Down
by Ladonna King (lking@agora.rdrop.com)
Archive: M_A if you want it, and
http://www.slashcity.com/ciceqi/Down.htm
Category: Angst, Q/O preslash, in a way...
Rating: err...G with a warning for graphic scenery and implied
m/m subject.
Disclaimer: Aaaaall we are saaaaaaaying... / Is give Qui a
chaaaaaaaaance... (apologies to Lucas and the Beatles)
Warnings: Yer standard Ladonna Nastication warning.
Spoilers: TPM for certain...that scene...conjecture for
Eps II & III.
Summary: "I'm finding out what's left of you..."
Feedback: Would make me purr.
Notes: I can't sleep, I can't think, but I can type... Ryen
gave me this song, "Down," by Gravity Kills...it's not
quite songfic, but the lyrics are at the end, if you
wanna know what I was listening to when I got the idea for
this. It was going to be a snippet, until Leila insisted I
fix things, so thank her if I manage to scrounge up a
silver lining for this...
It was cold and it was dark, and it was the loneliest nightmare
he'd ever dreamed. If he'd been left strictly alone, it might
have been bearable, but the shadows of this dusk-lit cavern
teased him with glimpses of faces in the shadows, the fading
echoes of unfamiliar voices. Cries, mostly--screams and
wracking sobs of grief, of piercing wounds that had no chance
to heal. No chance, because they were dying, and dead, life
pried from their clawing grips with a grey and chilly
inevitability.
It wasn't what he'd been taught to expect. Wasn't
anything like they'd told him it would be. He'd never
had a need for heaven before, never managed to believe in hell,
but this was hell indeed. And of all the spirits that writhed
and fell into death around him, he alone of the neverending
multitude did not fade. He alone had been condemned to this
half-life, unable to return or drift away.
If he had been alone, and not known this, it might have been
bearable.
Folded in the lotus position, he stared bleakly out into the
gloom, watching the shadow-spirits flicker into brief, mournful
life. A young man stumbled to his knees, arms flying up to
cover his head, half of which had been shorn messily away. A
heartbeat later, he was gone, a woman taking his place, her
knees drawn up and spread wide as she braced her feet against
the strain that trembled through her insubstantial being.
Watching her pained grimace collapse into a rictus of horror,
he turned away before her arms had quite encircled her gravid
belly, closing his eyes against the hopelessness of it. So much
suffering, and there wasn't a thing he could do for them. He
couldn't even help himself.
A white-hot burst of agony ripped through him without warning,
and when his hands flew to his middle, they came away bloody,
slicked with the illusion of his life. The pain, as always, was
horribly real, as if he was reliving his own mortal wound, over
and over again. Another flaring convulsion shook his bones, as
if someone was pulling on his guts like a leash or tugging a
lit 'saber through cauterized flesh, and he bent over his
folded legs, clenching his teeth on a scream.
//Oh please...not again, please no,// wavered helplessly
through his scattered thoughts, but there was no one to appeal
to, no power left in his trembling hands. There was only the
pain in an endless, unpredictable cycle, eating away at the
fragile peace he'd made with his fate.
"Please," he breathed, the last remnants of his hope slipping
away from him as he reached out to empty air, pleading for the
shadows to swallow him up.
Like a silken rope set suddenly alight, something came
into being where his bloody hands touched, a thick cord that
leaked from his chest and stretched far beyond the limits of
his sight. His blood was the dye that crept swiftly along its
length, making the invisible substantial as it dripped from his
hands and the terrible wound in his body. His blood and his
pain, revealing a tie that was stronger than death. His hands
shook as he stared at what they had wrought, but his hesitation
lasted a bare heartbeat before he reached out more firmly and
took hold of the rope.
With a wrenching spin of vertigo, he found himself somewhere
else, on his knees in a room infinitely familiar. He knew the
spill of light from the single tall window, knew the shadows of
the bed along the far wall, knew the incongruous
presence of the thrashing body tangled in the sheets.
His room...this had been his room, though it looked slightly
different now--and the old wooden chest in the corner still
felt of him, as if a piece of himself had been left
behind and kept hidden away, cherished.
