Summary: Obi-Wan makes a realization he's been trying to avoid.
Feedback: All comments are welcomed. destinaf@hotmail.com
Dedication: for kaly. <hugs>
Notes: I was trying to write something else, but this is what
came out. Go figure. A fic from me with hardly any angst at
all...and no cliffhanger...what in the heck came over me??
<g>
Obi-Wan adjusted the surveyor's equipment for the hundredth
time and clicked a picture of the precise area he was mapping.
He bent his head over the small datapad, entering numbers and
frowning as he completed a brief calculation. Long expanses of
lush green hills and plains stretched out in the valley below
him, broken only by the dark expanse of river cutting across
the land.
A sharp twinge of pain lanced through Obi-Wan's shoulders,
reminding him he had been working for many hours without
stopping. Slowly, he raised his head, rolling his shoulders and
wincing at the sensation of muscles tightening and cramping. He
brought one hand to his neck and dug in his fingers to ease the
tired, tense ache beneath his hand.
Shadows lengthened over the valley as he watched, and the
rising winds forced him back against the shelter of the rough
outcropping he'd chosen for his work site. It was a perfect
location, central to the area he was measuring, high enough to
present a challenging climb, but not too difficult to reach.
With a sigh, he leaned against the rock and began to muse about
their mission.
The small, unnamed planetoid was designated J5536, and was
occupied by two groups of colonists from the vastly different
homeworlds of Emar and Tatooine. The colonists from Tatooine
were all former slaves, who took possession of parts of the
single continent only a few years prior to the arrival of the
Emarians. They settled in, believing their rights to be
unquestioned, and began building a colony.
Emar's contingent was made up of scientists, scholars and
artists, who had come to study the vanished civilization from
which the Emarian empaths were descended. The site had been
chosen because of its archaeological treasures. They believed
much of the planetoid was sacred because of its historical
significance. Emarian colonists wanted to protect the
planetoid, and hoped to spend several generations researching
their past.
For a time, both groups had coexisted in peace, but a nasty
dispute over water rights had led to dissension over the rights
to the planetoid's natural resources. When the two groups could
now agree on the use of the planetoid -- the need to study the
planet's history as opposed to mining it for profit -- the
Emarians called for the intervention of the Senate.
Two Jedi were dispatched to the planetoid, to live with the
Emarians while they determined which sites were too significant
to be plundered or colonized. It was a difficult task,
involving hours of study regarding Emarian culture and the
scant known history of J5536. There were maps to be drawn,
talks to be conducted, negotiations and compromises.
Eventually, the world would be divided between the two
groups...but deciding which sites were important to each was
the central challenge.
Obi-Wan's reverie was broken by another cold gust of wind. As
the sun dipped lower on the horizon, wisps of storm clouds
gathered, tinting the bright green hills dark and creating the
illusion of texture. The elements on J5536 were quite
unpredictable, but he found the small planet no less beautiful
because of the strange weather.
Secretly, he was pleased to have been sent along with Qui-Gon
on this assignment to make a survey of the planet's resources.
He'd spent time there with his master shortly after he became
Qui-Gon's padawan, learning to adapt to the elements and accept
any conditions he might encounter during a mission. It was
supposed to be an unpleasant learning experience, part of his
training, but Obi-Wan found he was fascinated by the odd
patterns of light and dark, of mist and sunlight. The wild,
almost raw feeling of being close to things beyond his control
raised a longing in his 13-year-old self, but he had never
understood that sensation or had time to examine it too
closely.
Even nine long years later, something about the weather on
J5536 reminded him of his master, in an odd and entirely
uncomfortable way. He dismissed the thought without dwelling on
it; it was distracting, and he knew if he turned that feeling
over to examine what lay beneath, he would never be able to
pretend he had not looked.
Wind whipped at his cloak, and a chilly fog began to rise
around his position. Time to return. He quickly packed the
collapsible tripod, imagers and other small items. After a
moment's hesitation, he removed his robe as well, stuffing it
into the small backpack. The wind was rising quickly, and the
long robe would only hinder his descent.
