Warning: This is not canon compliant. In Cori's World of
Fantasy and Psychosis, Qui-Gon is still in one piece, and those
pyramids came over the horizon a long time ago.
Spoilers: For TPM and the first few JA books. Nothing major.
Summary: After Obi-Wan's knighting, a bout of separation
anxiety leads Qui-Gon to wonder if some bonds are not meant to
be broken-whether they like it or not.
Feedback: Oh, yes, please. In any form or amount, but I get
especially giddy over the ones where you tell me what you liked
or didn't like about the story.
Notes: Humble thanks go to Ruth and Lanning, The
Extraordinarily Patient, for beta advice and general tolerance.
"Confer on you the level of Jedi Knight we do, Obi-Wan Kenobi."
Qui-Gon Jinn allowed himself a moment of unmitigated pride as
he watched his apprentice--almost his former
apprentice--kneeling before Master Yoda and the assembled Jedi
Council, head bowed humbly. Obi-Wan had no choice but to be
humble in his new Knighthood, serene and self-abnegating, the
perfect Jedi at his trial. His Master, however, had the freedom
to revel in the satisfaction of finally seeing his Padawan
honored by the Council. He had earned it. They both had.
Yoda glanced at him with amusement, then motioned him forward,
and Qui-Gon's elation faded somewhat. He had anticipated this
moment with equal delight and dread, the moment when he would
sever the ties that bound Obi-Wan to him as a student and greet
him as an equal. As glad as he was to see the culmination of
all the years of Obi-Wan's hard training, especially
considering how close Qui-Gon had come to never seeing this day
at all, he still felt a pervasive sadness at the thought of
ending their training bond and giving up the closeness they had
shared for so long.
But it had to be done. Obi-Wan no longer needed him, and down
in the initiates' quarters, Anakin awaited his new Master.
Replacing one training bond with another so quickly was hardly
orthodox, but little about the last few weeks could be called
orthodox. Qui-Gon had meditated on the coming change for hours,
preparing himself to break the link as cleanly and gently as
possible, although he knew nothing could make it easy for
either of them. They should have had more time, but there was
no more time to be had.
He stepped forward to where Obi-Wan still knelt. His student's
lightsaber tapped against Qui-Gon's thigh from its unaccustomed
place on his belt; Obi-Wan had given it over to him before the
trials began, with the understanding that he would receive it
back as a full Jedi Knight, or not at all. Obi-Wan looked up at
him and smiled, meeting his eyes for the first time since the
trials. "You have done well, my Padawan," Qui-Gon murmured as
he knelt down facing Obi-Wan. He savored the words, knowing
this was the last time he would address Obi-Wan so.
"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan said softly. "For everything."
"It has been my honor and my pleasure." He could not resist a
last brush across their training bond, letting Obi-Wan feel his
pride and affection. Obi-Wan smiled again and returned the
gentle touch with his own love and gratitude, even as Yoda made
his halting way around to stand beside them.
The elder Master held out a small, much-used but razor-sharp
knife. "This Padawan you have trained, Master Qui-Gon Jinn.
Accept him now as a Knight, do you?"
His final opportunity, as Obi-Wan's Master, to voice any
compelling doubts he might harbor about the young man's fitness
to become a Jedi. His gaze never wavered from Obi-Wan's as he
reached up to take the knife from Yoda. "I accept him with full
confidence in his worthiness. The Force is with him."
Yoda nodded and took a few paces back as Qui-Gon closed his
eyes to gather himself. When he opened them again, Obi-Wan
still looked steadily at him, the picture of serenity. Only the
faintest tinge of sadness through their link gave lie to the
image, a last telling trickle through the bond. And soon, there
would be nothing at all.
He lifted one hand to take the braid, sliding it through his
fingers before grasping it firmly, close to Obi-Wan's head.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, perfectly submissive to his Master for
the last time as Qui-Gon raised the knife to just above
Obi-Wan's ear, poised to sever the hair at the same moment he
severed the ties of apprenticeship between them. "Force be with
you," Qui-Gon whispered and stroked the blade smoothly along
the side of Obi-Wan's head, feeling the braid come free in his
hand. At the same time, he reached carefully into Obi-Wan's
mind with the Force, found the anchor of their training bond
and sliced cleanly through it, bracing himself for the
inevitable feeling of loss.
Nothing happened.
Frowning slightly, he poked cautiously at the link. Impossibly,
it was still there. He focused again, then repeated the action.
Obi-Wan's brow wrinkled over his closed eyes. Is that
it?
