Master Apprentice
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Disclaimer: Not mine, poor fellows; at least I show them a good time once in a while
Rating: PG-13 <g>
Summary: Mirror Qui-Gon POV to "Sacrifices," in the Exiles Universe
We live simply here on Tatooine, of necessity. The Order had formerly taken care of all our needs, but now, we had to rely on our own resources and skills, both in working and budgeting. I didn't mind, as long as Obi-Wan is here and well, and there is enough to sustain both of us, I'm quite content.
Well, mostly content. I know that Obi-Wan worries about funds, never more than now when things are tight, as they are now. That bothers me, particularly when I find him calculating and recalculating again to see if there is some magic formula that will cover us through to the next harvest.
"You're thinking about money again." I lean over him, so close that I can almost feel the frustration and anxiety emanating from my beloved lifemate.
He reaches back and tugs a lock of my hair. "Well, yes." His sigh is heartfelt. "I think we are in a bit of bind this year, love, but it's nothing for you to be concerned with. I'll figure something out."
I wish he wouldn't lock me out of his worries. I put my hands on his shoulders and the muscles there are exceedingly tense; I begin to work the knots, gently at first, and the more firmly. Obi-Wan's head rolls back, and he groans in pleasure, and I am once again reminded of our years together, the sweetness of those years, all our troubles not withstanding.
It takes a while, but it distracts him from the frustration of balancing accounts, at least for a little while. Finally, I can feel his restlessness increase, I finish up with a touch to his cheek and a kiss on the nape of his neck. It earns me a brief smile. "Maybe I can bottle that and sell it," he tries to joke, but grimaces.
I sit down beside him, retrieving my meditation beads. The stones are semi-precious, and the focus stone itself is very good sized. "Perhaps these will bring us a bit of money, love. Shall I try and find a buyer for them?"
"Absolutely not." His tone is snappish, clipped. We've had this conversation before, to my regret. "I wouldn't dream of such a thing and neither will you."
"They are just a trinket, Obi-Wan." Mildly."I don't even use them anymore." Which is quite true.
Obi-Wan glares at me. "You will not sell those." I hold his gaze for a moment, and his jaw sets. "I will see my brother."
"Your brother?" I blink and shake my head to clear it. Owen Lars is a good man, else we would not have asked him to rear the infant, but as a man, I do not find him likable. And the way he treats Obi-Wan is completely reprehensible.
He nods, his jaw tightening even more. "Yes. I will go see Owen and ask him for a loan of water for the harvest. It is regrettable, but it must be done."
I don't like that at all. I don't like him humbling himself before a brother who resents him, but he's not my padawan, he's a man, and I have no right to forbid him anything. "I don't think that is wise, Obi-Wan."
He shrugs. "Whether it is wise or not isn't the question, love. It must be done or we shall starve come the next harvest cycle. That is the black and white of it I fear."
Now I'm even more unhappy. "Nothing is in black or white, Obi-Wan. There are always other options. We can find them."
He's already risen and reached for his robe, slips his arms into the sleeves and raises the hood. "Believe me Qui-Gon, I've meditated on this for a long time now and have come to this conclusion with just as much trepidation. But we simply don't have a choice."
He kisses me quickly on the forehead and then slips out the door before I can stop him or argue the point.
Sometimes, I think he does that on purpose.
I decide that he's going to get another massage this evening, a full body massage, and then I get up and pick up my robe from the hook on the wall. He's taken the speeder, but I reach out with my senses toward our nearest neighbor, a private and uncommunicative man who occasionally allows me to borrow his vehicle.
It's a bit of a walk, but if I leave now, I'll be there before the sun is high enough to really be unbearable.
On that thought, I pocket the meditation beads and shrug into my robe, stepping out into the early morning sunlight.
We have enough worries; if he will not share the burden with me, the least I can do is try and ease it.
I'm not sure what the source of Owen's resentment is, to be sure; Beru seems to think highly of her brother in marriage, if for no other reason than the fact that we brought them a child.
I suspect it must have started long before Obi-Wan was my padawan; I wonder if that was the source of some of Obi-Wan's combative tendencies, except that I know he was brought to the temple as a toddler.
