Cheeseburgers in Paradise

by Lapis Lazuli and Lori

Rated: PG

Pairing: Q/O preslash

Archive: to M-A and our websites only please

Feedback: onlist or off

Notes: This was written as something for the SWVS and it didn't quite fit so we're turning it loose on ya'll. Feedback gladly accepted and we just might make it a series. The title was inspired by a late night titling session and Jimmy Buffet. If it works out you'll be seeing more off that album ;-)

Obi-Wan slid into the mud face first.

"Padawan! Are you injured?" Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn reached for his now-slimy apprentice. Words that didn't usually come out of his padawan blistered the air around them. When he'd calmed slightly something far more polite was ventured.

"Fine, master. I'm giving up being clean any time before we return to Coruscant, though."

"Well, no one ever said that you had to be clean to be a Jedi." Qui-Gon chuckled. "In fact I can think of several highly respected Masters that spent most of their lives in much the same condition you are in right now, Padawan." He helped the mud-covered man to his feet. "Though I must admit, they did it by choice."

"Yes, master." Obi-Wan scraped the mud away from his eyes and blinked. "And people want to colonize this place?"

"One man's mudhole is another man's paradise, Obi-Wan. The Colonial Office has three groups applying for this planet, not to mention a delegation from the Galactic Environmental Engineering Corporation trying to have it set aside as a natural preserve." Qui-Gon pointed towards a lighter spot in the thickly vegetated landscape. "Let's try through there - perhaps we can find a clearing to make camp in - it'll be dark soon."

Hair that he was accustomed to seeing as reddish-blond dripped mud with disturbing regularity down Obi-Wan's cheek as the younger man nodded. "I'll keep the lead. No sense in both of us getting shrouded in this coveted earth." He turned away, hefting his pack further up on one shoulder and set off again. Almost immediately he vanished into the thick greenery, only the (mostly) light colored tunic giving away his position.

Qui-Gon fell in behind, chuckling under his breath. Obi-Wan was taking his role as senior padawan seriously on this trip. Probably much too seriously - but time and experience would fix that problem. At least, he hoped it would - and if it didn't he would have to give Time and Experience a helping hand.

For now, though, Obi-Wan was doing a splendid job of becoming an accomplished Jedi Knight - and would probably be surprised at how close he was to becoming just that. A few more months, maybe a year at the most...

"Master?" Obi-Wan pointed. A small clearing, big enough for a fire and someplace to stretch out, one at a time. It was the biggest space they'd seen since they had been dropped off two days ago, on a rocky plateau that nothing would grow on. The previous night had been spent in a tree. Not something he was interested in repeating quite this soon.

"This will do quite nicely - I hear running water over there, too." Qui-Gon slid his pack to the ground. "Why don't you go get cleaned off while I start dinner. Bring back a few liters of water will you?" Pawing through the pack, the Jedi master began unloading pots and foodstuffs. Obi-Wan didn't bother with speaking - there was only the thud of his pack hitting the ground and the rustle of greenery.

::That mud must have reached the drying itchy stage::

Well, perhaps his native good humor would return when he was clean and fed - most Padawans seemed to respond well to that kind of therapy. Though it had taken him a while to figure that out - his own Master had seemed to see nothing wrong in being covered in mud for days. So much so that Padawan Jinn was certain Jedi wore tan and brown robes so they wouldn't have to do laundry so often.

A splash from the direction of the creek, and a groaning sigh of relief, told Qui-Gon all he needed to know - Obi-Wan would be fine. Sorting out what he needed to make a vegetable stew, he raised his voice a bit. "Obi-Wan? Can you bring me that water now?"

"Yes, master!" Less than a minute later his padawan reappeared. Carrying three liter bottles and all of his clothes. Obi-Wan was absolutely clean - and naked.

A stray beam of sunlight turned spiky-wet red hair into a copper crown as Qui-Gon stared at his apprentice. Rivulets of water slid down valleys of muscle and sinew, highlighting each ripple and twist.