Hush! He did not need the boy complicating matters by
using the bond even as he was trying his best to break it. He
quickly reviewed everything he knew about the procedure,
everything he had done before, then braced for a third try. The
bond did not budge. Again he tried, and again failed, then
another time and another after that, until he felt like the
bond was even more firmly anchored than it had been when he
began. Let go, he told Obi-Wan urgently, knowing the
Council were beginning to stir curiously.
I'm not doing anything!
"A problem, you have?" Yoda's mild inquiry broke into their
mental argument, and Qui-Gon sat back on his heels, aware that
he was beginning to sweat from his mental efforts. "It would
seem, my Master," he said, trying to hide his embarrassment,
"that the dissolution of my training bond with Obi-Wan is not
progressing as smoothly as I had anticipated it would."
"You can't break it?" Ki-Adi-Mundi's voice held a note of
astonishment and ridicule, and Qui-Gon tamped down his
annoyance. Of course the training and raising of a Padawan
probably seemed all very simple to Mundi, seeing as the man had
never actually done it himself.
Yoda sighed heavily and leaned on his stick. "Assistance, you
require?"
Qui-Gon hesitated. He wanted to protest that he could handle it
himself, but having already failed so decisively and so many
times, he could hardly make a convincing argument for yet
another attempt. And then he looked at Obi-Wan. The younger man
looked pale and shaken, and he cast a pleading glance at
Qui-Gon. He sighed internally. Whatever illusions Obi-Wan might
still have harbored of his Master's infallibility, they were
well and truly shattered now. Already wearied from his trials,
he did not need any further ordeals in the name of salvaging
Qui-Gon's injured pride. "Yes, my Master," he said reluctantly
at last, trying not to take offense at Obi-Wan's expression of
profound relief. "We would be grateful."
A short nod from Yoda brought Mace Windu to his feet with
ill-concealed annoyance. "For pity's sake, Qui-Gon," he
muttered as he moved to stand on the other side of them. "That
you managed to train the boy at all is a miracle."
"Just get it over with," Qui-Gon muttered. Obi-Wan visibly
braced himself as Windu held a hand over each of their heads
and pulled the Force in around him. Qui-Gon saw it in his
mind's eye as a fiercely glowing saber blade which paused,
poised over them. He had just enough time to realize that Windu
intended to destroy the bond with brute power, and that such a
tactic was likely to cause significant pain, before the
Force-born blade arced down between him and Obi-Wan.
Pain was too mild a description for the shock that reverberated
through him, searing into every synapse, blinding him to
everything outside his own head. When it eased enough for him
to focus again, he saw Windu a few paces further away than he
had been before, doubled over and panting. Obi-Wan was panting,
too, and staring at Qui-Gon questioningly.
A moment later, the thoughts touched him as they should not
have been able to. Master?
Qui-Gon could only stare back in dismay.
"A problem we have," Yoda said.
They walked back to their quarters in silence. Qui-Gon's head
pounded with every step, and he did not need to look over at
his companion to know that Obi-Wan's expression matched his
own: aching, embarrassed and frustrated.
Three excrutiatingly long hours passed in the Council chamber.
Each member of the Council had taken a turn wrenching and
hacking at the recalcitrant link; then they joined as a mass
and in smaller groups to discuss and implement strategies of
varying subtlety. Yoda had even led the pair in a guided
meditation intended to coax the bond free, the more violent
methods having failed spectacularly. But even that accomplished
nothing, even before Obi-Wan fell asleep from sheer exhaustion
in the midst of the trance.
At last Yoda called a stop, looking almost as pained as Qui-Gon
felt. All the efforts of the most powerful living Jedi Masters
had made no impression on the bond. It endured everything they
bombarded it with and slipped from their grasp at every attempt
to remove it. "Extraordinarily resilient," Yoda had muttered to
himself over and over. "Extraordinarily resilient." Just as
Qui-Gon thought his sanity might snap before the bond did, Yoda
sent them home with instructions to rest and meditate while the
Council debated what to do next.
Rest, preferably with the covers pulled up over his head to
hide from whatever it was in the universe that had it in for
him, seemed a deeply appealing option to Qui-Gon as the door to
their quarters slid open at their approach. Yet even as Obi-Wan
threw himself down, scowling, to sprawl across the couch,
Qui-Gon found himself too agitated to seek the peace of his own
sleeping room. Instead, he paced from one end of their living
space to the other, examining and straightening the sparse
contents of the room, although almost nothing had been touched
since before they left for Naboo. The tension in the room grew
until a mutter from Obi-Wan broke the silence.
Qui-Gon turned sharply. "What did you say?"
Obi-Wan looked at him with cool aplomb, save for the flash of
heat deep in his eyes. "Typical. This is so typical."
