Master Apprentice Archive Facing the Sky Quick search:

Archive: Master_Apprentice

Content: POV, angst, romance

Pairing: Qui/Obi

Rating: R

Warnings: none

Spoilers: just for TPM

Summary: The boys get cosmological.

Feedback: would be lovely. (isos_arei@hotmail.com)

Disclaimer: Obi and Qui belong to Mr. Lucas and were treated with the utmost respect and tenderness during the writing of this fanfiction.

"Padawan, what in the world are you doing?"

Obi-Wan lay gracelessly on his back in the middle of the floor, limbs tangled in robes, spare tunics, and bedsheets. Numerous books -- his entire library, it seemed -- were scattered about him, as were a handful of data slates, several tablets of graph paper, and perhaps a dozen assorted pens for good measure.

A noncommittal grunt served as the only response from my normally polite, normally very neat, apprentice.

"Obi-Wan, I will need a better answer than that. What are you doing?" I repeated.

He raised his head and met my eyes just long enough to say, "I'm succumbing to entropy, Master," before letting his head drop back dully to the floor again.

I'd had a long, trying day and could make no sense of that statement. "Padawan, I don't understand--"

"Entropy!" he hollered, sitting up so suddenly that two data slates flew into the air. "You know, Master: entropy, disorder, the end of the universe!"

Ah.

Well, I was used to Obi-Wan taking his studies quite seriously, but today he sounded personally offended. By entropy.

"Obi-Wan," I began, pressing my fingers briefly to that spot of tension between my eyebrows, "I need a few minutes to recover from my day before we can discuss this. In the meantime, could you please put all these books back in their--"

"But *Master*, I can't. Putting things in order, keeping them neat... they're just going to keep getting messy, and then I use up more energy to put them back in place, and I generate all this heat and disorder, and it's a vicious, never-ending cycle until one day the universe just runs out of energy and becomes one big, disorganized wasteland."

Obi-Wan gestured emphatically at the spare tunics on the floor as if they proved his point, took an apparently much-needed breath, and launched back into his anguished tirade.

"And even if I don't move or study or think -- even if I just sit around all day doing nothing useful -- even *then* I'm still breathing and metabolizing and adding to the disorder, and I never knew and -- Master, I never knew, and it's all so depressing."

"Obi-Wan--"

"Master, how can the universe just run out like that, just *end* like that? How could I have been pushing it faster toward that destiny without even knowing it?"

It was just like my padawan to bear the weight of all galaxies on his shoulders, to feel responsible for a fate that could never be in his control. And he did so with such sincerity that I could not stand to find him amusing. Instead, I suddenly felt a great need to make things right for him again.

"Padawan," I ventured, "I believe that the Force--"

"The Force! The Force makes no sense!" he interrupted, looking desperate.

"*Padawan*," I started again, clearing several books away to sit down in front of him, "there are things we can do with the Force that can't be explained, but we can do them nonetheless."

I half expected him to interrupt again, but he stayed silent for once, and so I pushed on. "I have also studied the theories you are learning, and I have meditated on the Force. And I -- I don't pretend to understand, but everything I know leads me to believe that there is more to the world than a straight path from order to disorder."

The defeat on his face lifted fractionally, and Obi-Wan frowned a moment in concentration. "The Force... gets in the way?"

"That is an interesting way to put it, Padawan. Yes, perhaps the Force 'gets in the way.'"

Obi-Wan smiled bravely at me, but he still looked so dejected.

I placed a hand in comfort on his shoulder. "Oh, Padawan, every person struggles with this, though not necessarily in these terms -- or with such acute distress," I said gently. "But you will get past it, too."

He sighed. "Yes, Master."

"Obi-Wan, you can hardly sit and waste away to forestall something that will not happen for billions of years anyway."

His eyes widened before he could control his reaction.

"*If* it happens," I corrected.

He stared at the floor for several long moments. I knew he could not have been completely satisfied with my attempted reassurances, but when he lifted his head again, his usual precociously composed demeanor had returned, and his tone of voice was formal.

"Master, I'm sorry about the untidiness. And about overreacting. I know I can get... carried away with new things."

"Don't apologize for enthusiasm, Obi-Wan. It is an admirable quality to have."

That earned a smile, small but genuine.

"But Padawan," I said as sternly as possible, "*please* clean up this Force-forsaken mess."

He scanned my face and knew instantly that I was not angry. He grinned broadly then. "Yes, Master."

"But, what *exactly* does it mean to become one with the Force?"

Master Qui-Gon set his cereal spoon down, finished his mouthful of wheat flakes, and thought over my question. That was one of the things I liked best about my master. He always gave my questions careful consideration, even when he was tired or feeling impatient, or when breakfast had to be getting soggy.