The ragged moan from the bed shivered along his spine with cold
fingers of broken glass, tearing him with an agony sharper than
any wound. Jerking against unseen restraints, the dreamer's
lean body tensed and shuddered, the sheen of tears on pale
cheeks glimmering in the wan glow from the window. "Obi-Wan,"
he whispered, struggling to his feet, but his voice was
cobweb-thin, falling into the stillness of night without an
echo.
"Padawan," he tried again, crossing slowly to the bed and
reaching out with hope burning his lungs. If he could have this
chance, this one chance to say all that he'd let go to his
death unspoken... "Please..."
As if from an unimaginable distance, he watched his hand
stretch out, a white shadow in the gloom as he leaned over the
dreaming form. His fingers trembled with a trepidation he
couldn't quite feel, though he knew he was shaking, his
weightless body thrumming at a fever-pitch. So close...if he
could just touch, he could make everything right between them,
all of it, all... Gently, as if his Padawan were spun crystal,
he cupped his palm around Obi-Wan's cheek, where it had rested
in that last brief moment...
...and Obi-Wan's dreams flooded him, a grim tide of panic and
grief and longing, choking him where he stood. Obi-Wan was
dreaming of him, of watching the fight, watching him
die, and it was the most bitter jest of all when he felt
the Sith's lightsaber skewer him once more. Staggering, he
slumped to the bed, strangely unwilling to snatch his hand away
and give up even this devastating contact. He understood...he
understood everything.
It was Obi-Wan...Obi-Wan's nightmares that kept him in such
torment, Obi-Wan's fears that orchestrated his pain, all
unknowing. The blood-soaked cord that had drawn him here had
once been brilliant white, a bond unacknowledged while he bided
his time, arrogantly certain he would have all the time in the
world to explore its depths when Obi-Wan was ready. Infinitely
stronger than the training bond, it had turned like a viper in
his hand, because this, this unfinished need, was what
had kept him here, chained to Obi-Wan's side. Where he had
always wanted to be, but not like this...Force, not like
this...
Agony beat him down until he was hunched over Obi-Wan's
sleeping body, holding his insides in as the dream took
a turn for the worse. He saw himself in Obi-Wan's arms once
more, making Obi-Wan promise, making him promise...his
eyes so far from his Padawan, mind focused on the boy, the
Chosen One, the loved one...
//No!// he tried to protest as his shocked eyes flew open, but
Obi-Wan's silent, miserable face was still leaking tears,
oblivious to his Master's horror. Obi-Wan was crying in his
mind, telling Qui-Gon he was loved, that he couldn't go,
couldn't leave, not this time--//Please, Master, I love you,
don't leave me//--but the dream-Qui-Gon only demanded that
damning promise, again and again and--
"No!" Obi-Wan screamed as he woke, jerking upright as he
grabbed for the figure of his dream, the false Master who had
slipped away again, as always. Qui-Gon felt his spirit waver as
Obi-Wan's body passed through him, wide, unseeing eyes
fixed on the darkness of Qui-Gon's room. It was more than he
could bear, but if he could just make Obi-Wan see...
"Master?" a soft, scared voice called from what had been
Obi-Wan's room, and Qui-Gon watched with a rising feeling of
panic and nausea as Obi-Wan's face went dead, every emotion cut
out of his heart and shunted aside the instant he heard
Anakin's voice. This was no Jedi calm, nothing like
serenity--this was a man gutting his feelings, crippling his
spirit to protect another.
"It's all right, Ani," Obi-Wan called back, his perfectly calm
voice betraying not a hint of the palsied shaking of Obi-Wan's
limbs, the tears drying silently on his face. "It was just a
dream. I'm sorry I woke you."
Something in Qui-Gon felt a rumor of uncertainty, and he
wondered suddenly why it had never occurred to him that neither
he nor Obi-Wan would ever be able to form a bond with an
outsider and not share it with the other. They should both have
been training this child...both of them, together in all
things. He'd made such a terrible, terrible mistake...