::Gods - the man is beautiful.::

Suddenly remembering he was staring at his Padawan, he forced himself to focus on the three bottles being held out to him. "Thank you, Padawan." The three words came out odd even to his own ears, rough and low.

Obi-Wan must have caught some hint of it because he casually shifted his dripping clothes to cover his groin. "You're welcome. If you'd like to bathe I can watch the food..."

Dragging his eyes back up to Obi-Wan's, Qui-Gon forced his facial muscles into a weak grin. "No thank you, Obi-Wan. I'll bathe after dinner - for some reason food left cooking around you suddenly becomes inedible." The master poured water into the pot and started tossing in veggies and seasonings.

"Master, it was only the one time - and Master Yoda declared it edible."

"Padawan, Master Yoda also thinks Master Yaddle is the sexiest thing in twelve systems."

That got a shudder and then an indignant look. "Are you comparing my cooking to Master Yaddle?"

"Now, my Padawan - I would never insult Master Yaddle that way. Ethics and good sense prevent it. Not to mention her swing with that little gimmer stick of hers."

Obi-Wan hefted his shirt and then lofted it, hitting Qui-Gon across the face with a wet 'thwap'. Grabbing his pack, he fled into the woods, rightly understanding that discretion was the better part of valor in this case. Qui-Gon roared with laughter, peeling the wet muslin from his face and catching a glimpse of skin as his Padawan disappeared. Hmmm - perhaps his Obi-Wan wasn't taking the senior padawan thing as seriously as he had thought, after all.

There was an urgent feeling tug to his shirt, bringing Qui-Gon quickly back to consciousness. "Padawan?"

There was a distressed wheeze and then, "Mastah, I can't bweve."

Qui-Gon opened his eyes to see his apprentice slumped against a fallen tree, light from the small fire turning a swollen face into a gargoyle mask of pain. Rising from his pallet, the Jedi Master knelt at the young man's side, his sleep-fogged brain trying to sort itself out. He reached for the Force and his Padawan, trying to figure out what had happened.

Touching his face gently, Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan's struggle to breathe, and sense his body's over-reaction to the invading allergen causing the histamine reaction. "Well, Padawan - it looks like you're allergic to something - and since the only thing you've touched that I didn't was the mud bog, I would guess it was something in there."

Qui-Gon stretched his arm out behind himself and felt his pack land in his hand. Pulling it forward, he opened the small med-kit and slapped a small patch over his Padawan's thickening neck. "That's a general antihistamine, but I'm afraid this is going to get worse before it gets better, Obi-Wan."

"Wunneful. Tank you, mastah." Obi-Wan leaned back against the tree, clearly trying to relax. "And peopfe vant to live here?" The padawan dug out his datapad. "Mafing a note about the mud."

Qui-Gon leaned over and deftly snagged the pad. "We're going to have to do something about your overdone sense of duty, Padawan. I will make notes about mud. You will lie there quietly, concentrating on using the Force to help your body run through this reaction, and incidentally making sure your trachea doesn't swell shut." While I monitor your progress, he added silently. He didn't like the way his Padawan's arms and wrists were starting to swell, and he suspected that whatever this was, it was not responding to the antihistamine.

::Damn::

Obi-Wan's eyes had widened at that command, perhaps he hadn't wanted to believe the seriousness of his dilemma. He nodded and closed his eyes, clearly trying to meditate and ease his labored breathing. Qui-Gon reached over and ran his hand up under Obi-Wan's left ear, finding a pounding pulse and clammy skin. Swearing under his breath, the master placed his ear over his apprentice's chest. A faint rattling noise greeted his ear as he listened to lungs struggling to remain open and functional.

Touching the bond between them, he reassured the man on the other end and felt a trickle of response in return. He felt a light pressure on the top of his head, and drew back in surprise.

Obi-Wan blinked at him muzzily, and it might have been a smile on his face - but with the swelling distorting the lines of his face it was hard to tell. His hand dropped back down, resting on the tree root again. "Sowwy." A dry, wheezy cough floated up from Obi-wan's lungs.