"Well, Padawan," he said after a very long minute, "I'm not entirely sure what else to add, other than that one's essence joins the energy field, probably increasing the strength of the Force but also drawing a new level of strength from the Force in return."

"No, what I mean is, do our particles -- or waves, or whatever we are -- just go off randomly and get mixed up with all the other particles out there?" I didn't like that idea at all.

I think my question reminded Master Qui-Gon about his breakfast because he actually remembered to take another bite of cereal. He still seemed puzzled, though, and I couldn't come up with any other way to put it.

Well, I still had a lot to learn about expressing the harder concepts, but I didn't need any special terminology to ask the real question.

"Master, I guess what I'm trying to figure out is: after we join the Force, would I know you were... you? Would you know me?"

My master looked at me for a second with a sad expression. Then he shook his head once and smiled. "Oh, Obi-Wan, sometimes I wish you would not worry so much about the future. But... I believe we *would* know each other in the Force, perhaps even better than we do now."

"I'm glad for that, Master," I said, knowing I looked very pleased.

Master Qui-Gon smiled again. "I hope you're in no hurry to join the Force, Padawan, for I certainly am not. But I imagine it would be quite wonderful, eventually, for our thoughts to mingle with the thoughts of all the Jedi who have come before."

My gut tightened by surprise and I blurted out like a newly-chosen Padawan, "I don't want to share you with anyone. *I'm* your apprentice."

How was it that my master never made me feel embarrassed -- how was it that he did the opposite -- just at those moments that I was most ready to turn a stupid shade of red?

"I'm gratified you feel so strongly now," he said seriously, "but you will be a knight sooner than you know. And I daresay you will not want me on every adventure then, never mind when we've both joined the Force."

"How could you think that, Master? I would want to stay a team even when I become a knight -- and after," I added.

"We shall see," he started to say, but I think he could tell I wouldn't be convinced. So he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. He looked very thoughtful again. "Of course," he said finally, "I'm not positive how it works. Personally I've always thought we would merge with every being in the Force, but maybe we don't. Maybe we can choose to seek out and share ourselves only with certain others."

"I hope so, Master. And anyway, I would not want Master Yoda to know *everything* I was thinking about all the time."

I wasn't trying to make a joke, but Master Qui-Gon suddenly had a very funny look on his face. He burst out laughing and accidentally hit the end of his spoon, still in the cereal bowl. A ball of soggy flakes flew in an arc and landed in a heap on the table. He laughed even harder after that.

"Padawan, you are wise," he said as he tried to calm down. "May it be as you hope."

"But, Master, the Force is part of the universe, created by things in the universe. So it must *obey* the physical laws of the universe."

I had no real answer for that, and told Obi-Wan so with a slight shake of my head.

"So you agree, then?" he pressed, becoming visibly agitated.

"I suppose," I said -- and immediately knew I shouldn't have.

Obi-Wan suddenly glared at me, and his voice thickened with bitterness. "Then one day the sun of Coruscant will collapse. The universe and *everything* in it -- including the Force -- will end. The Force does *not* get in the way."

He'd taken to challenging me more lately, and generally I enjoyed the animated conversations. This time, though, I felt my anger rise in response to the inexplicable accusation in his tone, and in an instant, I'd had enough.

"Why does this have to be so damned important to you?"

I hadn't expected my voice to be so harsh.

"Because it means *nothing* can ever last!" Obi-Wan shouted back. And then he looked at me, for one unbearable moment, with an expression of grief so complete that I could barely meet his eyes. He turned abruptly and was out the door before I realized I was gasping for air.

I felt, with painful acuity, as if I'd just lost something precious, but no one had bothered to tell me what it was, or that I'd had it to begin with.

"Master--"

"Padawan, wait--"

"Qui-Gon."

"Obi-Wan."

"Yes."

"Qui--oh, yes," was all I could manage.

I shut my eyes, and my world became nothing else except Qui-Gon's mouth surrounding my length, his lower lip dragging along the underside, his tongue doing things that made my stomach twist with desire.

His mouth left me for a second, and I let out an undignified whimper. I heard Qui-Gon's gentle laugh and opened my eyes.

"Yes, watch me," he said, and I thought I could come just from the sound of that voice.

Qui-Gon curled his hand around my shaft and flicked his thumb once across the tip. I shuddered as if he had touched me for the first time. He brought his head forward and made a show of licking the fluid off his thumb. Then he leaned a little closer and slid his tongue across me directly, slowly spreading the gathered fluid.