"And what does that mean, precisely?"
Despite Qui-Gon's sternest look, Obi-Wan did not flinch. "It
means that apparently asking for everything to go smoothly,
just this once, on the second most important day of my life, is
too much to ask. You can't just break the bond like every other
Jedi Master for the last thousand generations. No, you have to
be different."
The flash of hurt--Obi-Wan seemed eager enough to get rid of
him--made Qui-Gon snap more sharply than he had meant to. "I
handled two training bonds before you ever came along, and they
both ended with great finality, I'll have you know."
Obi-Wan bit his lip and looked away, and Qui-Gon subsided,
abruptly grateful that Obi-Wan had not chosen to pursue the
subject of previous apprentices. The bonds had ended,
certainly, but any proclamation of great success in them would
not hold up to the determined scrutiny he knew Obi-Wan was
capable of giving the matter--and probably already had.
Qui-Gon's teaching history was no secret, especially not from
his current, naturally inquisitive student.
He sat heavily on the couch next to Obi-Wan, and they sat
together in silence, too wound up for sleep, too tired for
meditation. A wide sunbeam moved across the floor as Qui-Gon
tried to nudge his thoughts in the proper direction, to align
with the will of the Force as he had perceived it. He had
finished training Obi-Wan; now, he needed to train Anakin. It
should have been no more complicated than that. And yet, here
they sat, at an impasse.
Obi-Wan's voice summoned him back softly from the inner world
of his thoughts. "If we can't figure out how to break this,
then what?"
"We will. The Force will guide us." His stock answer to
everything, and Obi-Wan knew it, but he had nothing else to
offer. Such an unusual event could only come about through the
Force, whether or not they understood its will. He did his best
to live in compliance with that will, and had taught Obi-Wan to
do the same, regardless of their own wishes or expectations.
And a fine job it's done so far. Obi-Wan looked at him
darkly, daring him to rebuke the unspoken blasphemy he should
not have been able to hear. Qui-Gon held his peace until
Obi-Wan continued aloud. "And what if it doesn't? What if it
isn't guiding us the way you want it to go?"
"It will." Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes menacingly. Obi-Wan always
made things more difficult than they needed to be. It was one
of his less charming personality traits, as was the fact that
he seemed unimpressed by Qui-Gon's annoyance. "It is
necessary."
"Why?"
He stared at Obi-Wan in surprise. Obi-Wan's jaw was set
stubbornly, but his eyes were as wistful as they were defiant
as he met Qui-Gon's gaze evenly. "What do you mean, why?"
"Why? Why does it matter?" Obi-Wan gave a tiny shrug with a
hesitant smile. "I know the training bond is no longer
necessary, but why does it matter so much that it be dissolved
immediately?"
At least Obi-Wan no longer seemed so frantic to be rid of him.
A small comfort, although trust Obi-Wan to choose these
circumstances to express his attachment. He had never heard of
such an attachment causing a training bond to become
unbreakable, but he would not be surprised if Obi-Wan were the
one to manage it. "No one can have more than one training bond
at a time. It is simply not possible. The Code forbids having
more than one apprentice or Master for exactly that reason."
"I am well aware of that," Obi-Wan replied with a patience that
strayed too near condescension for the comfort of Qui-Gon's
edgy nerves. "What I'm asking is why you're so upset about it."
"Because," Qui-Gon said as evenly as he could. Barely a hint of
his mental snarl manifested in his tone, and he congratulated
himself. "Until our bond dissolves, I cannot take another
Padawan learner, and neither can you."
A casual shrug of his shoulders suggested nonchalance, but
something lurked in the back of Obi-Wan's eyes that gave
Qui-Gon pause. "I'm not in a hurry." Lips thinned with
repressed pain twitched upwards. "After all, I know exactly how
many of your gray hairs I'm responsible for. I confess I don't
understand why you're so eager to repeat the experience yet
again."
"You know exactly why." The words came out harsher than he had
intended, and he imagined he could feel yet another gray hair
sprouting as he spoke. "Do you think I'm truly eager for
another apprentice at my age? I have to train Ani. No one else
will."
The next instant he knew he had said the worst thing possible
under the circumstances. Obi-Wan's eyes widened as though
Qui-Gon had struck him on the head, then narrowed into icy
chips. "I see," he said. "Just like me."
"Obi-Wan--" he started, horrified, but Obi-Wan was already up
and moving across the room before Qui-Gon could catch him.
"Maybe Anakin is better off this way." Obi-Wan's voice held
more sadness than anger, and Qui-Gon moved toward him on
instinct. "Better he find out now."