"Obi-Wan," said a tinny, faint voice, muffled by layers of
clothing.
The young Jedi fished around inside the hidden pockets of his
belt and produced his comlink. "Here, Master," he answered,
shivering as a forceful gust of wind pushed against him,
chilling him all the way through as though he wore no clothes
at all.
"Time to wrap it up for the day, Padawan. There's a storm
coming, a bad one." Qui-Gon's voice had an edge to it, a sharp
urgency.
"I've already packed up the equipment," Obi-Wan answered. "I'm
on my way." He switched off the comlink and stopped to look at
the pack resting on the ground at his feet. For a moment, he
considered the option of securing the equipment against the
rock and returning for it once the storm had passed. The pack
itself was actually not very heavy, which would make it less
likely to withstand the gusting winds. He knew he was more than
capable of making his way back with the small additional weight
of a few pounds on his back. They had just two sets of
equipment, and the survey was far from complete.
He looked at the sky, then at the small bundle. There was
really only one logical decision.
Without further delay, he hoisted the pack onto his back and
fastened its straps around his waist. He moved to the edge of
the outcropping and took hold of a small jutting piece of
stone, using it as a handhold as he slung himself out onto the
face of the cliff. Carefully, he dug his toes into the small
crevasses and reached down gracefully, levering himself onto
the next lowest safe hand and toeholds.
Cold rain began to pelt Obi-Wan's face, stinging his skin, and
within minutes he was soaked through. As his handholds became
slippery, he closed his eyes and extended the Force around him
like a warm cocoon, a third eye to help him find his way down.
His movements became slow and cautious, and he shut his mind to
the bone-deep cold seeping through him, burrowing deep into his
joints.
He dared not look down, but he could sense the ground was
close, perhaps twenty feet away. Relief washed over him. His
muscles were screaming their protest, and cramps were coiling
in his calves and biceps, ready to unleash their misery on his
body. Obi-Wan accepted the pain but could not surrender to it,
so he focused on what awaited him below. Hot food, dry clothes.
A warm bath...
His stomach turned and the sky was behind him, and he realized
with sudden clarity - I am falling. His body seemed
numb, and he had time only to be grateful he was so close to
the ground before he crashed into it.
Mud.
Obi-Wan's eyes flew open and he retched. He turned his face
away from the mud puddle under his cheek and spat out a
foul-tasting quantity of dirt. Slowly, he dragged his arm up
under his face and rested his bruised cheek there as he took an
inventory. Arms and legs, all working. Head, still attached to
his neck, apparently functioning -- mostly. Still
breathing...but that part hurt.
With a monumental effort, he shoved himself to his knees. Not
badly hurt...and he'd landed on his face, so the equipment
would be in perfect condition.
He tried to estimate the amount of time he'd been unconscious.
Not too long, or Qui-Gon would have come after him already. His
fingers automatically went to the comlink at his belt and
removed it - or what was left of it. The small display was
shattered, and the signal indicator was smashed as well.
One leg at a time, and he was upright, wavering slightly. He
took a few deep breaths, surprised at the thin needles of pain
accompanying each intake of air, and started moving in the
direction of the village.
The weather cleared above him in increments as he walked, and
bright stars appeared above in the cracks and holes of
invisible clouds. Under any other circumstances, he would have
been content to let his head fall back so he could see the
stars twinkling down at him, blazing their soft, slow trails
across the heavens. Fatigue made his legs seem heavy, and he
slowed as he neared the small house he shared with Qui-Gon.
Jaw jutting out with determination, he forced his feet to move,
knowing that his pain was radiating out from him in ways he
couldn't control. As he reached the door, he also knew Qui-Gon
was moving on the other side, and he found their training bond
strangely jumbled, full of turmoil not his own. The door opened
and Qui-Gon was there, blue eyes sweeping over his padawan for
a moment before his hands closed on the slight shoulders and
tugged the younger man inside.
Obi-Wan sank down gratefully on a chair, assisted by his
master, and tried not to wince as Qui-Gon unbuckled the pack
and removed it, dropping it to the side. His cold, wet clothing
began to steam in the warmth of the room as his master deftly
unfastened his sash and belt. Obi-Wan attempted to raise his
arms to remove his tunic, but heard his own breath hissing
between his teeth, and looked up, alarmed, almost guilty at
betraying his own injury.