Satisfied by my shallow breathing that he had my full attention, Qui-Gon again wrapped his lips around me. If slowly sucking all sense of time and space and coherence from me was his goal, then he was succeeding brilliantly.

I willed myself not to grab his hair too tightly, not to pull him onto me too hard. But when I lost control for an instant, pushing myself desperately into that wet mouth, he moaned in the back of his throat, and his hands grabbed my buttocks, urging me harder and deeper into him.

There's always a moment when it's too much. It could be a look, or a word. This time, it was the feel of his fingers, long and beautiful and warm, clutching at me and pulling me closer to him. Farther inside him. Always with him.

I came, and his arms circled around my hips. He held me tightly to him as my body wracked itself with pleasure.

Even if 'forever' is a word that literally has no meaning, I understand why lovers still cling to this ancient delusion.

Qui-Gon let go of me, and I withdrew only a little reluctantly, for the night was far from over. I knelt to face him, pressing my lips to his, and slid my tongue into his warm mouth. The sound he made then would have been my undoing if I hadn't been sated just moments before. As it was, I could already tell my body was catching up with the arousal I felt again.

"Lie back," I said, and waited as patiently as I could while Qui-Gon arranged the sheets and cushions that had tumbled onto the floor. But as soon as everything was in place, all I could do was stare at him, reclined so casually, looking impossibly beautiful to me on shimmering wine-colored sheets far too extravagant for either of us.

I recalled with perfect clarity that peaceful moment when Qui-Gon had turned to me and said, "Maybe we can keep this," before setting those sheets apart from the rest of a pile of lavish gifts unsuitable for Jedi ambassadors.

Perhaps he was sharing my reverie, for Qui-Gon met my eyes and smiled softly at me. We remained silent for another beat, and then he said, "If you wait much longer, the universe will end first."

I threw a cushion directly at his face -- at least he had the good courtesy not to dodge -- and then I straddled him just across his upper thighs and reached down to take his erection in my hands.

"Mmm," he murmured, content to let me lead.

I loved to do this, to watch him, to touch him. I wanted to stay like this forever.

But 'forever' was--

"Qui-Gon, I love touching you."

He moaned and arched into my hands, hard for me, hard because of me.

"Qui, listen to me. I love your body, and I love touching you. Remember this, for the time when I can't tell you myself."

In his place, I would have mindlessly said yes to anything at all. But that was why Qui-Gon was the better man. Even with hands working feverishly on him, he could still disagree with me.

"Always be able... to tell me yourself," he said.

"But I won't always be able to touch you, so it won't mean the same thing."

"...luminous beings...crude matter," he groaned, so close to coming.

I shifted and positioned him beneath me. He must have realized I wasn't prepared and pushed himself up on his arms, to stop me I suppose. But I was ready, and I wanted him, and I slid fully onto him even as he opened his mouth to speak.

His protest came out as an incoherent moan, and I took that moment to pull him against my chest. "Tell me what part of this isn't luminous," I gasped, more from a sudden sense of urgency rather than the feel of him stretching my body.

"Obi-W--Wan..."

"Tell me you wouldn't miss it when we couldn't do this anymore," I insisted.

"...I...would miss..."

I whispered in his ear, "Then remember this -- commit to memory how it feels -- to come inside me."

His body stiffened, then began to tremble. As he spilled heat and fulfillment inside me, he clutched me to his chest so tightly I could not move, could not breathe, did not need or care to breathe.

I was wrong. 'Forever' was not a delusion shared by lovers, but a desperate plea to the Force.

Obi-Wan was right. He was always right. It was ironic of me to remind him to stay in the moment, for his intuition was always far better, far truer than mine.

In the past, I had teased him, had laughed with him, but he was right.

It was not enough time.

The morning sun filtered in gently, as if unwilling, like I was, to disturb his sleep. He was so beautiful, wrapped in the sheets of gray, blue, and deepest green he'd bought for us. They were too luxurious, like the other sheets, and therefore perfect.

Because there was not enough time.

Obi-Wan shifted, and I held my breath, but he did not wake.

Only when he slept did I feel free to let my gaze linger so long. Not that he ever grew self-conscious even under the most intimate scrutiny, but when I looked at him like this, he would look back at me in the same manner.

Sometimes the marvel of that look left me speechless. I would realize anew, with quiet certainty, that he would look at me the same way when I wasn't just older, but old. And that made me ache more.

Force, there isn't enough time.

I used to think him too dramatic. I used to doubt whether our minds could even contemplate the difference between true eternity, which he said didn't exist, and the nearly infinite time we could have in the Force until the universe ended. But he was right, and I understood now, that anything short of forever would not be enough for me.