The door to Obi-Wan's room snapped shut just as Qui-Gon reached
it. He palmed at the release, but it did not budge. He stared
at it, baffled. Obi-Wan had never, in all the years of his
apprenticeship, locked his door against his Master. "Obi-Wan!"
He pounded his hand on the door frame in frustration. "Padawan,
out here now!"
The door remained stubbornly shut, and the silence from behind
it hung tauntingly around him. Slowly, Qui-Gon realized his
second mistake. He had called for his Padawan, but he had no
further claim on Obi-Wan's obedience as his Master, and Obi-Wan
was making that point clear to him. "Fine," he called into the
silence. "Remain there and sulk, if that's what you wish to
do."
Before Obi-Wan could continue to pointedly follow that
directive, Qui-Gon turned on his heel and retreated into his
own room to do the same.
The insistent buzzing of the com-panel woke him from the
exhausted sleep in which he had indulged when meditation had
proved almost as exasperating an exercise as talking to
Obi-Wan. He rubbed at his eyes to get them to stay open, then
swung his legs over the side of the sleep couch, pleased when
they carried him without protest the few steps to the panel.
Yoda, when his transparent blue image finally appeared at the
touch of a button, looked considerably less pleased. Qui-Gon's
brief bow went unacknowledged as the narrowed eyes examined him
closely. "Not yet recovered from Naboo are you," Yoda said at
last. "I should have seen this sooner."
"I am fully recovered from the injuries I sustained on Naboo,
Master." He would, in fact, have preferred to forget that
accursed planet entirely, were it possible to do so.
"You are not." Yoda's tone brooked no further argument. "Not in
touch with the Force and yourself you are. Not as you should
be. Extraordinarily resilient your bond has proved to be, and
extraordinarily resilient you are, but still only human."
"Perhaps you are right, my Master." Qui-Gon had cheated death
on Naboo, and while he did not fear death, such an experience
was food for many hours of meditation, hours he had not been
able to give himself between caring for Anakin and preparing
Obi-Wan for his trials. But the reality of his experience
loomed in his mind. The Force had claimed him, and Obi-Wan had
brought him back.
A thought struck him at that, but Yoda lifted a hand with a
sigh before Qui-Gon could do more than draw the breath to
speak. "Enough of your theories have I heard for one week,
Qui-Gon Jinn."
"But, Master," Qui-Gon persisted. "If Obi-Wan somehow deepened
or cemented the bond while healing me through it on Naboo, it
could explain the difficulty."
"Perhaps so, perhaps not. If so, permanent the problem likely
is." Although he did not seem impressed by Qui-Gon's theory,
Yoda seemed resigned to the prospect of insolubility, and
Qui-Gon frowned.
"But what of Anakin?"
The elder Master sighed again. "In one thing, you were correct.
Training the boy must have, or more dangerous he will become.
Wait for you, young Skywalker cannot. I will begin his training
myself."
He knew he was staring, dumbfounded. The Council did not
reverse its decisions often, and Yoda had been one of the most
leery of admitting Anakin to their order. "You will train
Anakin?"
"Told you that already, I did." The snappish tone made Yoda's
displeasure with the entire situation clear. "I have seen
further."
"What have you seen, my Master?" Qui-Gon leaned forward,
intrigued by whatever could have compelled Yoda to so
drastically alter his course of action, but the other Master
waved him off.
"Your concern it no longer is," Yoda said firmly. "Concern
yourself now with your own Padawan."
"I no longer have a Padawan." It was not the first time in his
life, nor even the second, that he had spoken those words, but
they felt as strange and untrue in his mouth as they ever had.
Perhaps more so now. "Obi-Wan is a Knight, now."
"He is a Knight, yes." Yoda nodded and thumped his walking
stick in front of him. "But bound to you he is still, and the
cause of that is within you to discover. Further time to play
counselor, I do not have. May the Force be with you."
Qui-Gon barely had time for a short bow of acknowledgment
before Yoda's image blinked out. Still somewhat disoriented, he
took the few steps back to his sleep couch and sat heavily,
calming his thoughts into rational order only with great
effort.
The Council had taken responsibility for Anakin's care from
him. The Chosen One--for after Naboo he was more certain than
ever that Anakin was indeed the Chosen One--was no longer his
charge. As a Jedi, he did not expect to feel any injured pride
or undue grief over the prospect. He did not expect to feel
much at all, save happiness that Anakin would after all be
accepted as a Jedi, or perhaps a faint regret at having lost
the chance to teach an exceptionally bright and spirited boy.
He did not expect the rush of overwhelming relief that filled
him and spilled over into a strange and quiet joy.