Qui-Gon's eyes were fastened to his face, and the storm which
felled Obi-Wan was nothing compared to the storm in those eyes.
His master dropped to one knee before him and took hold of the
neck of the tunic. With one quick pull, he tore the tunic down
the middle to allow his hands access to Obi-Wan's bruised,
damaged ribs. "What happened?" he asked gruffly, sliding his
hands gently across his padawan's torso.
"I fell," Obi-Wan answered, and at the question in Qui-Gon's
eyes, he added, "About twenty or thirty feet."
"Did you lose consciousness?" Qui-Gon asked, reaching up to
slip the tunic from Obi-Wan's shoulders, then returning to his
examination. One hand closed around each of Obi-Wan's arms and
were drawn down cautiously as Qui-Gon searched for broken
bones. The touch was oddly sensual. Slow, thorough fingers
explored his body, and Obi-Wan closed his eyes as confusion
crept up on him suddenly.
A hand cupped his chin. "Obi-Wan, look at me."
The command was clear, and Obi-Wan obeyed immediately. His gaze
met his master's, and Qui-Gon brushed his thumbs across
Obi-Wan's throbbing cheekbones. "You mustn't go to sleep until
I'm certain it's safe," Qui-Gon said. "Now answer me. Did you
lose consciousness?"
"For a little while," Obi-Wan admitted, spellbound by his
master's eyes. "I don't know how long. It was still daylight
when I woke."
Qui-Gon nodded and proceeded to strip away Obi-Wan's trousers
and boots. Obi-Wan considered protesting, but he seemed to lack
the will to do so. "Don't close your eyes," his master warned,
before disappearing into the other room for a moment.
Obi-Wan turned his face toward the fire, lulled by its pleasant
heat, and watched the shadows dancing with the flames. He
turned his focus inward, centering himself around the pain in
his sides, and used the Force to ease the ache and begin the
healing. It seemed to require a great deal of concentration,
and he was very sleepy...
Only a fraction of a second later, Qui-Gon's voice drew him
back. "Padawan," he said, voice very rough and almost angry.
"Don't use the Force. You don't have the strength right now.
Let me help." Qui-Gon placed a set of clean clothes on the
table and draped a fuzzy quilt around Obi-Wan's shoulders.
"It's been a long time," Obi-Wan said in an unsteady voice. His
master considered him a man now, and he had not required
Qui-Gon's help to heal himself in several years. Even as he
spoke, Qui-Gon was kneeling before him again, curling his large
hands around Obi-Wan's sides and closing his eyes.
Warmth suffused Obi-Wan's body, tendrils of it sneaking into
his sore muscles, soothing them. He could feel his master's
power, and not for the first time, marveled at Qui-Gon's
ability. There was something else within the Force, too,
something enormous and important, but it was subtle, hidden
from Obi-Wan's view. He reached out for it, but was pressed
back, his gentle probe refused.
"Master?" he asked, watching Qui-Gon, tracing the tense lines
of his master's body with curious eyes.
Qui-Gon's head snapped up, and Obi-Wan drew a breath of
surprise at the open emotion in the blue depths. He blinked,
unsure of what he was seeing...and it was gone, as fast as it
appeared. Qui-Gon pulled his hands back quickly, as though he'd
been burned, and they stared at one another. A connection
seemed to blossom suddenly, made of tentative touches, elusive
fragments of memory, and hidden dreams.
Slowly, Qui-Gon stood, and reached for Obi-Wan's dry clothing.
Without a word, Obi-Wan let the quilt slip from his bare
shoulders, and finished drawing on his shirt as Qui-Gon dropped
the tunic over his head. Qui-Gon pulled fresh trousers over
Obi-Wan's feet and the younger man reached to the waistband to
pull them up. Qui-Gon's hands slipped under his hips and lifted
him as he tugged the trousers into place, and their eyes met
again as the younger man's hips tipped forward.