Obi-Wan felt the flicker of Anakin's hesitancy as well, must
have known Anakin was about to offer some form of childish
comfort, perhaps from experience. He must have this
dream...often. "I'm fine, Anakin," Obi-Wan said firmly, though
his voice was softer, as if he didn't quite dare to speak the
lie aloud. "Go back to sleep."
As if taking his own advice, Obi-Wan lay back against the
pillows, his arms folded across his chest--but his eyes stayed
open, staring up at the ceiling as he firmed his shields to
adamantine walls, unbreachably thick. Laying a hand on
Obi-Wan's arm, even Qui-Gon found it hard to sense him, and he
was fading now that Obi-Wan was awake, slowly but surely... His
Padawan looked terrible, too thin by far and with a
frighteningly brittle exhaustion creeping at the edges of
haunted eyes. The dreams and the grief were wearing Obi-Wan
down, but it was the doubts swarming beneath that
once-confident surface that truly gave Qui-Gon pause, doubts he
had thought long erased.
"Obi-Wan," he said intently, "I'm right here...open your eyes,
Padawan...see me..." Dismayed, he watched the tears
start again, though Obi-Wan's expression never changed, and
that frightened him more than anything. "Obi-Wan...Obi-Wan,
please, listen to me--Obi-Wan!"
He was being ripped away, and with those staggeringly thorough
shields up, he had nothing to hold on to, not even grief...
One flash broke through his raging attempt at communication
before he went, but it was from Anakin, not Obi-Wan. The boy
was curled into a tight ball, staring blindly at the door as if
praying that someone would come as he remembered his own
dreams, night after night of them--of being in Qui-Gon's place
as a cloaked Sith struck him down, his pale Jedi uniform
slicked with his own blood...
And of a snarling young Jedi attacking a black-robed Sith, and
the Sith was Anakin himself. Over and over again, the boy
dreamed of death, of being killed by the enemy, of being the
enemy and killed, and his teacher's protective shields were too
strong and too thick to sense the boy's stark terror. Qui-Gon
knew it was kindly meant, but this was wrong, so very wrong...
And he was helpless in the face of it.
The man meditating beneath the window was a shadow of the boy
Qui-Gon had known. He'd watched haunted blue eyes turn hunted,
defiance turning slowly to defensiveness, though little of it
showed on the surface. Perhaps it was merely that no one wanted
to see. Just like no one could see the gaping wounds of the
spirit Obi-Wan bore even now, wounds that were reflected in
Qui-Gon's body. He could bear the physical pain easily
enough--could have taken far worse for Obi-Wan's sake--but
watching this slow disintegration of the man he loved was
tearing him apart. If only Obi-Wan could hear him, know he was
there and listen to what he had to say...
//There is no emotion; there is peace,// floated through
Obi-Wan's strained calm, and Qui-Gon wept to hear that tone of
bitter irony in his apprentice's mental voice. Leaning forward,
his knees touching Obi-Wan's as he mirrored the other's
meditative posture, he tried again to make contact with his
Padawan, unable to give up on the fruitless exercise even now.
"Obi-Wan..." he murmured, cupping Obi-Wan's face in both hands.
"Please. I know some part of you doesn't want to hear
me...but please. I'm right here, beloved...and there are so
many things I want you to hear, so many things I should have
told you before. Please, Padawan...let me in this
time...please..."
//There is no ignorance; there is knowledge,// Obi-Wan sighed,
unable to feel the ghostly thumb that stroked his lips, the
fingers that traced the frowning arch of his brows. Not even a
tremor of awareness met Qui-Gon's questing probe, only a
granite sorrow no amount of time had been able to erase.
//There is no passion--//
"There is love," suggested a voice at the doorway, followed by
a shy, "Master."
For one brief instant, when Obi-Wan opened his eyes, Qui-Gon
could almost pretend the other man had met Qui-Gon's stare at
last. Then the frown deepened, and Qui-Gon had to release the
fantasy, knowing that Obi-Wan merely looked right through him
to Anakin beyond. "Rewriting the Code, Padawan?" Obi-Wan smiled
gently, and it was still strange to hear that word from
Obi-Wan's lips, even though he had been the cause of it.
