Summary: I depressed myself reading DPS. This was the result.
Notes: Thank you, Mac, for providing the line that got to me,
and also made me start thinking. This was written in earphones
with the "Titanic" and "Back to Titanic" CD playing, so if it's
doubly haunted and sappy, that's why.
Disclaimers: George Lucas created everything the Jedi survey.
I play with QG and OW and make not one red Sith or green Jedi
credit off of them before returning them to the Temple.
"If you light a candle in the Hall of Remembrance, Master, I
will try and find the light."
-Mac, "An Affirming Hand
The audience was silent and respectful as master and padawan
climbed the stairs at opposite ends of the dias only to meet in
the middle. Sunlight glinted off of the golden head, and
Anakin's blue eyes twinkled in good humor. He even winked
Obi-Wan before offering a formal bow, and kneeling. Obi-Wan
looked stern, but Anakin was having none of it; they'd both
worked too hard for this day, discussed it too often, and
unashamedly looked forward to it. It had been as much a goal
for Obi-Wan as it had been a dream for his padawan. Now that
the day of Anakin's knighting was upon them, neither Jedi had
any regrets, or any illusions.
Obi-Wan's hand did not falter as he gathered the padawan braid
and cut cleanly through it with a ceremonial dagger. And so,
both men gained their freedom, and the journey begun thirteen
years before on Tatooine was completed, against all odds.
Rising to his feet, the young knight grinned. Obi-Wan frowned
and shook his head slightly; this moment was traditionally
solemn and Anakin knew it, but the knight's grin only grew
wider.
The next thing you know, he'll hug me and shock everyone in
the garden. He spiked a warning though the training bond.
Anakin chuckled then-a full, rich sound that began deep in his
broad chest and rumbled forth like the growl of a werekat.
Towering over his Master, he wrapped him up in a fearsome hug.
Obi-Wan groaned at the irrepressible enthusiasm, but
nonetheless returned the hug and blinked at the warmth flooding
the bond.
"Thank you," Anakin murmured. "For everything. I know that I
never made it easy."
"No, you didn't. But I'd still not trade a moment of it,
Padawan." Obi- Wan drew back to press the severed golden braid
into Anakin's hand. "I'm sure that your mother will want this
relic, even if you don't."
Backing away, Obi-Wan gestured to focus the crowd's attention
on Anakin, and surrendered the moment. "I give you Jedi Knight
Skywalker."
Anakin made the usual bow to the assembly, and Obi-Wan was
certain that he winked at his mother. Standing in the front
row, Shmi was weeping for the Jedi her son had become, but
still laughed through her tears.
The crowd roared its approval and surged forward to
congratulate the new-made knight as Anakin leaped off of the
dias. Retracing his steps in a more dignified manner, Obi-Wan
avoided the enthusiastic crowd. Skirting its edges, he heaved a
deep sigh of relief that his part in this day was officially
over, regardless Anakin's celebration was just beginning. He
was contented to watch from a distance as Amidala and her
handmaidens descended on the knight who had asked her to marry
him when he had been little more than ten years old.
"Ask me again when you're older," had been her amused reply.
Anakin was older now, and their wedding was planned for early
fall on Naboo, when the planet was at its most radiant, and the
Queen's schedule allowed for a week-long wedding celebration.
Taking shelter beneath the shade of a dakonda tree, Obi-Wan
leaned against its trunk and took another deep breath to ground
himself. Stepping up beside the knight, Mace Windu crossed his
arms and stared across at Anakin, who towered over every guest.
"Congratulations, Master Kenobi."
"Master?" Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow in surprise, and shivered
slightly to hear the honorific applied to himself. "Not quite
yet, sir. I've not even considered petitioning Council for a
change in title."
"You should." He clapped a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.
"Despite all of the odds, you did it. The darkness and the
anger we saw in Anakin all of those years ago is gone. If he's
dangerous now, it's only to the enemies of the Republic and
through those monster hugs he enjoys terrorizing everyone
with."
"I certainly hope so," Obi-Wan murmured. "I'd not have
recommended him for his trials if there had been any question
about that."
The band Anakin had wheedled for the occasion began playing,
and Anakin immediately snagged Amidala's hand to drag her off
to the center of the garden. How many times have I seen him
do that over the years? Obi- Wan pondered. Does he ever
ask her to go with him, or does he simply... take charge?