Obi-Wan's eyes followed Qui-Gon as his master turned and stoked
the fire. Silence filled the room, creeping through the cold
corners, into the empty spaces. Obi-Wan tentatively stretched
his arms above his head, found he could move without much pain,
and smiled.
"Thank you, Master," he said quietly. "My ribs feel much
better."
"You might have been killed," Qui-Gon answered, just as
quietly. "It would have been wiser to leave the pack and return
for it in the morning."
"The survey equipment might have been lost, and I didn't want
to take the chance. It would have meant this mission would be
even longer, and I..." Obi-Wan's voice trailed off as he
realized how his words would be received.
"The mission, in this case, would not have been jeopardized by
a few weeks' delay," Qui-Gon chided, turning to face Obi-Wan.
He pulled a chair from the table and sat down, straddling the
seat, resting his arms on the high back. "It is important to be
able to judge when your safety may be placed before the
mission, and when it may not. This was one occasion where the
cost of those items might have been your life, Obi-Wan, and
your life is not yours to give for something so trivial. Your
life belongs to..."
It belongs to you, thought Obi-Wan, and the errant
phrase turned his body into a sparking mass of confused
impulses.
"...to the Jedi, and to your oath of service," Qui-Gon
finished. "And I won't have you risk yourself like that again.
Is that clear?"
"Yes, Master." The words seemed to catch against his tongue,
heavy and reluctant. There were other things he wanted to say,
other questions nagging to be asked, but he found himself
restrained by uncertainty. And then the moment passed, and it
was too late.
"Get to bed, Obi-Wan. You've healed sufficiently; I don't think
there's anything your body can't right on its own now. You took
a good knock to that hard head of yours. I'm sure it's aching,
but you'll be better in the morning." Qui-Gon sounded relieved,
and a little amused. "Don't fight it any longer. Sleep would be
the best thing for you."
"I can't keep my eyes open," Obi-Wan murmured drowsily as he
got to his feet.
Qui-Gon rose and came to his side. He followed Obi-Wan into the
bedroom, and watched as Obi-Wan got into bed, yanking the
blankets up around his chin. Obi-Wan's last clear thought was
to wonder if Qui-Gon would remain there all night.
He already knew the answer, and it followed him down into
sleep.
Sunlight tickled Obi-Wan's face as he woke by degrees. He
delayed opening his eyes as long as possible. The thought of
climbing and standing all day made him remember his aching
sides, and he burrowed deeper beneath the covers, groaning into
the pillow.
"Are you all right, young Jedi?" The voice was decidedly not
Qui-Gon's, and Obi-Wan peeked out from between the pillow and
blanket. The Emarian liaison, Jerat Erru, was sitting beside
his bed, looking concerned.
"Good morning," Obi-Wan said, offering a wan smile. "I'm fine.
I'm just...stiff."
"After the fall your master described to me this morning, I
don't doubt it for a moment," Erru agreed. "That's a bad place
to fall. Nothing soft to catch you! No wonder your master
decided to let you sleep."
"Where is Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan asked, sitting up gingerly.
"He's gone off to finish the survey you started yesterday. He
left you in my care." Erru tilted his head and looked at
Obi-Wan with a disconcerting smile. "I have some artifacts to
show you which I think you might find particularly interesting,
young man. Yes...they should prove interesting indeed."
The thoughtful tone provoked a frown from Obi-Wan as he
remembered suddenly that the Emari were empaths, sensitive to
the feelings of others. He slammed down his mental barriers,
unsure of what he'd been broadcasting to make the liaison smile
so broadly.
"I'll leave you to start your day," Erru said, rising from his
chair. "You know where the archaeological center is, here in
the village?" At Obi-Wan's affirmative nod, the liaison added,
"Meet me there. Your master has instructed you are to be kept
busy and watched closely today, and I know just the thing."
With another enigmatic smile, Erru was gone.
Obi-Wan crept out of bed, ignoring his protesting body, which
seemed frozen into one uncomfortable position. Something told
him he was not at all prepared for whatever the liaison had in
mind.