Bowing his head and closing his eyes, he prepared to trace the
source and meaning of the unorthodox emotional welling. For a
time, all that would come to him were vague, fretful thoughts
of Obi-Wan that he could not pin down long enough to gain any
enlightenment. He was too tired for this; Naboo had sapped more
from him than he would admit to anyone.
He was too old, as well, too old to be chasing his subconscious
around his skull like a churba cub chasing a moth. Certainly he
was too old to be clinging to his newly-knighted apprentice as
though he needed Obi-Wan to cut his food for him. A good thing,
then, that he was not to train Anakin. At this rate, he would
be such a mewling, pathetic mess by the time the boy attained
his knighthood that they would have to lock him away for his
own safety.
Old he was, but not that old. Yet the Force seemed to tell him
clearly: he still needed Obi-Wan. Still wanted him.
Wanted him. Oh, yes. That knowledge was old as well, put aside
long ago with the awareness that no matter how much he wanted
Obi-Wan, he could not have him. It was the way of the Force
that a Master would train his Padawan, care for him, and then
let him go to serve the Force on his own. A Master could love
his Padawan, but not possess him, not keep him. Qui-Gon had
long since made his peace with that reality, and had focused on
guiding Obi-Wan into his full potential as a Jedi, without
thought for his own desires.
And yet, here they were. The cold, horrible realization began
to rise within him that his earlier, self-pitying thoughts had
been closer to the truth than he wanted to believe. Obi-Wan was
not the one who could not let go, who had cemented them
together so that not even the Council could break them apart.
He had done it himself, without even the excuse of youthful
attachments or insecurities, failing inexcusably in the final
duty he owed to his Padawan.
Someone was tapping on his door, interrupting his fall into
dismay. From the increasing urgency of the sound,
they--Obi-Wan, for who else could it be?--had been tapping for
some time. Testing cautiously, he found to his relief that
although he could feel Obi-Wan's presence and concern through
the Force, the bond had at last receded to its normal level of
intensity. Obi-Wan would have felt nothing of his realization.
"Yes, Obi-Wan," he called.
By the time the door opened, Qui-Gon had composed himself
again, although the dubious look Obi-Wan gave him made him
suspect his outward appearance was not as serene as he might
have hoped. Obi-Wan leaned against the doorjamb and regarded
him for a moment, then straightened up and drew a determined
breath. "Qui-Gon, I wish to offer my apologies for what I--"
"No, Obi-Wan." He waved a hand to stop Obi-Wan's words. "No
more apologies from you. We have both said things we should not
have. Perhaps we should begin this new phase of our lives with
a clear slate between us."
Obi-Wan remained still for a moment, then slowly nodded and
relaxed. "This new phase--as new as it can be, considering the
circumstances--is what I wanted to discuss with you."
"Now?" The word came out spontaneously, and he could not tell
if it sounded pathetic or combative. From the smile Obi-Wan
quickly subdued, he suspected the former.
"No, not now." Obi-Wan leaned back against the jamb and
regarded him solemnly. "I was wondering if you would like to
have dinner with me tonight."
"Dinner? We've eaten together almost every night for the last
twelve years." He had not even contemplated that tonight would
be any different. But Obi-Wan was a Knight and could dine where
he chose--perhaps the point he was trying to make to his former
Master.
Or perhaps not, if the slight smirk on Obi-Wan's face was an
indication. "No, I'm asking if you would like to have dinner
with me tonight." Obi-Wan lifted his eyebrows as though daring
Qui-Gon to refuse his boldness.
Resilient, Yoda had called him, but Obi-Wan seemed to fit the
description far more than Qui-Gon. At least Obi-Wan was not
leaving immediately. His spirits rose at the thought, despite
the likelihood of problems later. "I would be very pleased to
have dinner with you tonight. And where will we be dining?"
Obi-Wan lifted his eyebrows, then tilted his head thoughtfully,
and Qui-Gon could not help but wonder if Obi-Wan had actually
gotten past the invitation itself in his planning. The young
man had certainly had other things on his mind today. He
himself had taught Obi-Wan that one did not prepare for the
victory celebration before one had achieved the victory.
"A lesson I remain mindful of at this moment more than any, my
Master." Obi-Wan's voice was arch, and with a start Qui-Gon
realized his shields had slipped again. He reinforced them
hastily, with some embarrassment. Although he had felt the
warmth behind the comment, the words told a blunt truth. How
could Obi-Wan celebrate his newly-won title of independence
when he remained bound in reality?
"As you should, Obi-Wan," he managed to reply calmly. "But
there is no harm in celebrating what you have already
accomplished. And you still haven't told me where you wish to
dine."