She didn't seem to mind, whenever his hand enfolded hers like
a beast's might enfold a maiden's. Looking at his padawan in
Coruscant's afternoon light, Obi-Wan saw a huge,
broad-shouldered warrior whose energy and enthusiam was
endless. Over the last few months, their relationship had
changed until Anakin had become more friend than padawan.
Obi-Wan wondered if such was the case with all masters and
their padawan.
"I predict that Anakin and the Queen are standing on the brink
of a life of which legends will be made," Mace murmured. "Your
padawan's training was a miracle all by itself. I've been
meaning to ask how you did it."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You brought an angry, dangerous young man from the edge of
the Dark and guided him into a total commitment to the Light.
How did you do it?"
Obi-Wan frowned upward and folded his arms in his robes. "I'm
not certain what you're asking, Master. With the Council's
guidance, I followed the basic curriculum for all padawan
training."
"Of course you did. But from the moment of Qui-Gon Jinn's
death, you know that the Council kept a close eye on you. All
of us watched you, and some of us feared that you'd fall to the
Dark yourself." He turned to stare down at the knight. "You
returned from Naboo a broken young man, Obi-Wan. Your grief was
so deep that several of us, including Yoda, despaired of your
finding yourself again. Within days, however, you had regained
your peace, focused totally on Anakin, and commenced guiding
your irrepressible and irresponsible padawan through thirteen
years of training as easily and completely as if you'd done it
before. As far as any of us could tell, you no longer grieved
for your master. After those first few days, you never looked
back. How did you do it?"
"Does it matter?" Obi-Wan murmured, his gaze skirting away
from Windu's. "Anakin has been knighted today, and my promise
to Qui-Gon is finally fulfilled. The Order has received one of
the strongest in the Unifying Force, and-"
"It matters, Knight Kenobi, because I do not understand how a
raw, inexperienced knight can possibly have trained a boy with
as much potential power for destruction-Anakin's own as well as
ours-and never put a foot wrong. Yes, your Padawan got into
trouble, but what Padawan doesn't? He did his share of
late-night commissary duty and extra lessons, as did all of us.
That's not what I'm talking about. I want to know how, by all
the Sith hells, you managed to teach him, train him, serve
countless missions with him, and effortlessly impart to him
things that you never should have known. Things you should have
asked a number of masters for help regarding."
"I-"
"Anakin was taught techniques for battle and diplomacy that
you didn't know." Windu's voice softened to a growl. "Things
learned only in the field. Things only seasoned masters know.
How is that?"
Obi-Wan Kenobi put his hands behind his back and studied the
tips of his boots for a long moment. "You're not going to let
this go until you're satisfied by my answers, are you?"
"No."
"Will there be an official Council interrogation on the matter
if I refuse to answer?"
"I hope you'll tell me Jedi to Jedi, rather than force me to
involved the Council, Knight Kenobi."
Obi-Wan nodded and pondered a moment. "Alright, Master. I had
help."
"Of course you had help!" Windu snapped. "Anakin trained with
the best the Temple has to offer. But that doesn't explain-"
"That's not quite what I mean."
"Then what do you mean?"
"You're right in saying that, when I came back from Naboo, I
was in no shape to teach anyone anything. If someone had
suggested then that I follow my master into death, I would have
done so with alacrity. I missed him more than any of you can
possibly know, I felt totally unprepared to be a knight-never
mind a master to Anakin-and I was terrified at the prospect of
trying to teach him anything. I agreed with you; the boy was
dangerous."
"And?" Windu prodded when Obi-Wan stopped talking to watch
Anakin begin another dance with Amidala. Catcalls and
protestations from a number of padawans and a few other guests
from Naboo and the Temple intruded over the music.
"If my pada-if Anakin doesn't remember his manners and start
dancing with his other friends soon, there will probably be a
revolt."
"Obi-Wan!"
Calm gray-green eyes looked up at him. "I told you, I had
help." Obi- Wan smiled softly, remembering.
Obi-Wan made his way slowly down the spiraling stone
staircase, deep into the bowels of the catacombs housing the
bodies and ashes of the Jedi dead. Water dripped endlessly on
stone here, patiently carving groves into the obsidian steps.
It was silent and it was dark, save for the glow from new
lightsaber he'd constructed, and the scraping of his boots on
the unforgiving rock. Obi-Wan knew not to slip, not to fall. If
he did, no one would ever find him, for no one would ever know
to look for him. It was deep into Coruscant's night, and the
rest of the Temple slept. The training bond he shared with
Anakin was all but non- existent in these early days, and
Qui-Gon was gone, unable to rescue him if he fell. Qui-Gon
being gone was the reason Obi-Wan was down here in the first
place, where most Jedi never went, never would want to go.