"Maybe it's time someone did," Anakin shrugged, stepping into
the room when Obi-Wan didn't immediately send him away. Anakin
had grown into a beautiful young man, his blond hair still the
color of new-minted gold, and his braid already trailed halfway
down his chest. In so many ways, Anakin should have
reminded Qui-Gon of Obi-Wan at sixteen, but there was as little
resemblance as humanly possible in the two. At sixteen, Obi-Wan
had begun to blossom in earnest, losing his doubts and
fears--of rejection, of unworthiness--under Qui-Gon's patient
care. He had been spreading his wings, his company a delight to
all, and no one had begrudged him his successes, no matter how
much they disapproved of his Master.
Anakin was diffident where Obi-Wan had been bold, and though
his brilliance was unquestioned, Anakin hung back from notice,
retiring to a fault. Outwardly, it looked like simple modesty,
but Qui-Gon could read the truth of it without trying. It was
fear, built on the same doubts Obi-Wan had been plagued with,
only these hadn't gone away when Anakin had found a Master.
Anakin's Master, though Obi-Wan had tried with all the heart he
had left in him, was half the problem.
Still smiling, Obi-Wan unfolded himself and stood, absently
brushing the creases out of his loose pants. "Well," Obi-Wan
allowed, "perhaps love does belong in the Code. I don't say it
belongs there, mind you..."
"Why not?" Anakin challenged with a faint grin, ducking his
head. "Even if you don't feel passion for someone, you can
still feel love, can't you, Master?"
"What you can do isn't the point," Obi-Wan shook his
head. "It's what you should do. Passion blinds
you...just as love can, Ani. Only through serenity can you be
truly free of the Dark."
"But love can be a light against the Dark, Master," Anakin
swallowed, looking very much as if he was taking his courage in
both hands by saying what should have been plain to them both.
"And serenity...seems highly overrated."
Obi-Wan laughed out loud, and though it was a wan sound
compared to the bright rattle of mirth that had been music to
Qui-Gon's ears, it was at least heartfelt. "You talk like a man
in love, Padawan," Obi-Wan grinned at his student, and time
seemed to stop dead as Qui-Gon realized what was coming. Rising
to his feet as if he could avert the disaster ahead, all he
could do was watch as Anakin nodded once, far too seriously,
his eyes fixed on Obi-Wan.
"I am."
Qui-Gon had to give Obi-Wan credit--Obi-Wan made no attempt to
misunderstand Anakin's words. His lashes fluttering as if he'd
been slapped, Obi-Wan swallowed once, his calm expression
slipping only slightly. "I thought you and Amidala had...an
understanding," he said slowly, acute misery in his eyes.
"She's not you," Anakin replied simply, his heart in his quiet
words.
"Anakin..."
"Master," Anakin broke in swiftly, "give me a chance. That's
all. I only want to make you happy..."
"You have, Ani," Obi-Wan told him honestly, the words coming
easily to his tongue. Any other time, Anakin might have flushed
with pleasure, but a deaf man could hear the refusal they led
up to, and Anakin's face was turning slowly paler, the hurt in
his eyes all-consuming. "The only moments of happiness I've
known in the last seven years have come from teaching you. But
you're my Padawan, Ani--"
"No," Anakin said forcefully, and Obi-Wan looked briefly
taken aback. Qui-Gon could read the sudden despair in Obi-Wan's
heart, wondering if Anakin would repudiate him as a Master,
then wondering if it mightn't be best for Anakin's sake. Wrong,
wrong, Qui-Gon wanted to cry, but he was a mute,
unnoticed audience, powerless and shamed that he had failed
Obi-Wan so completely. "Tell me you don't love me," Anakin
growled fiercely, "tell me you don't want me. But don't
throw that excuse in my face."
"It's not an excuse," Obi-Wan frowned, rallying wearily.
"The hell it isn't!" Anakin cried, his white face
strained. "Seven years, Master--and you've never once done
anything Master Jinn didn't do before you, because you're too
afraid of challenging his memory to risk it!"
