Summary: Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan (duh). Stranded. Island. And
coconuts.
Feedback: Pretty please, with sugar on top.
Disclaimer: The characters are Lucas' babies. I promise to
return them in proper shape when I'm done. The story's mine; I
don't think he'd even want it. <g>
Author's Note: This is all Beth [Arritt]'s fault. But she knows
that. And yes, I am capable of writing actual serious
fics. They just take longer. And hyperactive bouncy plot
bunnies like this one are pretty hard to shake off...
There was sand.
Qui-Gon Jinn turned in a slow circle. Sand, sand, sand, sand,
and occasional groves of what he would have called palm trees
if their leaves hadn't been thin, feathery, and bright purple.
Beyond the sand there was water, beyond the water there was
more water, and beyond the more water was yet more water.
Qui-Gon sighed.
When their speeder had malfunctioned, cartwheeling rather
spectacularly into the ocean that covered most of the planet's
surface, he'd considered it a blessing that they were within
easy swimming range of land. But the land, it turned out, was a
small, uninhabited island. Well, uninhabited but for two lost,
sodden Jedi.
A still-wet strand of hair slapped against his cheek, and
Qui-Gon brushed at it irritably. He didn't like swimming; never
had. He didn't like sand either, really, though he suspected
he'd really not like it after this mission. Assuming
there was an after.
Of course, Obi-Wan was hardly the worst person to be stranded
with...
Qui-Gon pondered on that for a moment, smiling, and then forced
the thoughts out of his head.
Salt air is supposed to be invigorating, whispered a
mischievous little voice. In more ways than one.
--and then forced the thoughts out of his head, he
repeated stubbornly.
Really.
Shut up, he told himself, and headed back for their
temporary camp.
Camp, for now, was little more than a place to build a fire
once it got dark. That and a Padawan, as damp as he was,
sprawled on his back on the sand. At first Qui-Gon thought he
was asleep, but there were eddies in the Force that told him
that his Obi-Wan was not only awake, but was using the Force.
As he got closer, he saw something hovering over his Padawan's
chest.
Something round, dark purple, roughly head-sized, and spinning.
Qui-Gon blinked.
"Obi-Wan?"
The boy didn't stir at all. He was staring at the
round-purple-spinning-something with an intent expression.
"Yes, Master?"
"...what...?" Qui-Gon wasn't sure what the best thing to ask
was, what is that or what are you doing.
Obi-Wan's mouth curved in a sudden smile, and one hand came up
to bat the round-purple-spinning-something in Qui-Gon's
direction. Qui-Gon made no move to catch it, and it fell at his
feet with a dull thud. "It's a coconut," Obi-Wan explained,
rolling over onto his stomach. Sand clung damply to his back.
"Thank you," Qui-Gon said a bit dryly. It did look rather
coconutlike, aside from being the wrong color. Cautiously he
bent to pick it up. The coconut was hard and rather fuzzy.
Qui-Gon stared at it a bit suspiciously.
"It might be edible," Obi-Wan suggested.
"It might."
"We could always try opening it and see..."
Qui-Gon smiled. "You're hungry, aren't you?"
"Uh-huh." Obi-Wan nodded, unrepentant, and sat up.
"Very well." Qui-Gon tapped the coconut thoughtfully, then
concentrated on using the Force to crack it open.
Moments later, both Jedi had been sprayed with a sticky purple
liquid.
Obi-Wan took one look at his Master and burst out laughing.
Qui-Gon tried to look stern, but the laughter was too
infectious. And, Qui-Gon had to admit, his apprentice
did look just a bit silly.
"Purple looks good on you, Master," Obi-Wan said, still
laughing.
"Convenient." A drop of the liquid trickled down his cheek to
his lip. Qui-Gon tasted it. "It isn't too bad," he said slowly.
"I don't know yet whether it's poisonous, though..."
"Well, we have two choices. Starve to death, or get poisoned.
Poisoning's faster. And I'm hungry."
Qui-Gon grinned. "Here," he said, handing Obi-Wan half of the
coconut.
His Padawan took the coconut, but also held onto Qui-Gon's
wrist. Slowly, deliberately, he took each of Qui-Gon's fingers
into his mouth in turn, sucking the purple milk off.
With the first one, Qui-Gon started in surprise. By the last,
his eyes were closed. If you were a cat, he told himself
a bit sardonically, you'd be purring.
When he was done, Obi-Wan released his Master's wrist.
Qui-Gon's hand was no less purple, but at least it felt
cleaner. Qui-Gon smiled. "Thank you."
Obi-Wan smiled also, looking up at Qui-Gon through is lashes.
"You're right. It isn't bad." Without looking down, he scooped
out some of the coconut meat, slightly goopy and very purple,
and slurped at it.
The next handful he balanced in his hand as if weighing it.
"Master?"
Qui-Gon looked up from his own half coconut. "Yes?" he started
to say, but stopped as a glob of the coconut meat hit his
cheek. The glob started sliding down to his beard. Qui-Gon
blinked. Obi-Wan stared for a moment, and then started laughing
again.