He'd been here once before, descending into the darkness alone
with a small stone box that contained Qui-Gon's ashes.
Wandering through the catacombs with his master's saber held
like beacon before him, he'd finally selected an isolated ledge
covered with pale green lichen with a peaceful aura. Leaning
against the cold stone, he had scraped the box back as far as
his arm would reach, so that it disappeared in the shadows.
What was left of Qui-Gon Jinn would rest, undisturbed, through
the ages, until another Jedi came and placed another box to be
companion to his. That might happen next week, or it might take
a millennium.
"Rest in the Force, my Master."
His words had slid over the rocks, a sibilant whisper lost in
the darkness with no one but Obi-Wan to hear them. With a deep
sigh, he'd given up talking to the silence before he'd even
begun. Retracing his steps back up the stone stairway, he'd
returned to the light of the maze-like Temple corridors to
gather the young boy he now called padawan, and visit Stores to
get him a set of robes and other supplies. He'd not looked
back-not then. It had hurt far too much to try looking back.
It still hurt, and even bigger than Obi-Wan's pain was his
fear. Tonight, the task Qui-Gon had left him seemed far too
daunting, too terrifying. He wasn't experienced enough,
knowledgeable enough to teach the boy. Surely Qui-Gon had known
that? Why, then, had he asked his padawan-not even a knight at
the time-to train Anakin Skywalker?
Obi-Wan had known impatience and anger in his youth, but
Anakin's erratic fury was deeper and more chaotic than any
Obi-Wan had experienced. For a Jedi who had been raised in
peace and serenity, it was difficult at times for Obi-Wan to
even be near Anakin, and the emotional bleed-over through the
bond made those times even worse, as there was no escape. The
boy's spiked emotions clawed at Obi-Wan until he felt as though
he were drowning in darkness. He couldn't think or breathe,
couldn't ground or instruct in the face of such dark emotions.
How, then, could he be expected to form a training bond with
the child? And how could he continue keeping these terrors from
the Council?
Reaching the bottom of the stairway this night, Obi-Wan turned
and followed a narrow corridor leading to a small chapel. A box
of white candles draped in cobwebs sat at the entrance.
Brushing aside the cobwebs, he took a candle and scraped its
wick against the stone. It flared to life, and he doused his
lightsaber before stepping across the chapel's threshold.
Tilting the candle, he dripped wax onto a rough stone
outcropping and set the candle in its center. Going down on one
knee, he braced his hands on his thigh and centered on the
flame. Steadying his breath, he gradually became one with the
soft orange light to let it fill his mind as well as his
vision. Around him, the darkness edged closer, cocooning him.
"Master, I'm scared," he whispered. He shivered, but did not
move closer to the candle. No external heat source could help
the coldness he felt-the soul-deep loneliness and despair that
had claimed him since Qui-Gon had died.
"You trained me well to face so many things, but I don't know
what I'm doing with Anakin. I'm doing my best, Master, but it's
not good enough," he confessed to the light, choking the words
out past the tightness in his throat. "How could I? I haven't
your wisdom, your experience, or your patience. Anakin is just
a boy, but he's willful and obstinate and disobedient, and Yoda
was right-there is much anger in him."
Shifting his weight back, Obi-Wan sat down hard on the rock
and crossed his legs. Above him, the candle flickered, but did
not go out.
"I don't know how to temper that anger, how to transform it,"
he muttered. "I only know that it must be transformed.
His anger must be purged by the Light, or I'll lose him.
We'll lose him. He's capable of wielding so much power in the
Force now, what will happen if I can't teach him to dissolve
the rage he feels at having been enslaved? At having to leave
his mother behind? What if that rage consumes him, and he turns
it against us one day?"
Obi-Wan gazed around the chapel and peered at the tiny little
boxes crowded on the ledges at the edge of his wan circle of
light. Each one represented a Jedi's life, wisdom gained in
peace. None of the little boxes offered any answers, nor could
Obi-Wan feel anything of them in the Force. Not even his own
master's aura. That, perhaps, was the most frightening thing of
all-to think that perhaps he was confessing his terror and his
need with no one there to hear, no one to care, and no one to
help.
"What does it mean, Master: 'There is no death, there is only
the Force'?" he whispered. "Are you there? Can you hear me and
do you still care, or am I totally on my own now?"