"About what? Never mind - save your breath for yourself."

Obi-Wan nodded, but he would gladly have shared his breath or any other part of himself - if his master needed it. But he didn't. Qui-Gon was taking care of him in a way he hadn't experienced since his first days as a padawan. Trying very hard not to resent the reasons, he found himself enjoying the unusual closeness between them.

His master felt so warm and comfortable, even through the distress that was closing up his throat and beginning to fill his lungs. His chest was starting to feel heavy, moreso than even the swelling could really account for and he was beginning to wonder if this was the 'worse' Qui-Gon had alluded to.

Letting his gaze drift, he could just pick out the light rounded shape of his master's face in the darkness and the edges of a worried expression. So it was serious, probably more serious than Qui-Gon had told him. He blinked and wondered if his eyes were swelling shut too, considering how blurry his vision was. "Mastah?" he croaked. "Not getting bettah am I?"

Qui-Gon reached out to comfort his patient, patting him gently on the arm. "Not yet, my friend - but hang in there." He closed his eyes and concentrated on Obi-Wan, using the Force to monitor his vital signs. Gently, with the touch only a master possessed, he held the walls of his Padawan's trachea open and kept precious air flowing.

::Just hang in there, my Obi-Wan::

He watched silently as the distressed young man breathed a little bit easier and fell into a fitful doze, his rest disturbed occasionally by wheezing fits interspersed with weak mumbles of protest. But even as Obi-Wan rested, Qui could hear a damp rattle adding itself on to the wheezing, indicating lungs that were slowly but surely filling up with fluids. Whatever this allergen was, it was vicious, and if Qui-Gon didn't do something soon, it was going to kill his Padawan.

Dawn found him hunched over Obi-Wan, who was now drifting in and out of consciousness. The facial swelling had gone down some, enough that he wasn't wheezing quite so badly, but the rattling cough had increased. His eyes flickered open. "Mastah?"

Qui-Gon reached out to sooth his Padawan. "Shhh, Obi-Wan - you're all right." He reached for his med-kit again, placing another antihistamine patch next to the first.

"You know you really shouldn't tell such lies to people you love." The muscles in Obi-Wan's legs started twitching.

Qui-Gon froze for a fraction of a second, then put away the med-kit and reached for the commlink. "Of course I love you, Obi-Wan - you're my Padawan. It's part of the job description." He managed a weak smile - hopefully his small admission would cover his somewhat deceitful omission. "It'll be full light soon, and I'll be able to call a shuttle down for us."

"Mastah," Obi-Wan grabbed his sleeve, "You know I love you. I have forever, and I always will!" The outburst triggered a coughing fit worse than any so far, so severe that Obi-Wan began to curl in on himself, holding his ribcage and grimacing. The wet cough produced a disgusting yellowish sputum which the young Jedi spat onto the ground.

Reaching over, Qui-Gon helped his Padawan back to a sitting postion and listened to his lungs once more. Damn - the fluids were bad and getting worse - this could rapidly go from a severe allergic reaction to pneumonia. No wonder Obi-Wan was spewing nonsense. He probably had hypoxia along with everything else, and oxygen deprivation could do odd things to the mind. "Hush, Obi-Wan - rest yourself. We will talk of love later."

"Good. I want to talk about it at length -- and in depth." Obi-Wan grinned lopsidedly, going from sincere protestation to slightly risque puns in the space of a few seconds.

Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master, Order of Coruscant, dropped his jaw and stared at his obviously raving companion.

"Oh come on. Don't tell me you haven't thought about it, Qui. I haven't worked out this much just to be fit. A padawan has to be devastatingly handsome to catch your eye." Obi-Wan paused significantly, looking up at him, his breath wheezing slightly. "And I am, aren't I?"