"Sorry, Master. I was aiming for your mouth." Even through the
laughter, he sounded a bit contrite.
It was the Jedi way to smile and nod and not seek revenge.
Qui-Gon smiled, nodded, and then scooped out a handful of his
own coconut and flung it back at Obi-Wan.
His Padawan ducked, but not enough, and ended up with a purple
splotch in his forehead. The juice dripped down between eyes
wide with surprise.
"Sorry," Qui-Gon said, smiling. "I was aiming for your cheek."
There were advantages, in some situations, to not quite
following the Jedi way.
Night fell quickly on the island, but since the planet had
three moons, one fairly large, it wasn't all that much darker
than an overcast day. The night was balmy; between that and
Obi-Wan's proclivity to set himself on fire whenever he was
near an open flame, Qui-Gon decided there was no need for a
campfire.
They collected enough of the purple feathery leaves to make a
nest in the sand. Obi-Wan lay curled against Qui-Gon, sucking
thoughtfully on one of his Master's fingers.
"Will this stuff wash off, do you think?" he asked, taking the
finger out of his mouth to peer at it critically.
"No idea." If not, they were a good source of dye. They were
also, Qui-Gon pondered, perhaps just a bit intoxicating. Just a
bit.
"We could always pretend to be a new, never-before-discovered
species. 'Cause we are rather purple right now. And we
aren't usually."
"Rather," Qui-Gon repeated dryly. Colors weren't as strong in
the white wash of moonlight, but his Padawan's skin, as well as
all he could see of his own, was rather dark. They'd managed to
eat three coconuts between them; the other four, or possibly
seven-- Qui-Gon couldn't quite keep track-- had been used
mainly as ammunition.
Obi-Wan pillowed his head on his Master's chest and stared up
at the sky. "The stars are pretty," he murmured.
Qui-Gon smiled sleepily. "Mmm-hmm."
"One of them's moving." The Padawan sounded faintly puzzled.
"Really?" Qui-Gon opened his eyes a bit, and then wider. "Oh.
Damn."
"Master?"
"That's not a star. It's a ship."
"Oh." Obi-Wan blinked a couple of times. "Why damn? I thought
we needed to be rescued."
"Yes, but not yet." And not this color, either,
he added silently.
"Oh."
The ship grew from a speck of light to a glinting hulk of
metal. It didn't land-- the sand of the island wasn't stable
enough-- but hovered a few feet off the surface of the beach. A
hatch opened, a ladder came down, and a familiar short figure
stood at the top, waiting.
"Damn," Qui-Gon said again. "This will be...interesting."
Neither Jedi, though, made a move to get up. Finally a
familiar, cranky voice called, "Coming you are? Hmmm?"
Qui-Gon sighed. This was a rescue vessel, he told himself.
Rescue was good. He did not need to be feeling like he
was approaching execution.
"Yes," he called up, and stood. "Coming we are. Right up we
will be."
"Funny that is not."
Qui-Gon shook his head. "Blame the coconuts," he muttered, and
started up the ladder.
Master Yoda was pacing. This was somewhat normal.
In his agitation, he was pacing three feet off the floor. This
was not normal.
"Covered with purple, you are," he observed.
"Yes, Master Yoda," Qui-Gon said. Obi-Wan looked like he was
too busy trying to stifle laughter.
"Dignified, this is not."
"No, Master Yoda."
"Proper, this is not."
"No, Master Yoda."
"Like a Jedi, this is not."
"No, Master Yoda." Qui-Gon tried to look properly repentant.
Obi-Wan just looked amused.
"Obi-Wan."
"Yes, Master Yoda?'
"Listening, are you? Hmm?"
"Of course, Master Yoda. I heard every word."
Yoda's ears twitched. "Good."
There was silence for a moment. Qui-Gon waited patiently.
Obi-Wan shifted, but said nothing. Yoda slowly floated back
down to floor level.
"Go, you may," he said at last, impassively. "Meditate on this,
you will, hmmm? Behave like a Jedi you must. Cover yourselves
in purple..." He gestured irritably. "...purple
something, you should not."
"Yes, Master Yoda," Qui-Gon said.
"Thanks for the advice," Obi-Wan added, a bit cheekily.
Yoda nodded slowly. "Eat at the Temple tonight, you should.
Having a coconut stew, they are. Delicious it is."
Obi-Wan made a sound that could have been a sneeze. It was only
with the greatest of efforts that Qui-Gon kept his own
expression neutral. "We will keep that in mind, Master Yoda."
"Clean yourself first, you should. Purple you are, hmm?" Yoda
cocked his head.
"Yes, Master Yoda."
Outside, Obi-Wan's amusement had dimmed to a quirky smile and a
glimmer in his eyes. "Master Qui-Gon?"
"Yes, my Obi-Wan?"
Obi-Wan spread his hands, which were splotched with purple. "Do
you have any ideas how we're going to get this stuff off?"
Qui-Gon thought for a moment, and then smiled. "Several," he
said serenely, and continued walking.
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