Bowing his head, he closed his eyes and listened for a long
time. The candle's flame stirred; its flickering teased through
his eyelids. Opening his eyes, he watched the flame sputter as
if some breeze passed over it. But there were no breezes here,
this deep into Coruscant.
Coming up on both knees, he spoke to the flame as though it
were a doorway to where his master was now. "I miss you so
much, and I need you so much. If there's any way you can hear
me, if there's any way I can reach you.... Help me, Master.
Please."
The candle guttered fully, leaving him in total darkness. He
reached for it, only to draw his hand back when it re-ignited
itself and changed its light from orange to green. His breath
caught on a sob, he blinked through tears. Deliberately blowing
out the candle, he laughed when it flared again, insistent,
refusing to be denied or ignored.
"Yes!" Obi-Wan leaped to his feet, his shout joyous. Advancing
on the candle, he cupped the flame between his hands, closed
his eyes and tilted back his head. The hair on the back of his
neck prickled at the presence of someone standing so close,
their breath could have stirred his hair - if they had been
capable of breathing. His trembling fingers were cupped
round-whisper-touched-and then surrounded by warmth- a warmth
independent of wax and wick.
"You're here."
The flame danced and it was enough, and yet... it wasn't.
"I still can't hear you," Obi-Wan whispered.
The whisper-touch grew firmer, entwining his fingers before
falling away. He shivered when that touch found his cheek. It
was heat, it was pressure, and it was calloused in ways so
familiar that it hurt.
"Don't misunderstand me, please, Qui-Gon," he whispered. "I
appreciate the effort and now I know that you're there. But...
it's not nearly enough for the task you've set before me.
You're so close and yet, so far away. So impossibly far away."
Turning in the circle of that touch, he shook his head when it
moved away, leaving him bereft of its warmth. "I can't be the
first padawan to lose his master, or the first padawan to need
to talk to his master after death. If I could hear you, what
would you tell me to do in order for me to hear you?"
He looked back at the flame and watched it change again-every
so slowly and with deliberate intent-from orange to green.
"What do I need to do if I'm to hear you, Master?"
Obi-Wan ignored the Jedi archives of the past 1,000 years or
so that were totally accessible to everyone from initiates to
masters on the comp-consoles located throughout the Temple. He
ignored them to smile and charm his way past the library
cubicles and the knights assigned as custodians to those
archives. A wink and a grin, a bit of wheedling and three
appointments with the head archivist gave him total and
independent access to the long-ignored Temple tower that housed
the real books-the handwritten tomes and Books of Light penned
by Masters long dead.
Total access, he thought smugly to himself, laying his
hand over the sensor and feeling satisfied when it recognized
him. And all I had to do is recall six hours' worth of
memories of being your padawan. Were you aware of how much the
archivist loves our adventures, Master?
"We've incorporated everything into the current treatises and
dissertations," he was assured curtly in the beginning of his
quest.
"Still..." He pretended to ponder. "It would be nice to hold
the actual books in my hands."
"Eh? Pining for the leather and parchment, are you? Just like
your old Master."
The archivist had smirked; she felt she was getting the better
part of this deal, while he would soon be bored with dusty old
books. Obi-Wan knew better. Somewhere in that dust was the
information he needed to hear Qui-Gon.
The stairway wound up the center of the tower, fed off into
myriad rooms containing myriad books that the Jedi now
considered archaic. "Ancient esoteric writings of no interest,"
proclaimed the archivist, and so they were neglected in their
rooms, stacked in utter chaos. No index could help Obi-Wan;
from the beginning, he let the Force guide him.
He blew the dust of five hundred years off of the books and
carefully opened them, only to discover that the ink upon their
parchment was long faded and mostly invisible to his eyes. And
so he learned a new way of seeing because he needed to read the
words. When he came to read the words, he found that he was
learning how to enter a whole new world. Living and unifying
Force, light and dark, it was all here for him to ponder, to
study through the night and often half into the next morning.
When he wasn't studying, he was training Anakin or meditating
on what he'd learned.
He had no way of knowing that his demeanor was slowly changing
as he absorbed what he read; his eyes grew less sad and more
serious, his grounding in the Force gave him a deep peace, a
silence, and a focused purpose. He looked older and carried
himself with a new maturity. As his fears settled, so did
Anakin's anger. As Obi-Wan's studies grew, so did his
knowledge.
Making his way into the tower each night, he slowly and
painstakingly learned to walk what modern Jedi scholars
scoffingly called the path of the Jedi-Mage; he stood
physically in a Jedi tower on Coruscant while grounded
spiritually in his Master's teachings, and learned how to cast
out his heart and his imagination, to walk between the seen and
the unseen worlds and gather the knowledge that he needed so
desperately.