That tore it - a classic case of oxygen depletion causing muscle spasms, behavioral changes and hallucinations. The Obi-Wan Kenobi he knew would never be this self-centered - much less this forwardly emotional. Time for a healing trance and a call to their survey ship to get a shuttle down here as soon as possible.

"Yes, yes, you're a very handsome man, Padawan", Qui-Gon soothed. Another wheezing coughing fit brought up more of the vile substance from his lungs. "You're not well Obi-Wan - I think we're going to have to resort to the healing trance. I know you've used it before. Just follow my lead in the Force and we'll have you out in no time."

"But it isn't out I want, master." Obi-Wan closed his eyes though and his tone turned peevish. "And I know do know how to trance - you taught me yourself."

"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon let just a touch of sternness enter his voice. "We are going to put you in a healing trance. Now. You are very ill and I want no more nonsense from you."

::Please, in the names of all the hundred little gods, no more nonsense - I can't deal with that right now.::

Qui reached out and put a hand lightly on either side of Obi-Wan's head. In a gentler tone, he said, "Close your eyes, Padawan, and just follow me."

"All right, Master." His eyes closed and he took a shallow, shuddering breath. "You're still a liar - but I love you."

Qui-Gon shut his own eyes and sighed in exasperation. "I know."

Obi-Wan went easily into the trance, betraying his body's real need for the healing power it would exert. His master tapped the recall signal on his commlink to request an emergency pickup. Looking around the clearing, he realized it wasn't large enought to land the shuttle in. Stretching out with the Force, he located a good sized opening in the woodland a few kilometers ahead. Gathering up their things and slinging both packs at his chest, he gently lifted his Padawan up into a fireman's carry over his shoulder and set off towards the newly-designated landing zone.

Locating a clear spot with the Force was simple enough - getting to it through some of the thickest woods he'd ever seen was another. His progress was slow as underbrush and ivy clutched at his feet and burdened shoulders, blocking his view and making the going hazardous.

He heard a faint sound that could only be the engines of the shuttle, slowly growing louder. Wanting to get Obi-Wan into the med-bay as soon as possible, he quickened his pace and threw a quick glance at the sky in a vain attempt to locate the craft. But with the burden over his shoulder, his eyes on the heavens, and his feet moving faster than they should, Qui-Gon Jinn had less chance than a crabpuff at a Senate reception to avoid the arched root all but buried in the duff.

As his feet tangled and his balance fled, his one thought was to get Obi-Wan down without further injury, and he threw all of his considerable power in the Force behind that effort, levitating his falling Padawan gently to earth. So it should have been no surprise to him at all as a sudden pain spiked through his ankle and the sound of cracking bone matter met his ears. Tired, worried, hungry, and in excruciating pain, Qui-Gon did what any normal human being in the same circumstances would do.

He screamed like a dying bantha.

The tiniest part of his mind was pleased to notice that Obi-Wan had landed in some soft moss and hadn't so much as twitched. And yet, another part of him wished Obi-Wan had woken up. He panted, trying to distance himself from the pain by getting angry at the blissfully snoozing padawan. Not very Jedi of him, but frankly neither was the young man having a stupid allergic reaction to mud, of all things.

He glared at Obi-Wan again, just to get it out of his system before turning his attention to the mess he'd made of his leg. For once there was abundant material at hand to immobilize the torn muscles and bones, but walking - especially walking on it with any weight - was going to be a chancy proposition. He looked up at the sky and searched for the clearing again, checking to see how much further he had to go.

He was still hearing the engines - they were getting fairly close now. Even as he realized that he heard the engine noise change tone as the shuttle started it's landing cycle. Glancing around, he spotted a slightly lighter patch of forest ahead, and it sounded very much as if the evacuation shuttle was landing in that direction. Pulling out his commlink, he contacted the pilot and detailed the situation.

With a promise from the pilot to bring two hover-stretchers, hefty help, and pain-killers, Qui-Gon let out a huge sigh and laid out flat in the soft vegetation. Just this once, he was going to lie back and let someone rescue him.