Obi-Wan folded his hands into the sleeves of his robe and
lifted his chin in a gesture he had learned from Qui-Gon, then
adapted to his own youthful confidence. Some people had found
it impressive, some even intimidating, but to Qui-Gon it had
always been endearing, and never more appealing than now. "I
thought perhaps you might join me at the kitchen table."
He raised his eyebrows, but couldn't suppress a quirk of a
smile. "An unusual choice for one's Knighting Day."
"I don't think so. I hear it comes highly recommended."
Obi-Wan's expression remained perfectly mild. "I'll take care
of the arrangements."
Qui-Gon nodded his agreement and sat back on his sleep couch.
Even this small, not unpleasant contact with his Padawan
drained his reserves, leaving him longing for rest and
meditation. "Whatever you wish. It is your night."
"I know," Obi-Wan responded.
Qui-Gon started to close his eyes, relieved that the
conversation seemed over, but Obi-Wan made no move to leave. He
stood calmly, as though waiting for Qui-Gon to return his
attention to him, as he often had as an apprentice. Qui-Gon
found himself irked as much by the deference as by the
extension of the encounter. "Yes?" he said, pleased that his
testiness did not reach his voice. Obi-Wan did not deserve to
have this day ruined anymore than it already had been.
Obi-Wan cleared his throat, then his gaze dropped significantly
to Qui-Gon's waist. Confused, Qui-Gon stared back at him,
waiting until he forced Obi-Wan to verbalize whatever it was he
was trying to communicate. "My lightsaber," Obi-Wan said at
last, nodding again to Qui-Gon's waist. "May I have it back? I
did, after all, pass the trials."
Qui-Gon's chin jerked downward as his gaze sought his belt and
the pair of lightsabers that still hung there. He had gotten so
used to the extra weight that he had not noticed it after a
while. "Of course," he said, rising again and fumbling at the
hilts. A long moment passed before he distinguished which was
Obi-Wan's saber; he slid it off his belt and extended it on his
outstretched palm to his former apprentice. There were ritual
words to say, but they had long since fled his mind under the
stress of the earlier ceremony, and to try to recreate them now
seemed awkward and pointless. As Obi-Wan reached to take the
saber from his hand, he said simply, "It is yours."
"Thank you," Obi-Wan replied.
His hand rested heavily on Qui-Gon's through the cool metal as
their gazes locked. As the weight began to lift, Qui-Gon
impulsively leaned forward and brushed a formal kiss across
Obi-Wan's cheek. Twelve years before, he had kissed Obi-Wan's
forehead paternally as he gave him the lightsaber he would bear
in his apprenticeship; this was a kiss of equals, a symbol of
his acceptance of his Padawan as an equal among the Jedi. He
should have given it before the Council, after the severance of
their training bond, when the formality of the moment would
mask the emotions beneath. That, he suspected, was one of the
foremost reasons to hold such ceremonies publicly.
He moved to touch his lips to Obi-Wan's other cheek, completing
the gesture. As he bent his head again, Obi-Wan's eyes caught
him again--briefly, but enough to distract him so that he did
not notice the turning of Obi-Wan's face until his lips found
themselves a resting place softer and more supple than
Obi-Wan's cheek. He froze, warm breath ghosting through the
hair of his beard, Obi-Wan's mouth seeming amazingly responsive
without moving at all. Carefully, he drew away, banishing from
his mind the knowledge of how easy it would be to taste his
Padawan more deeply--and the knowledge that Obi-Wan might well
permit it, in the haze of the moment.
Obi-Wan took a pace back as well, seeming to steady himself
against the door jamb before bowing to Qui-Gon and hooking his
lightsaber to his own belt. "Thank you, Master," he murmured,
then stepped back out the door. It closed immediately in his
wake, leaving Qui-Gon to a deeper puzzle.
Qui-Gon took a deep breath, then sank down again on his sleep
couch. He had time for further meditation before dinner. And he
had the distinct premonition that he would need it.
He did not need to ask what time to show up. He never did; no
matter where or when they ate, he merely went to the proper
place, and if Obi-Wan was not with him, he would already be
there, waiting for him. So when he finished his meditations, he
rose, tidied his appearance, and went out into the common area
of their living quarters.
As he had expected, the small table just outside the equally
small kitchen stood laden with a full meal and as luxurious a
setting as could be found anywhere in the Temple: cloth
napkins, finely-detailed tableware that most definitely did not
belong to them, and a small basket of glowstones that cast a
light designed to make even the most humble meal--or dinner
partner--seem exotic and appealing. Obi-Wan, already the most
appealing of dinner partners, was just setting a last dish on
the table, and looked up at Qui-Gon's arrival with a smile.