Of course, that doesn't mean he didn't have contact with his parents at all; he was visited regularly, in point of fact, and I am sure that Owen was there on those visits.
All that I do know is that it still hurts Obi-Wan, never mind that he is no longer a child, no longer a young man. Each time he meets with Owen, an occurence that is blessedly rare, he is subdued and silent for a time. My Obi-Wan, strong and resourceful and with enough fire in him to threaten to put me in stasis and have me hauled to our escape ship, returns looking as if someone has beaten him.
I get several bids from local buyers in town, quite easily, and I am good at dickering. With a little Jedi trick, not enough to wake the Hutt's interest in changing Force currents, I push the bids higher until I get the sum I want.
A goodly sum. Hopefully enough to relieve Obi-Wan's fears and worries and let him rest at least a bit in comfort. It won't bring us luxury, but it will give us what's needful. And before I leave, I stop by the water dealer's office and make sure that we get it.
I return the speeder to our neighbor, and walk home in the afternoon glare of the suns, feeling bittersweet and relieved at once. Obi- Wan will undoubtedly shout at me for selling the beads, but I cannot imagine why he thinks I value them more than I value my beloved's peace of mind.
He's not yet home, so I begin cooking our evening meal. But he comes in while I'm still cooking and his face is drawn, almost haggard. The twitch of the muscle in his jaw tells me that his head hurts, that he is controlling the pain with an act of will, and that the tension in his shoulders and neck has increased tenfold.
Owen.
I have to suppress a brief, urgent flare of rage, but say nothing. Obi-Wan returns my nod, and my throat aches briefly, seeing the physical and emotional exhaustion in him. He hangs up his robe, pauses at the sight of the water meter.
I wasn't wrong about the shouting.
"What have you done?" he snaps. "Where did this water come from?"
I hold his gaze, my poor love is so distracted and upset and again, I have to swallow the desire to take the speeder to Owen's and do something an old man would almost certainly regret. "I sold the beads, love."
"I told you not to." That muscle in his jaw jumps and he hisses the words as if his head hurts too badly to speak aloud.
"It is already done." I open my mouth to tell him that I value him more than a set of inanimate beads, but...
"I told you not to!" he bursts out furiously, voice rising. "By the Force, Qui-Gon! Will no one ever listen to me? Will I never be heard?" He shouted at me like this on Coruscant; then, it was to get through my singleminded determination to sacrifice myself.
Now, though, it is simply a wounded heart. I open my arms, move forward and then he is in my embrace, and I whisper the words of our bond oath to him again. "Let me be with you, in this as in all things. In times of need always, no sacrifices shall we make alone." A whisper against my cheek. "You don't always have to be the strong one, beloved. Let me take some of this burden away, allow me to me share it. It is only right." Softly. I hope persuasively.
He doesn't reply except for harsh sobs, stifled in my tunic. I lift his face, kiss his eyelids, his eyebrows, his cheekbones, brush my mouth over his, and cup his face between my hands. "It is only right," I repeat. "The sorrows as well as the joys, beloved."
It takes a moment, but he nods. I hold him tightly, he holds me, and I know, it will be all right. We will manage together, and I sense that he's released his tight grip on all our burdens; that is what a lifebond is, I whisper to him, stroking his hair. How odd, that for all our years, we continue to learn from each other; how bittersweet, and yet fulfilling that we turn and turn about, teaching each other, succoring one another.
I hold him for a long time, and then he sighs, unwilling to lift his head. "How I love you," I murmur, and then smile, unseen. "If you will go and sit, I'll bring you something to eat, and then I'll give you another massage." He must feel as if he'd been beaten, given what Owen doubtless put him through.
Despite the Code, despite my Jedi training, I would very much like to beat Owen.
Finally, Obi-Wan lifts his head and smiles wanly. "Chardik again?"
"No, I have a surprise." And I do. As I said, I drive a fierce bargain.
For the first time he smiles, some of the pain leaving his face, to be replaced by the first faint signs of hope I have seen in cycles. "A surprise? Why does that frighten me?"
"Lack of faith," I tell him solemnly and kiss the mouth that has become so dear to me.
He gazes at me for a moment. "Not any more." A little shakily.
Well, what can I do? I embrace him again.
It will be all right.
fini
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