RATED: R to be on the safe side b/c there's a little bit of
implied slash but nothing graphic
SPOILERS: post-TPM
CATEGORY: Angst, POV
SUMMARY: Song lyrics twined with a monologue from Obi-Wan about
his feelings after the events of TPM
DISCLAIMERS: George Lucas owns the characters, and Robbie
Williams owns the song. I'm overlapping them for fun.
ARCHIVE: M/A site, anywhere else please ask
FEEDBACK: Please! This is my first attempt at fanfic and
slash, so I hope it's okay :)
"I sit and wait/ Does an angel contemplate my fate..."
If I call you, will you come? Will you tell me what you wanted
for me, for this boy? I need you more than ever, but I can no
longer turn to you.
I sit alone in our room, I close my eyes, and there you are
again, sitting on a bench as still and calm as the pond you're
contemplating. Or standing beneath the shade of a tree that is
tall and sturdy like you. You fold your arms, hide your hands
in your sleeves and smile at me, the corners of your lips
barely lifting. But I know what lies behind that small, secret
smile.
Shivering, I see myself quicken my pace to reach you, and you
draw me near, rubbing your beard against my cheek. I can almost
feel the scratchy tickle once more, feel the hard strength of
your body against mine, feel the warmth of your breath against
my ear as you greet me: "My Padawan..."
But when I open my eyes, I'm always alone, and the sunlight
seems to dim. Even if I called you, even if you came, things
wouldn't be the same. Perhaps you could help me understand my
fate and why I feel it is so inextricably bound to this child
of the desert, but I couldn't feel your hands on my skin, your
hardened palms running down my body. Your hands were so large
and strong. I knew them as gentle ministers of pleasure.
"So when I'm lying in my bed/ Thoughts running through my
head..."
I can't bear the thought of leaving our quarters. Not yet. The
healers have told me I ought to think about it, that clinging
to the past is detrimental to both myself and to the child.
But how can I leave when your scent still lingers on the pillow
I wrap myself around each night?
I sit alone in our room, and I weep as I clutch your pillow to
me. Not for your loss, but for nights wasted. I should have
lived in the now instead of assuming we had forever. I should
have lain awake and watched you sleep. I should have soaked in
the sight of you lying beside me and inhaled your scent until I
was drunk on it.
My fingers still hold the memory of you. Sifting through your
hair, smoothing it gently away from your face when you finally
unbound it each night. Stroking your beard and listening to
your soft little sighs. Caressing your warm flesh with muscles
like iron beneath the velvet surface.
And you were there. I never felt your thoughts were
wandering as mine so often did. My mind leapt forwards,
wondering what the next moment would bring even as you held me.
I thought of the caresses to come and of how I would please you
next. Only in that moment of crystalline pleasure was I firmly
grounded in the here and now, but I sensed you were there all
along. Each touch was felt to its fullest degree, and each
moment was savored before it was released.
There were the nights when I rode the controlled power I felt
surging beneath my hands and my body. Riding, but not
harnessing it. I knew better than that. You allowed me to tame
you for a time, and I delighted in touching you, watching you
writhe, knowing I was pleasing you.
Then there were the nights when the drowsing lion woke. You
took me and claimed me with every thrust, your voice a husky
growl against my ear: "Mine...mine...mine..."
I gasped and moaned wordlessly. What I wanted to do was shout,
"Yes, yours! Only yours! Always yours!"
Why didn't I?
"A lot of love and affection/ Whether I'm right or wrong..."
I sit alone in our room and remember how often you watched me
with amused patience as I stumbled through lessons. Will I be
able to cope with the boy's mistakes in the same manner? Will I
help him with the same tolerance you showed me? Or will I
always look at him and see a usurper?
Your last words were to me but not of me. You touched my cheek
and said his name.
I longed for a scant few seconds more, just enough time for you
to tell me what I needed to hear. But those words were denied
me. Instead I must go back to the quiet times when you ran my
braid through your fingers, a proprietary caress. When you sent
a tidal wave of desire along our bond, all the while pretending
to be engrossed in something else entirely. When you held me
close, and I could feel you relax no matter how troubled the
day had been.
All these moments tell me you loved me. You championed him
because you believed in the prophecy, but I was the one who
could ease your burdens.
Yes, his name was on your last breath, but words are of little
consequence. He was on your lips. I was in your heart.
"Wherever it may take me/ I know that life won't break me..."
Our bond as Master and Padawan would have been broken one day
of necessity; I could not have remained your apprentice
forever. But to have it severed so suddenly, so
unexpectedly...I feel as if something has been torn away from
my soul and left me bleeding.
But the Council have placed the responsibility of training the
boy in my hands. I asked. They acquiesced. I am needed here. I
must staunch my wound and find the strength to train him as you
wished.
Master Yoda has said that his future is clouded. I sense the
same, and the worst of it is I fear my own role in the events
to come. He looked to you as a hero, a savior, a Master. I am
merely the Other Jedi, the one who happened to be tagging along
with you. You were snatched from him as you were from me, and
we are both angry at being left with each other when we would
rather have you.
We must overcome this if he is to release his fears and embrace
the Light. I will spend much time in meditation, willing myself
to have the strength and patience to show him the way.
"And when love is dead/ I'm loving angels instead..."
I sit alone in our room with the knife at my wrist, and I
breathe slowly in and out, wishing I were a coward so that I
could escape the prison this world has become.
My trembling fingers drop the knife. The blade will never
pierce my skin, and I know it's your doing that I'm strong
enough to live.
Whatever may come, I will do my best to fulfill your wishes. I
can face anything this life may bring. The worst blow has
already been dealt me.
If I call you, will you come? Will you tell me all those things
you didn't get a chance to say? Will you tell me that you
wanted me? I need you more than ever, but I can no longer turn
to you.
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