Now if only Obi-Wan wasn't snoring so loud as to scare off the birds...

For the first time in days, Qui-Gon Jinn was in a controled environment - a cramped one to be sure, but he was clean, well-fed, cool, and relatively pain-free - and bored out of his mind. His immobilized ankle rested on a cushion in front of him, and had finally stopped throbbing in time with his heartbeat, removing a distraction that he had relied on almost as much as his latest piece of lace-work.

Qui-Gon had been taught lace-making as an initiate - an "Arts and Crafts" project that was as much a test of dexterity and control as it was an encouragement of artistic talent. Unlike most of the other children, he found that he enjoyed making lace and had a real genius for designing patterns that were unique and beautiful. He quickly graduated from cotton thread to sept-silk and found that the clothing designers of Coruscant would pay dearly for handmade lace, no matter who made it.

Sitting in the bunk across from his entranced apprentice, his fingers flew in deft, controlled patterns even as his mind flew in all directions, his thoughts disordered and unruly. Obi-Wan was recovering quickly, but he did not expect his Padawan to be out of trance before they arrived at Coruscant in a few hours.

His Padawan had obviously been suffering from a temporary psychosis induced by hypoxia and the histamine reaction.

Hadn't he?

Jedi Padawans simply did not sit up and grin at their Master and announce that their Master was in love with them.

Much less that they were in love with said Master.

They usually didn't call their Master a liar, either.

Of course, he had been lying to Obi-Wan, at least about his health at the time.

But he really wasn't in love with Obi-Wan. He did love the young man, of course, in a generic, kind of simple like-trust-care relationship sort of way.

But what if Obi-Wan really was in love with him?

He couldn't be - oxygen deprivation had made his Padawan crazy, hallucinating.

Or had the hypoxia simply stripped inhibition to reveal truth?

He didn't think he was in love with Obi-Wan.

Or was he a liar in truth - lying to himself?

Qui-Gon chased his emotional tail while making beauty in silk until the pilot announced they were about to land at the Temple hangar.

A soft groan from the bed opposite heralded Obi-Wan's return to consciousness. "Anyone get the number of the shuttle that danced on my chest? Stars...." Almost translucent eyelids opened, giving Qui-Gon a sliver of refreshingly normal looking eyes before closing again. "Hello, Master."

"How are you feeling, Padawan? You look better."

::Though you looked even better fresh out of that creek::

Obi-Wan's eyes flew open in shock.

::Oops, perhaps that thought had leaked across the bond.::

"Um, I'll be fine soon I imagine." The young man's voice betrayed his confusion. "Where are we?"

"Home, of course. We're heading straight for the Healers, you so they can try to figure out what made you swell up like a dead Calamarian, and me so they can check on my ankle."

"Ankle?" Obi-Wan struggled upright, clearly distressed. "What happened to your ankle?"

"Broke it trying to do too many things at once. My Master will get weeks of amusement out of this. 'Never his mind on where he was! What he was doing!'" Obi-Wan grinned at his Master's deft imitation of Master Yoda.

"But other than that you are well?"

"Yes, Padawan, I'm fine - nothing a few weeks of rest won't cure." Qui-Gon put down his handwork and slid to the edge of his bunk, carefully lowering his foot to the floor. Ah - there was the throbbing, back again like a bad credit. Reaching across the tiny space between the bunks, he helped his apprentice to a sitting position. "I imagine you're a bit hungry after three days in trance - what say we clear out of here and tell the Healing Hall staff they can't touch us until they feed us?"

"How about we just not let them touch us at all?"

"You don't want anyone to ever touch you again, Padawan?" Qui-Gon chuckled, thinking of the heartfelt protests and declarations his delirious apprentice had spouted.

::So much for length and depth ...::

Obi-Wan eyes went wide again, and he stumbled, almost falling out of bed. "Master?"

Qui-Gon turned away from his Padawan, unable to hide his wide grin. He was going to have to work on that shielding ...

**end

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