Once he learned how to open his heart and imagination at will,
without having to be in the tower, he came to hear a voice in
his mind. Kind and deep, calming and familiar, it helped guide
his lessons with Anakin, gave him the words and the patience,
the knowledge and the insight to teach the boy almost without
effort. Almost. But no effort would have meant no learning for
the Knight made Master before his time, and so he was
encouraged to keep learning-to reach, to question, to grow.
He was no longer alone, and so many were the lessons that, for
a time, he forgot to be lonely. And so, he learned to hear his
Master's voice. But still, it was not enough.
Kneeling in his quarters on the meditation mat once used by
his Master, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and grounded in the Force.
It was a living presence in his mind now, an energy field that
he could not only sense but actually see. It was a mental plane
to walk upon in confidence, accessed through his imagination
and given solidity by his concentration. Even now, he was
learning to take its power and use it as a shield in battle.
The Force was no longer just a word; it had become another
world for Obi-Wan.
Let us have a quiet garden tonight, he commanded the
energy, and it obeyed, bending itself to his will and his whim.
Let us have grass and talaban trees, with a quarter moon
balanced in the trees and a subtle scent of chorjal in the air.
Let the path be easy through the trees, and the pond be still,
as still as the soul.
The Force wove Obi-Wan's vision until, with the boots of his
toes being licked by the lapping water and teased by the
reflection of the silvered moon, he drew a deep breath and gave
a final command.
Let my Master be here with me.
"Obi-Wan."
He turned, only to find his shoulders grasped, himself clasped
and held close to a heart he could feel beating strong in its
barrel chest. He burrowed into the big man's shoulder, nuzzled
into the long, soft hair to let its familiar scent surround
him. Large hands spread over his back, strong arms enfolded him
until he could not breathe, did not care if he ever breathed
again. He was held fast against a solid wall of muscle, so
known and so beloved that a sob caught in his throat when he
tried to speak. Instead, he just held on.
His hands came up to tangle in Qui-Gon's hair; he
finger-combed it and smoothed it back, smiled to see the
beloved laugh lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes, and
wept to see the crooked smile the big man gave.
"I've missed you so much, Master," he managed to whisper.
Long fingers caressed his cheek. He felt traces of sorrow in
the gesture, remembered as the last time they had touched.
Leaning into the touch, he instinctively reached through the
bond they had shared, and found it intact once again. He gasped
as Qui-Gon dropped his shields, entwined his presence through
Obi-Wan's heart and mind.
"I've been right here all along. I'd never leave you."
"Yes, but-" Turning his cheek, he nuzzled Qui-Gon's palm. "I
couldn't hear you, couldn't see you."
"You seem to have learned how, now." Tilting Obi-Wan's head
up, Qui-Gon wiped away his tears. "Padawan, please listen to
me. When I asked you to promise to train Anakin, I didn't mean
that you'd have to do it alone."
"How else should I do it?"
"You can see me, now. You can hear me, now. Let me help, any
way that I can."
Leaning back, Obi-Wan stroked the grizzled beard with the
backs of his hands. His fingers traveled on to trace his
Master's eyebrows, his crooked nose, his lips.
"What are you doing, Obi-Wan?" came the question with much
affection.
"Remembering you. Loving you. Satisfying myself that you're
real. Memorizing small details so that I can take them out and
look at them when you're not there."
"Obi-Wan-" Qui-Gon began, only to break off and shake his head
with a slight smile.
"What is it? What were you going to say?"
"If you wish it, there will never be a time when I am not
there."
It took a moment for the words to sink in. When they did,
Obi-Wan grinned a wolfish grin that made Qui-Gon laugh.
"You may regret that you ever told me that, Master. And so,
when do you move in?"
Obi-Wan spread his hands. "And so... my Master moved in. A few
months later, and I could see him on this physical level. We
both trained Anakin, and in time Anakin learned to hear and see
Qui-Gon, too."
Mace Windu narrowed his eyes. "And you never told the
Council."
"We all thought it best not to. I'm sure that you and the
others would have thought of a few reasons as to why a master
who has passed into the Force isn't allowed to help train his
former padawan's padawan."
Windu snorted. "After what you've told me, Obi-Wan, I
seriously doubt that we'd have been able to stop you."
Obi-Wan shrugged. "I still think it was best not to risk it.
What we did worked."