He went straight for the 'fresher, scattering clothes along the
way, and exhaled a sigh of pleasure as the hot water beat
against his body. He stood still, enjoying the caress of the
steam and heat, and thinking about Qui-Gon.
It was unusual for his master to leave him alone after any
mishap that required healing, or a lecture, or both. And
Qui-Gon had said himself that the mission was not terribly
critical or urgent. Why had he run off at dawn to complete
Obi-Wan's unfinished survey? Obi-Wan knew there must be a
reason, and he suspected he could guess what it was, but he let
the thought glide across his mind without looking closely at
it. It washed away with the water, and he let it go, along with
the other feelings and thoughts skittering around his heart and
mind.
Eyes closed, he began to meditate, achieving a blank
nothingness, embracing it.
Right on time, Obi-Wan entered the small, dark building where
he was to meet Jerat Erru. The air was cool, the lighting dim,
and Obi-Wan felt immediately as though he were in a comfortable
place, somewhere he was welcome. He smiled as Erru emerged from
a back room.
"You seem none the worse for the wear, young Jedi! Come, this
way." Erru gestured toward the door behind him and led the way.
Obi-Wan followed, past cases full of objects he didn't
recognize. Some of them were tiny statues. Others were
utensils, faded and broken by time. He lingered near a small
piece of tile, a colorful representation of two women smiling
at one another. "These are lovely," he remarked, going from
case to case, lost in the past.
"I see you have an appreciation for history, Obi-Wan." Erru
joined him beside one of the cases. "My people greatly long to
understand their heritage. What you see here is our fondest
dream."
"I can understand why," Obi-Wan said, somewhat awed by the
scope of what he saw.
Erru's hand closed on his arm with a friendly pat. "There will
be time for all this later. But first, the reason you're
here..." He steered Obi-Wan through another doorway, into an
even darker room.
Obi-Wan's eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he looked at the
single object displayed there under an unfocused light. "What
is it?" he asked curiously, approaching the stand with Erru.
"This, young Jedi, is very rare. These objects were used by my
people to preserve knowledge, long before there were text
scrolls and datalogs. It is called a book."
"I've heard of them, but I've never seen one," Obi-Wan said in
a hushed tone. He extended his hand, caught himself just in
time, and withdrew it.
"We haven't deciphered the language yet, but the book itself
has...some interesting properties. Properties someone like you
could appreciate far more than I can." Erru looked longingly at
the yellowed object, with its withered pages.
"Someone like me?" Obi-Wan echoed.
"Someone who understands the way of the Force, who is trained
to use its many properties." Erru smiled that knowing smile
again. "You'll see. Go ahead, touch it."
Obi-Wan reached out again and hesitantly touched the page. He
ran his hand across the bold print, feeling the raised letters
beneath his fingertips. A sense of time moving sideways caught
him off guard, and he snatched his hand back. "What..." he
breathed.
"Let it speak to you," Erru urged. He caught Obi-Wan's hand and
placed it back on the book. "Hear your own heart, Obi-Wan.
Listen to its message."
Obi-Wan quickly centered himself and reached out through the
living Force. The response was strong enough to cause a
crashing in his head, just before reality turned upside down.
The room faded away into the background of his consciousness,
very far away. There was no sound save for the beating of his
heart and his soft, even breathing. Pictures began to form in
his mind, vague and blurred, unfinished. He concentrated,
trying to bring them into focus. The edges of the visions were
bright, like clear jewels scattered on white velvet, and
Obi-Wan looked past them into the fragile center of the
illusion.
He saw shapes moving, and knew with certainty these were lovers
as their passion exploded intimately into his mind, twisting
him with desire. He felt he should understand, should recognize
them, but once again he pushed his intuition away, and the
images grew indistinct and faded.
They were replaced by other fragmented colors, which coalesced
into the image of a hand against skin, touching, drawing lines
with a broad finger. It seemed familiar, yet not familiar, as
the finger brushed against open lips...and was replaced by a
mouth, pushing gently, accepting no refusal, fusing the two
together as one.