Obi-Wan stirred, moved closer to me in his sleep, and I found myself staring with fascination at his lips, his lashes, his eyebrows.

Luminous.

He was right about so many things.

"Obi-Wan, please," I begged, but he would have none of it. His hands were everywhere on me, fumbling with my clothes, groping me through the fabric when it took too long to get my tunic off, pulling me to his lips with one hand, reaching down the front of my pants with the other. Fingers curled gently around my shaft, and he moaned into my mouth as he felt me harden in response.

It took everything in me to pull myself away, to hold Obi-Wan back with my palms against his chest.

He stared at me, pupils wide with lust. "No time, Qui-Gon. The transport's coming in a few hours." He wasn't making it easy, standing there gorgeous and breathless, face flushed and lips swollen from kissing.

"The words, Obi-Wan."

"Skip them," he said, and I was tempted to do so.

By agreement borne of necessity, we allowed ourselves to be no more than master and apprentice during assignments. This meant that the hours before every mission were always filled with as much closeness as possible.

Part of me wanted not to spend one more second physically apart before we left Coruscant. But if we wanted to be Jedi, if we wanted to serve as best we could, and if we wanted to return home safely, then we had to strengthen our connection as a team.

I cleared my throat. "The words first, Padawan."

His eyebrows rose slightly, and then he said, "Yes, Master."

Automatically he left for the common room while I adjusted my clothes. Within moments, he returned with the meditation mat and began clearing a space on the floor for it. I couldn't help admiring him. He was visibly flushed with arousal still, but he had a task, however small, and he would see it to completion without hesitation. I suddenly realized he was doing that because *I* had set the task, and an unreasonable, overwhelming tenderness passed through me.

Obi-Wan sat down cross-legged on the mat and placed his hands, palms facing up, on his knees. He looked up expectantly at me when I remained standing in place too long. Slowly I walked over, buying myself more time to will away the ache that lingered inside me. I sat down cross-legged like he, shifted forward a little so that our knees touched, and placed my hands, the palms facing down, over his hands.

Almost immediately I could feel the ritual calming me down, and I relaxed into its familiarity. Obi-Wan, having sat down first this time, represented the earth with hands turned toward the sky. I joined the sky to the earth by sitting across from him and putting my hands on his. Together we imagined what the seas must have looked like to the first travelers, when our homeworld was young.

Serenity and courage welled within me. Uncertainty, loneliness, and anxiety -- all these dissipated. Obi-Wan's expression told me he was experiencing the same thing.

He began the ancient refrain. "Don't set out into the deep, for fear that, perhaps--"

"--losing sight of me, you be left adrift," I continued.

"As we are two, my friend, not one and one--"

"--we go as two, or we will go as none."

The words spoken, it remained for us to sit for as long as we wanted, with our hands pressed together and our thoughts focused on the same goals. My mind cleared, and I felt strength and unity, as if they were tangible things, flow from him to me and back again.

Sometimes when we did this, Obi-Wan and I would stay on the meditation mat for a long time, content just to keep peaceful company with each other. But desire had been temporarily set aside, not satiated, and I became rather overly aware of the heat and texture of his palms, of the sound of his breathing, of the weight of his gaze upon me.

"Obi-Wan."

"Yes, Master."

"I'm finished if you are."

He smiled. "Yes, Qui-Gon."

For several moments I savored the languid way he had said my name, and then it seemed to me that time began to compress. Obi-Wan felt it, too, and suddenly it was a race to see which of us could remove his clothing first. Boots, sashes, pants, tunics were everywhere -- or at least mine were. I had to smile when I saw the neat pile Obi-Wan had made even in his haste, and then I found myself with my back against the mat and Obi-Wan settling down on top of me.

He licked my upper lip once, again, and a third time before drawing my lower lip gently into his mouth. I groaned and then felt his erection press more firmly against mine in response. He braced his hands on either side of me for leverage and began rubbing against me. We were not yet very slick with need, which made the sensation of skin sliding against skin almost a little uncomfortable, yet also unbelievably pleasurable. I heard the sound of age-old desire, a growl, a rumble in the throat; at first I thought it was Obi-Wan, but of course it was me.

Mouth parted slightly, Obi-Wan was gasping now, sliding our lengths together harder and faster, and I decided quite sincerely that friction was the best thing that had ever been discovered. Just then he glanced down, with eyes not dazed with lust but perfectly focused on me. He held me completely still with that look, though I was vaguely aware that our bodies continued to move together.

"Don't set out into the deep," he said. Time slowed painfully, beautifully.

"As we are two, my friend."

"My master."

"My lover..." I whispered, and arched in fiercest pleasure.

