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Archive: yes, please!
Category: angst. Not a happy fic.
Warnings: EpII, though no major spoilers (just a line). Master says it needs a hanky alert. So there's the hanky alert [grins]
Rating: geez, I dunno. Call it PG-13.
Summary: Obi-Wan realizes a truth.
Feedback: yes, please!
Thanks to Master Rose for her support and beta, and willingness to be spoiled [grins]
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"Dreams fade in time," Obi-Wan said, hoping the sadness he felt wasn't totally evident in his tone.
It had been ten years since Qui-Gon died. Ten long years, with nothing but dreams and memories keeping his Master alive. Only in his sleep was his Master still at his side.
But the dreams had begun to fade. Slowly at first, with small things, but then it became more. It started with not being able to remember his touch exactly. Or the way he smelled. Then the sound of his voice had to be replayed from a journal entry for Obi-Wan to get it quite right in his mind's ear. After ten years, Obi-Wan had to look at a picture to remember exactly what his lover looked like.
Dreams did fade in time, and they left the dreamer alone.
The one dream he clung to, the only one he meditated on in order to keep it fresh in his mind was the memory of the first time he and Qui-Gon had come together as lovers. Only within that dream, that memory, was Obi-Wan fully able to remember his lost partner, the man that he had cherished more than his own life. For ten long years, he had remained alone with the memory of his lover, his soulmate, his Master.
That night had been sweet and romantic, the tender intimacy of first time lovers. It was their first time together, but it had none of the awkwardness of a first encounter. Obi-Wan had returned from a week long Padawan retreat to candle-lit quarters and a meal of finger foods set up on the low table in the common room.
Qui-Gon had greeted Obi-Wan at the door, divesting his tired Padawan of robe and travel bag, sending him with a soft push toward the fresher to clean up. When Obi-Wan had emerged clean and dressed in the clothes that had awaited him, he had found Qui-Gon kneeling at the table waiting for him with two small glasses of wine and an air of nervousness.
Obi-Wan listened intently as Qui-Gon confessed not only his love, but his desire for his Padawan, and the man his Padawan had grown into. Rather than responding in words, Obi-Wan had kissed Qui-Gon gently, then more insistently as Qui-Gon responded. Tongues explored mouths, hands explored hairlines, and then the candles were extinguished and the bedroom was found, food and wine abandoned for the time being.
They had spent considerable time exploring each other's bodies, finding scars, learning what touches elicited purrs, and which produced drawn out moans of pleasure. Hands, tongues, lips where everywhere.
And long after their bodies had stilled, and Obi-Wan found himself embraced in those arms against that warm body, did he echo the words that Qui-Gon had first spoken
"I love you."
Fifteen years after that day, ten years since his Master had gone and left him alone, it was all Obi-Wan could do to remember.
The dreams would fade, as he had told his Padawan. His had, and he was alone again.