take on Anakin as a new apprentice."
"I should hope not," she had Obi-Wan reply. "I'd like to think you have some reasons for not wanting to be rid of me so quickly."
They kissed, and Obi-Wan's hands slipped into Qui-Gon's hair, gently freeing the long strands and allowing them to fall about his face. The master's hands glided over Obi-Wan's shoulders and back, tracing the familiar curves of the strong, lean body that lay beneath his soft tunic. The Force rippled through the air around them, flowed through them, heightening the sensations of every caress.
Mine... Obi-Wan asserted with each touch.
Yes, yours. As you are mine. As we are one, Qui-Gon answered in his own touch and shared thought, as he expertly rolled the smaller man onto his back and set to task proving his desire. They made love slowly, despite Obi-Wan's desperate arousal. They were many hours from Naboo yet, with time to rest later; time for other activities now. Qui-Gon intended to enjoy every second of it.
---------- BANG!!!!! ----------
(Damn those firecrackers!)
Somehow, some way, Obi-Wan had lost control of the situation. Not that he was complaining, mind you. He was now sprawled naked and desperately aroused on surprisingly hard ground that was scented with millions of lilac blooms. His former master, equally as naked, lay straddling him, and was currently trying to suck Obi-Wan's brains out through his cock.
He was very nearly succeeding.
The air around them shimmered, and suddenly the lilac tree and the azure sky overhead were gone. Instead, the metallic walls of a ship surrounded them. Obi-Wan felt his breath catch in this throat. He knew this cabin.
They were on their way to Naboo.
"No!" he screamed, pushing Qui-Gon off of him as he sat up. "They can't do this to us, not again! It's too soon!"
"Calm yourself, my padawan," Qui-Gon soothed, fisting the erection that had begun to wane and bringing it to life once more. "Do you imagine that these writers, having decided that we were meant to be lovers, will now throw that all away by having me die at the Sith's hand?"
Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair in horrified distress. "I don't know! They might!"
Qui-Gon caught the hand and drew it to his mouth, sucking one finger in and laving it with his tongue. He watched the gray-green eyes dilate with renewed interest before releasing the digit. "They might, but I think it will not be forever. If I die again, they will revive me. Why else would they have done it the first time?"
Obi-Wan grew still and thoughtful. "What if you're wrong?" he asked finally, his voice so soft that Qui-Gon had to strain to hear it over the hum of the hyperdrive engines.
"Then, let us make enough memories tonight to last you for the rest of your life."
They made love, softly, slowly, savoring every moment.
Destina Fortunato was writing her second story for the new fan fiction archive. This one was entitled Mortal Wounds, and was her way of letting her favorite Jedi become lovers three years before the events in Phantom Menace.
---------- BANG!!!!! ----------
(someone should really report those firecrackers)
Obi-Wan looked around at the crowded streets. "Master? Where are we?"
"Bachuca Erodon, if I'm not mistaken." He reached to finger the padawan braid, a little shorter now than it had been only a few minutes ago. "You're younger."
"Twenty two," Obi-Wan said unerringly. "Although I'm not sure how I know that."
"Live in the moment, padawan. Whichever moment we've been given."
As Destina continued to write, the two Jedi slipped easily into their roles, forgetting that this was yet a new dimension, perhaps a new universe. They lived through the events of her story; the master's discovery of his padawan's love, a life-threatening injury, a healing that revealed Qui-Gon's own feelings as he was forced to bare his soul to save his apprentice.
"Master?" Obi-Was said the next morning, a tone of wistful longing in his voice as he recalled the feeling of having his master's hands on him. "When I am recovered, will you touch me again as you did last night?"
Qui-Gon knew his own heart. There was no need for further hesitation. He tipped the young man's chin up with a finger and opened his thoughts and feelings to Obi-Wan. He gazed steadily at his padawan with luminous blue eyes, communicating without speaking, while he watched the realization dawn in his apprentice's mind. Obi-Wan's eyes widened and filled with tears, betraying his astonished joy before he could stop his reaction. Qui-Gon clasped the handsome face between his large, strong hands, his thumbs gently stroking Obi-Wan's cheeks. "In time, young padawan, I will touch you in any way you desire."
And, there was another author by the name of Saraid, who was writing a story. It consisted mostly of missing scene from Phantom Menace, as well as possibly a new take on the meaning of "padawan."
---------- BANG!!!!! ----------
(enough with those firecrackers already!)
"I know this place," Obi-Wan said softly, fingers brushing the soft grass on which they were sitting. "It's the hydroponics room of the cruiser after that took us back to Coruscant after you freed Anakin."
"So it is."
"It's going to happen all over again, isn't it?" Obi-Wan whispered.
Qui-Gon reached to stroke his face. "Try not to worry, Padawan."
Obi-Wan wriggled closer, sighing happily when Qui-Gon's arm slipped around his shoulders. "Fine," he said. "But, I do have one question." The corners of his mouth twitched despite his efforts not to grin. "How long will these negotiations last?"
Moving suddenly, grabbing the smaller man into another tight embrace, Qui-Gon rolled them over, crushing ground-cover plants ruthlessly, landing with Obi-Wan on top of him, face again cupped in his Master's capable hands.
"A night or a lifetime, Padawan. As long as you desire."
"The Force is with us in this." He marveled quietly.
"The time for words is past." Qui-Gon's voice was becoming hoarse. Instead of answering verbally Obi-Wan leaned to kiss him, controlling it this time, taking the lead.
The time for words was indeed past and they spoke with their hands and tongues and bodies, a language older than time and more expressive than thoughts. Around them the Force trembled, sending ripples into the galaxy that were felt by others, some of whom rejoiced while others mourned.
There in that place that had once been only mist but was now as corporeal as any reality, they pressed their bodies together and made the most of the gift they'd been given.
The gift of second chances.
The End
Here's the URL's for the stories plagiarized in this
little tale.
Touch by Destina Fortunato --
http://www.masterapprentice.org/archive/t/touch.html
Ebb Tide by De Orakle --
http://www.masterapprentice.org/archive/e/ebb_tide.html
Future's Choices I: Meditations by Sidewinder --
http://www.masterapprentice.org/archive/m/meditations.html
Mortal Wounds, by Destina Fortunato --
http://www.masterapprentice.org/archive/m/mortal_wounds.html
Sacred Time by Saraid --
http://www.masterapprentice.org/archive/s/sacred_time.html