"That's enough, Anakin," Obi-Wan snapped, his voice gone
dangerously flat, though his eyes radiated a hell of agony. The
worst of it was, Qui-Gon thought Anakin just might be right.
"No, that's just it--it's not enough. You're not
him, Master! You're not him, and I'm not you. I can't
be you. I can't stand here and--and feel this way about
you, and see you hurting like this, and not do
something." The raw pleading in the young man's voice would
have cracked a lesser control. Unselfishly, Qui-Gon mourned the
strength of Obi-Wan's armor as his beloved shook his head,
defeat in the slump of broad shoulders.
"There's nothing you can do, Ani," Obi-Wan said quietly.
"When the most important thing in your life dies in your
arms...it tends to make an impression."
Anakin flinched, his expression shuttering instantly. "The most
important thing," he repeated slowly, pain bleeding through the
coldness in his voice.
Obi-Wan's face collapsed into woe as he realized just what he
had said, but there was no taking it back, not without lying.
"Anakin--"
"Stay in your shrine, Master," Anakin sneered, eyes narrowed
against tears. "I'll leave you to your ghosts."
Shocked into silence, Obi-Wan stared after his Padawan as
Anakin stalked out, numbly watching the young man walk away
from him. It took forever before he moved again, and it was
only to the bed, where he collapsed like an old, old man at its
edge, still staring after Anakin. "Oh Force..." Obi-Wan
breathed, voice thick with grief and regret. Closing his eyes,
he whispered, "If I had ghosts, Ani, it wouldn't hurt so
fucking much."
Dropping his head into his hands, Obi-Wan pressed the heels of
his palms into his eyes, willing himself to calm once more.
Sinking to the floor, he folded his legs in the lotus position,
but it was a long time before he could straighten and begin his
meditations again, and his face was wet with tears.
//There is no emotion; there is peace,// Obi-Wan insisted
desperately, his breathing refusing to calm, heart twisting
inside him. //There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There
is no passion...there is serenity. There is no death...//
He couldn't go on. Bowed over his legs, Obi-Wan covered his
head with his arms, a ragged keen trapped in his throat.
//You're wrong, Ani,// Qui-Gon heard him groan, //you are me.
And I am...him. I don't love you...and he would never
have wanted me, either. He never did.//
Dropping to his knees, Qui-Gon reached out for Obi-Wan one more
time, his horror boundless. //Oh, my poor love...// he grieved
silently, wishing the arms he gathered Obi-Wan into were real,
more than he ever had before. This was what kept Obi-Wan
from hearing his Master's voice, this fundamental belief in his
own worthlessness, that he had been unloved at the end by the
one man he cared for with all his heart. Obi-Wan could believe
anything but that Qui-Gon would return to him. All his fault...
//What did I do to you?//
Between them, they had gutted Anakin...but he was killing
Obi-Wan, he could feel it in his bones.
His own death had been cleaner by far.
They were still dying all around him. The Jedi, across a
thousand worlds, falling beneath the fury of the Empire. That
first blistering shock had been the worst, a deafening scream
torn from countless throats as the grey plains of transition
were devoured by flames. Only flames, wailing columns of fire,
because there was nothing left of them but the heat of their
passing. He had wept then, though he had thought he'd forgotten
how...but when he looked for it again, that bloody rope that
tied him to the world of the living was still there, still
strong, and he'd known the worst was yet to come.
Helpless, Qui-Gon had watched Obi-Wan struggle to find some
place to defend, his own grief subsumed in the need to help his
fellows. For a few hopeful months, Qui-Gon had seen the
emergence of the Jedi he'd always known was in Obi-Wan, a
strong and fearless man who could make the very planets dance
to his whim. So long as there was someone else who needed his
help, Obi-Wan was a bastion of solid will, unswerving in his
purpose.
Until one by one, they all died and left him alone again,
broken, sick at heart, eaten alive by exhaustion and defeat.
His own Padawan was long gone, turned to the Dark as Qui-Gon's
had before him, one more bitterly ironic twist of Fate that had
the taste of a coup de grace in its impersonal malice. Obi-Wan
had been there when Amidala breathed her last, delivering her
children into his care, and Obi-Wan had gotten them to safety
as best as he could.