The smile was not the reason his stomach suddenly clenched,
although it might have figured a close second. Too much, it was
all too much. Obi-Wan was no longer his apprentice, was no
longer his, and should certainly not be serving him anymore.
This, all of this... it seemed a parody, and although he was
not sure if it was a parody of what they had had before, or
what he might futilely wish for them to have, it still mocked
his present state of emotion. Serenity hung just barely within
his grasp, mocking him in its own way with the threat of
vanishing entirely.
Obi-Wan, always sensitive to his Master's feelings, seemed not
to notice anything amiss as he continued smiling and beckoned
for Qui-Gon to join him. The bond remained quiescent for once,
and Qui-Gon at once thanked and cursed the Force for its
timing. He itched to discover the source of Obi-Wan's
increasingly strange behavior, but such things worked two ways.
The knowledge was not worth the price.
The repast, he noted as he sat, was as impressive a display as
they could have wished for anywhere. Several of his and
Obi-Wan's favorite dishes filled the limited space of the
table, and if Qui-Gon knew that Obi-Wan could not possibly have
cooked them all, his quick survey of the kitchen showed no
tell-tale containers to spoil the effect. Obi-Wan shot him a
conspiratorial glance, and to his surprise, he did not have to
force his answering smile.
They sat in silence for a few moments, until Qui-Gon realized
Obi-Wan was, as usual, waiting for him to make the first choice
of food. Yet another way he would have to nudge their
relationship into the new, correct channels. He motioned for
Obi-Wan to proceed. "You no longer need defer to me, you know."
"I know." As he reached for a serving spoon, Obi-Wan's smile
turned slightly abashed. "But it still seems like what I should
do."
"That will change." He made no effort to hide the tinge of
wistful amusement in his voice as he began to fill his own
plate. "Soon you will wonder why you ever deferred to me at
all."
"No." When Qui-Gon looked up again, Obi-Wan's eyes met his
gravely. A trickle of sensation came through the bond, enough
for him to feel the earnestness of the words. "That will never
happen."
"You say that now." He kept his tone arch, to lighten the mood,
despite the irrational twisting inside him that wanted to
demand a pledge from Obi-Wan on the matter.
"I suppose things do change," Obi-Wan said. The somber downward
curve of his mouth and the crease of his brow as he stared down
at his plate made Qui-Gon regret having said anything at all.
This was a happy occasion. Happy.
But Obi-Wan rebounded quickly, and their conversation turned to
the inconsequential and impersonal. Politics, Temple rumors,
jokes... Qui-Gon found himself only a little surprised by how
easy it was to maneuver around anything that might cause
tension or real emotion. Levity, and the illusion of happiness,
were created easily enough between people who knew each other
as well as they did. Between the looks and smiles they shared,
he could almost imagine they shared an untainted joy. Yet he
could not dismiss the weight on his own heart enough to relax
completely, and when they finished eating, a less comfortable
silence fell over them.
"When will you leave?" The question hung in the air before he
realized he was asking it, but he refused to regret it. He had
a right to know, and however much Obi-Wan wished to pretend
nothing had changed between them, whatever his motivations
might be, reality still remained for them to deal with in the
end.
"When do I leave? For where?" Obi-Wan looked genuinely
confused, and Qui-Gon once again wondered if Obi-Wan had given
any thought at all to what might happen from one minute to the
next. So like him to pick this day of all days to learn to live
only the moment.
"When you leave here." He waved a hand to generally indicate
their surroundings. "You're a Knight, now. You'll have your own
quarters, your own missions."
"Of course." At odds with his earlier glory in his own
independence, Obi-Wan only looked crestfallen behind his mask
of impassivity. "And you'll need my room for Anakin."
Obi-Wan avoided his gaze for a long moment, and Qui-Gon could
sense only an indistinct tumult of emotion through the bond. He
himself had already dismissed Anakin from his conscious mind in
favor of matters that seemed of more immediate importance, but
it seemed the boy still weighed heavily in Obi-Wan's thoughts.
"Is that what all of this is about?"
"All of what?" Obi-Wan's chin lifted almost imperceptibly, but
it was enough to give him a wary look that irrationally sparked
Qui-Gon's irritation.
"This. The dinner, the flirtation, your relentless attempts to
pretend that nothing has changed, that everything is as it was.
Or perhaps as you want it to be." He heard the snap in his own
voice as though from a great distance, but made no attempt to
ameliorate it. It felt too good to finally let loose his own
frustration, to purge his feelings and let Obi-Wan deal with
them.