The Councilman's arm stole around Obi-Wan's shoulders. "You'll
teach the rest of us how you did it, won't you?"
Gray-green eyes widened. "I don't think very many of the Jedi
are ready to go walking through the worlds like that, Master.
Besides which, I have plans."
"Plans?"
Nodding, Obi-Wan took a few steps forward, out of the shadows
of the tree and into the light. Coincidentally, it also removed
him from Windu's touch. "My promise to Qui-Gon is fulfilled.
I'm free to choose where I want to be."
"And where is that?"
Obi-Wan offered a small, secretive smile. "I've not yet made
up my mind. You'll be one of the first to know, when I do. But
shall we join the festivities, Master? Anakin is waiting."
Kneeling in his quarters on the meditation mat once used by
his Master, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and grounded in the Force.
As always, Qui-Gon was just over there, a constant and
sparkling presence in his mind. If he narrowed his focus just a
little, he could open his eyes and turn his head and see his
Master, kneeling before him.
"It's done."
"Thank you, Obi-Wan. I know that it's not been easy. Is
Council letting you select your next mission?"
"I don't want another mission," came the calm announcement. "I
want to be with you."
An eyebrow arched in surprise. "There's a certain difficulty
inherent in that desire, don't you think, my Padawan?"
"No. I'm done in this world, Qui-Gon. No, hear me out before
you protest that I'm destined to train two more padawans and be
a great Jedi Master. That's not what I want."
Frowning slightly, Qui-Gon listened. In fact, Obi-Wan got the
impression that if he had tried to deflect this conversation,
such deflection would not have been allowed.
"When I was twelve, I wanted to be your padawan... and I was.
The years we shared together were the happiest of my life. For
as long as I can remember, I wanted to be a Jedi knight, and I
am. But I had another dream-a dream interrupted on Naboo and by
Anakin-and that was to be with you."
"I'm not sure I understand."
Rising from the meditation mat, Obi-Wan offered his hand. "You
will, Master. For now, would you just show me your world, and
let me be with you? Everything else will work out if you'll
just do that for me, Qui- Gon."
Gaining his feet, and looming over Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon took his
hand. "Of course."
In leading Obi-Wan from the room, Qui-Gon also led him out of
the physical world. He'd done it many times before, as they'd
gone to the space between worlds to discuss this or that
portion of Anakin's training, or a problem on a mission to
which Obi-Wan had been assigned. It was only as he looked back
that the Jedi Master truly understood the decision and the
request that Obi-Wan had made. There, on the Master's old
meditation mat so recently vacated by his former Padawan, lay
an empty set of Jedi robes.
Worried blue eyes met gray-green. "Obi-Wan... Are you sure
that you have no regrets? This is what you want to do?"
"It's all that I've worked for, all that I've wanted for a
very long time. Longer than you can possibly know."
"I don't know about that, Obi-Wan." Memories flooded the bond
between them when Qui-Gon touched his former Padawan's cheek.
- a slender boy on Bandomeer, offering to die so that others
might live, already Jedi in his unselfish compassion. "Live,
and be my Padawan," said the tall man that Obi-Wan desperately
wanted to save.
- a slender braid held between long, thick fingers as another
bead of accomplishment was added and his Master's heart swelled
with pride. Reaching out, he hugged the boy to him.
Great! Obi-Wan had thought. When he hugged me last
year, I only came up to his sternum. I just mashed my nose on
his chest, so I'm getting taller!
-the boy grown to manhood, watching his Master fight, speak,
negotiate, sleep, walk, shower, heal, bleed. Just living with
Qui-Gon, day in and day out, until the realization hit one
morning as Obi-Wan set a cup of tea before the big Jedi: I'm
in love with him.
-the Master who felt the jolt through the bond as the
realization hit, whose hand trembled as he thanked his Padawan
and drank the tea, knowing that his own love and need was
mirrored in the beautiful man sitting beside him, yet could not
be acted upon as long as Obi-Wan was a Padawan.
"I meant to tell you, when you were knighted," Qui-Gon
whispered. "But...."
"But Naboo happened, and there was no time." His smile was
sad, but contained no bitterness. "There's time now, Master. In
fact, there's all eternity, if we want it. If you still want
me."
Qui-Gon touched Obi-Wan's cheek with the tips of his fingers,
just as he had before, in benediction for a life that was
ending too soon. "I can say now what I couldn't say then. I
love you, my Obi-Wan."
Sliding his arms around Qui-Gon, he leaned into the touch. "I
love you, too, Master. Let's go home."
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