The daughter had been swiftly coronated and sent to Alderaan,
one of the few remaining pockets of peace in the new Empire,
but the son had gone with Obi-Wan into hiding, until Obi-Wan
could no longer trust himself to care for the boy. He was too
tired, too dangerous to be around, too uncertain of his own
heart and his ability to raise a child in the Light. Had he
been able to, Qui-Gon would have insisted Obi-Wan keep the boy
close--Luke was the sole brightness left in Obi-Wan's life, the
one thing that could drag him out of his despair. Luke was as
sensitive as his father had been, but though the child had to
find the feeling of Obi-Wan's sorrow oppressive, the boy loved
Obi-Wan anyway, lifting Obi-Wan's heart with his generous
adoration. Obi-Wan was impossible not to love...and Qui-Gon
should have told him so, years ago.
Watching the dying bleed in and out of the grey, Qui-Gon lifted
his head sharply as he felt a different sort of tugging at the
bond that connected him to Obi-Wan. Troubled, he rose and
stared around him, one hand covering his chest as if to shield
that uncanny cord from sight. It was almost as if...as if he
were being pulled at a right angle from the direction he was
used to going. On the one hand, it felt like
Obi-Wan...but it was as if Obi-Wan had...moved...
//No,// he snapped, shoving the suspicion that had crept up on
him away, but it was far too late for that. There was a figure
taking shape just before him, a man settled into a peaceful
position of meditation and whose outline became more and more
clear the slower his heart beat. It was an old, old trick,
throwing your body into a kind of hibernation, but this man was
taking it further, taking the last, irrevocable resort when
trapped in an insupportable position.
Obi-Wan hadn't looked so truly serene in over a decade.
He couldn't let it happen, not like this... Sinking to his
knees before his Padawan, Qui-Gon cupped this tired man's face
in both hands, steeling himself for disappointment--
--and was nearly crushed by relief when Obi-Wan's eyes flew
open, fixing on his in utter shock.
"Obi-Wan," he breathed, feeling the prick of tears in his eyes
as Obi-Wan's jaw dropped silently, hope and guilt and shame
chasing themselves across Obi-Wan's face.
"M-master?" Obi-Wan whispered hesitantly, and before Obi-Wan
could flee or wake, Qui-Gon pulled him into a desperate
embrace, holding on painfully tight. A bare heartbeat later,
Obi-Wan melted into his touch, hugging back just as hard and
sobbing helplessly into his Master's neck.
"Shh," Qui-Gon murmured against the silken hair he remembered
so well, stroking his hands down Obi-Wan's back. "I'm here,
Padawan...I've always been here..."
"No," Obi-Wan protested, but Qui-Gon silenced him with a kiss
at his temple, the simple caress leaving Obi-Wan rigid with
surprise.
"Yes. I've always been with you. You just couldn't let yourself
see," Qui-Gon explained softly, pulling back to take Obi-Wan's
face in his hands once more. Meeting the other man's troubled
stare without flinching, Qui-Gon smiled, "How could I leave you
when we're still bonded?"
Eyes wide, Obi-Wan only stared at him until he closed his eyes,
feeling the connection between them and opening it wide,
pouring all his love into it. Obi-Wan's choked gasp made him
open his eyes again, meeting Obi-Wan's with a calmness he
didn't entirely feel. "And that too is for always," he promised
quietly, but Obi-Wan shook his head, his expression collapsing
into woe once more.
"This is a dream," he said dully, staring at Qui-Gon from
across a gulf of misery. "You're not...not real..."
"You're dying," Qui-Gon insisted bluntly. "You don't have time
to dream. If you weren't more here than alive, I'd still
be trying to reach you and getting ignored by my own
Padawan--and this is very real," he added, the intensity of his
voice silencing Obi-Wan again. "I can't let you do this to
yourself, Obi-Wan...I'll be paying for my other mistakes for
years yet, but not this one, not this time. You still have a
life, a purpose--don't throw it away, Padawan. Please."