"Qui-Gon--" he cried, shuddering against me, mingling with me, collapsing into me.

We slept, entwined, until it was time to depart for Naboo.

Padawan. Oh, Force, the pain.

I knew. Not enough time.

Didn't know. Just how little.

Obi-Wan.

Focus determined reality. That's what my master believed. In a way he was right, for couldn't observation determine the speed or the location of very small particles?

Focus determined reality. That's what I desperately wanted to believe. If I believed, maybe I could have willed my body to pass through the laser doors unharmed instead of having to wait for agonizing moments each time they shut. If I pictured it hard enough, maybe my master would have been prepared for the attack. If I believed that decisions could split the universe in two, then maybe in another reality, one where I hadn't made the mistake of getting separated from him, my master would not have been hurt.

But I knew that was not how things worked, not even for Jedi.

The Force must obey the laws of the universe.

In this universe, I could only hope the Force would obey *me* when the laser door came down. And then -- and *then* -- Force help the Sith lord who took down my master.

"Promise me--"

He left me, and I wept.

I had called him 'Master' to the last, as if I would not be saying goodbye to Qui-Gon that way.

He was still warm in my arms, and I held him gently to me. I tried to imagine him in the Force, wrapped in the beautifully shimmering sheets of the night, waiting for me to join him.

But that could not be right. I knew now that though the Force might be alive, it had no awareness, and it had no will. It would not blanket him in serenity and warmth. It could only *exist*, vast and fathomless, like an endless sea. And like the sea, it would not comfort him or keep him safe if he became lost in it.

"Don't set out into the deep," I said, just in case he could still hear me. "If the Force cannot guide me, I will find you myself. But you--"

My voice trembled, broke, but I could not afford to drown in grief.

"I will find you myself, Qui-Gon, but you must wait for me," I finished.

I pressed my lips to his forehead one last time.

And wept.

I closed my eyes and did not even feel the blade pass through me. Dimly I heard Luke's anguished cry. I ached for him, knowing all too well the pain of losing a master, and was glad I had not been his for long. But there would be more pain, more suffering, if he did not survive the day, and so I bought his escape with my life.

Luke looked back one more time before allowing Leia to lead him back to the celebration. The bonfires raged late into the night, and I stayed to watch. For the first time in a long time, I felt a measure of peace.

And now I had another promise to keep.

When I found Qui-Gon at last, he appeared to me as I always remembered him, the first time we ever made love together.

"Padawan," he said, mouth curving into a smile.

"Master," I answered, forgetting a lifetime of sadness.

I wondered what he thought of me, for I had passed into the Force looking far older than he ever was, and was about to ask him, when he said, "You look just as I always remembered, Obi-Wan."

He reached for me. Hand met hand, but could not truly touch.

"Qui-Gon, I wish..."

"I know."

I turned away for a moment, grief welling and threatening to take me.

But I had found him, and we were together, and he knew everything about me once again. I turned back, smiled, reached for him. "I missed you."

Obi-Wan and I knelt on the ground of a lifeless planet at the edge of the universe. The end-time was near and it would come for us in moments.

Even the Force requires energy.

I should have been grateful -- *was* grateful -- for our time together, wandering the stars. But even now, I did not want to let go, could not bear to lose him.

I felt it. The Force was dying, fading, taking us with it, and I looked at Obi-Wan a final time.

"Don't give in," he whispered, and I was only too glad to share one more goal, one more assignment, with him.

Eyes shut against the long-darkened sky, we spent the last moments imagining a universe teeming with life, and unconstrained by time.

Someone was laughing. *Qui-Gon* was laughing. My eyes flew open.

Sunlight. Grass. A brook. In the distance, a city. People. Transports.

"I don't understand," I said, turning to Qui-Gon. And he -- he was no longer a projection in the Force, but solid, substantial. I reached up to feel my face, and my hand brushed against my Padawan braid.

But I cut that off ages ago. Wait--

He chuckled at my expression and gently prompted, "Think, Obi-Wan, what we did just before the end."

I was still recovering from the shock.

"Would you say we *focused* very hard on something?" he continued.

"Focused?"

He lifted an eyebrow.

Focused?

Oh!

Qui-Gon smiled and reached for me.

I had not thought I would ever again truly feel his hand in mine. Once more, the old sadness came back -- only to leave for good.

"Qui-Gon, you were right after all," I said. "At the very end, the Force *does* get in the way."

"Not the Force, Obi-Wan," he said quietly, and then I understood.

Together we rose.

End.

Don't set out into the deep, for fear that, perhaps,
losing sight of me, you be left adrift.
--Dante, "Verso il cielo"