Obi-Wan felt the pressure of a persistent tug at the back of
his mind, a need he refused to admit, a wish he could fulfill,
if he were willing to let it live within him. He skirted the
edges of it, considering the wisdom of giving his deepest fear
the power to exist alongside his strongest wish, and knew he
could not do so. But there would be a time...
One more image leapt into his consciousness then, clear and no
longer distorted. Time righted itself, and though the moment
and place were not clear to him, he understood the message he
was given, in a language needing no interpretation.
Reality slammed back into place. Disoriented, Obi-Wan was
grounded by the firm pressure of Erru's hand on his wrist. "Do
you see, young Jedi?" the empath asked hopefully.
Obi-Wan could only nod, and hope the other man could sense his
gratitude.
For the rest of the day, there was nothing to be done but wait.
Obi-Wan tried to pass the time by reading about the various
artifacts, but nothing held his attention. He wandered back to
their small dwelling and occupied himself there for a while,
tidying things, keeping himself busy.
When his body refused to cooperate with the pointless tasks any
longer, he sat in a chair by the fire and meditated, opening
himself to all the thoughts and feelings he had blunted for so
long, examining the reasons for his own reluctance, seeking
understanding. One at a time, he unlocked the doors, and the
light began to reveal many secrets inside his heart.
Darkness came quickly, catching him unaware, and he turned his
face to the door as Qui-Gon came through with a rainstorm on
his heels. Lightning lit the windows as his master smiled to
see him there.
"You look none the worse for the wear, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon
observed, setting the backpack on the table and removing his
robe. "I'm pleased to see you looking rested. Did Erru keep you
busy?"
"He did indeed, my Master. I learned a great deal this day."
Something in the way the words were spoken gave Qui-Gon pause,
and he gave Obi-Wan a searching look. "You didn't tax yourself,
I hope," he said.
"On the contrary, Master. I feel...enlightened." He met his
master's gaze with a level look, waiting.
Qui-Gon began to unpack the equipment without further comment.
Item after item was dusted off and stored. After a time, the
bag was almost empty, and Qui-Gon was ready to engage in a
dialogue, as Obi-Wan had known he would be. "Tell me the nature
of the lesson," his master instructed finally.
"I've been very foolish," Obi-Wan said softly.
"It could have been much worse," Qui-Gon said, misunderstanding
Obi-Wan's meaning. He polished the lens of the imager and set
it on a high shelf alongside its twin. "You weren't injured
badly, and that's the important thing."
"I don't mean that," Obi-Wan said. "I'm talking about loving
you."
Qui-Gon froze in mid-movement. He turned back to Obi-Wan, and
something flashed across his features. "What did you say?" he
asked slowly, his tone registering his disbelief.
"You were waiting for me, weren't you? And I refused to
understand." Obi-Wan folded his hands together in his lap,
marveling at how calm he was in contrast to the wild look in
Qui-Gon's eyes. "I was afraid I misunderstood, that you
wouldn't want me, and so I never really allowed myself to look
too closely at what there was between us."
Qui-Gon's stunned silence was eloquent.
"But it was always there, wasn't it? Or at least, it was there
if I'd had enough sense to see it." Obi-Wan stood and moved
across the short distance between them. "These last few years,
you've tried to control it, so I wouldn't see, and I helped you
by making myself blind." He laid his palm against Qui-Gon's
face. "I'm not going to help you anymore."
"I am your master," Qui-Gon said in a strained voice, the
muscle in his jaw tightening under Obi-Wan's hand.
The younger man could feel the breaking point approaching, like
a wave nearing the shore. "You are my master," Obi-Wan agreed
simply.
Qui-Gon struggled a moment more, and then his control broke,
driven by a desire held in check for far too long. Obi-Wan felt
himself enfolded in two arms so strong that his strength was
only a shadow by comparison, and a warm mouth covered his,
hungry and truthful. His lips parted under the demanding push
of his master's exploration, and a tongue danced inside him,
retreating and returning a moment later, marking his lips with
invisible trails of fire.
Obi-Wan sighed his pleasure into one soft breath as Qui-Gon's
lips tasted his need, mapping it, before releasing him.
Lightning flashed again, illuminating the side of his master's
face, and thunder rumbled nearby.
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