"Is this my punishment, then?" Obi-Wan smiled weakly, eyes
dark. The smile meant nothing--Qui-Gon could tell that Obi-Wan
meant what he said, the idea that his Master had come to take
him to task for his failures infinitely easier for Obi-Wan to
believe than that anyone would care whether he lived or died
except to hurry him on to the latter.
"No," Qui-Gon growled. "It's mine. Because I'm selfish
enough to want you with me forever, but I have to wait. Do you
understand me? I want you. I love you. I always have.
But I'm a fool, and you had to pay for that, and...I can't
possibly tell you just how sorry I am for that. If I had it to
do over again, I'd have told you this long since, Obi-Wan...you
were the most important thing in my life. And I was the
greatest fool of all for assuming you would know no matter what
I did."
"Master..." Obi-Wan wanted to believe, even if he
thought it was just a last comfort before dying, but Qui-Gon
knew that wouldn't be enough to send him back into the world of
the living.
"Live, Obi-Wan," he demanded, leaning closer. "Live, and
believe in me, and I'll never leave you alone again. I
promise."
And then he closed the gap between them, covering Obi-Wan's
lips with his own, their first kiss sweet and gentle and almost
chaste, until Obi-Wan surged into his embrace, opening beneath
him with a faint whimper of need. Then it was fire, the heat of
it sinking into his bones and setting him alight. It was all he
had wanted for so long, and letting go was going to destroy
him...but the certainty that this was not Obi-Wan's time was a
gut-deep humming along his senses, and he knew it would be
worth anything to see this beautiful, beloved man back into the
arms of the living. No matter how much it hurt.
"Do you trust me?" he whispered breathlessly as he pulled away,
and though Obi-Wan's eyes were wild and frantic, he saw nothing
but that trust looking back at him, as unspoken and strong as
ever. "Then go back, Obi-Wan...go back and listen for me, and
I'll be there. You'll never be alone again."
"Why can't I stay?" Obi-Wan asked, but there was no argument
there, only grief.
"Because you're more important than you could possibly know,"
Qui-Gon smiled fondly back, letting all his pride show in his
voice. Obi-Wan shook his head again, but Qui-Gon knew he would
go, just as he'd always known his Padawan would do anything for
him, no matter how difficult. Even live. "Remember, Obi-Wan.
Remember that I love you."
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan swallowed, and there was time for one
more lingering glance before Qui-Gon found himself alone again
in the grey, his arms empty.
//Remember,// he prayed silently, his heart pulling taut within
his chest, dreading Obi-Wan's waking with a fear that no longer
surprised him. He couldn't go through this again...not after
he'd finally touched his beloved, not after that... If Obi-Wan
still didn't believe and shut him out...
He felt a twinging in his chest, a tangled knot of emotions
vibrating through their bond that left him shaking with the
force of that summons. Rising, he stared blindly across the
grey for a long moment, unable to believe what he sensed...
And then he was traveling swift as thought to his beloved's
side, the impression of open arms a beacon of welcome to guide
him.
***
end
***
Down - Gravity Kills
I'm your fear, I'm your monster
What's hiding in your shadow? Is it taking what's left of you?
Now take me, now lead me from you
Now take me from the light that's dying in your eye
I'm finding out what's left of you, you're burning out
What's left of you? Choking on doubt, you're choking
Way down, way down now, what's left of you?
See no fear, speak no evil
Are you screaming out to no one as you fall down a mountain of pride?
I feel you, my eyes wide open
I feel you, do you think you can save yourself in time?
I'm finding out what's left of you, you're burning out
What's left of you? Choking on doubt, you're choking
Way down, way down now, what's left of you?
What you see, what tears into you
Behind the wheel that leads you, are you facing a truth that won't
die?
Now take me, now lead me from you
Now take me from the light that's dying in your eye
I'm finding out what's left of you,
I'm finding out what's left of you
You're burning out what's left of you, you're king of doubt,
You're choking, way down, way down now, what's left of you
What's left of you, you're burning out, what's left of you
Choking on doubt, you're choking
Way down, way down now, what's left of you?
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