Dealing with them seemed to involve Obi-Wan yet again staring
at him as though Qui-Gon had struck him. "Is that what you
think?"
"Is that not what it is?"
Obi-Wan stood up abruptly, kicking his chair back behind him
and leaning over the table. "And what if it is? What harm can
there be in giving me this one night to imagine that everything
is still as it was? That I still have a home, that the one
person I love is not so desperate to see me out the door he
cannot even wait until my Knighting Day is over? Or can't you
even pretend to love me that much?"
The punch of Obi-Wan's emotions through the damned bond hit him
like a kick to his stomach. Love. Force, but what did Obi-Wan
know of his love? "Obi-Wan--"
Before he could gather enough breath to articulate his chaotic
thoughts, Obi-Wan turned away, drawing in hitching gasps of
breath. He strode a few paces, then whirled back. He stood with
his head bowed, his face and body trembling with his effort at
whatever control he thought was expected of him. "Forgive me,
Qui-Gon. I did not intend to behave so childishly tonight. This
is all my fault, but I do wish you well with Anakin, I do--"
"No."
"What?" Obi-Wan looked up sharply.
"Anakin will not be my Padawan. I will take no other." He had
not intended to speak the last words, but he knew them to be
true. If they would ease Obi-Wan's mind, let him know it, too.
"But--"
"Yoda will see that Anakin is trained." He took a deep,
shuddering breath and met Obi-Wan's gaze steadily. "No one will
take your place."
Obi-Wan nodded unevenly, his eyes still wild and his face
flushed. He looked away and gave a small laugh. "I suppose I
wore you out," he said, and Qui-Gon knew he had misunderstood.
"I never meant to be a burden to you. I tried so hard not to
be."
"You never were," he managed hoarsely. His heart pounded, and
pounded harder when Obi-Wan caught the undertones in his voice
and slowly lifted his eyes again to Qui-Gon's face. "That was
not what I meant when I said there would be no one in your
place."
They stared at each other in silence. The moment stretched for
what seemed a very long time, but Qui-Gon could not move to
break it. He waited.
"I think," Obi-Wan began, voice almost not trembling. He took a
slow step forward, and hesitancy fell away to reveal a feline
hunting grace in the roll of his hips. "I think perhaps I
understand you now."
"Perhaps," Qui-Gon whispered. Then he found his arms and mouth
filled with the weight and taste of Obi-Wan, and he knew he was
understood very well.
His eyes closed of their own accord as Obi-Wan's lips settled
on his and probed softly, almost politely, until his own
willing lips parted. His head soon spun from the gentle kisses
and the solid heat resting over him. Every barrier inside him
broke as Obi-Wan's mouth left him, and he surged forward to
reclaim the moist, comforting contact. Obi-Wan tangled his
fingers in the hair close to Qui-Gon's scalp, holding him still
for the soft nips and tugs on his lips, each bit of gentle
suction increasing the need for more.
A breathy moan was rising in his throat when Obi-Wan pulled
back, gazing at him with unreadable eyes. They stayed,
regarding each other curiously for a moment; then Obi-Wan was
sliding off his lap and standing, leaving his legs tingling
where Obi-Wan's weight had rested. Too dazed to protest,
Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan calmly cleared the table, leaving
the dishes in meticulous stacks in the kitchen before coming
back to stand before Qui-Gon. "I think we can do this now," he
said.
Qui-Gon nodded, with no pretense at misunderstanding, as
Obi-Wan pulled his chair closer and straddled it. He reached
out and stroked his fingers down Obi-Wan's cheek, the wordless
gesture winning him a smile. Then Obi-Wan leaned forward and
bent his head until their foreheads rested against each other.
Qui-Gon's fingers slid around to cup the back of Obi-Wan's
neck, and he sighed as he closed his eyes.
This time it was easy, so easy he wanted to laugh with mingled
relief and despair. The frazzled ends of the training bond came
undone at the merest touch of their wills, and the strands
loosened and unraveled until the shriveling connection fell
away and disintegrated entirely. An unwitting sob choked him as
he grasped involuntarily for the bond one last time; then it
altered swiftly into a moan of joy and wonder.
Obi-Wan was still there. In his arms, in his mind, radiating as
much joy as Qui-Gon himself felt. "We're all right," Obi-Wan
whispered in relief, and Qui-Gon nodded, eyes still closed.
He pulled Obi-Wan closer and marveled at the utter elation that
filled him, his lingering doubts and griefs gone as though they
had never existed. He felt younger and newer than he had in a
very long time. He bent to Obi-Wan's eager lips again.
Extraordinarily resilient. Yes, they always had been.
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