Warning: The following story contains images of a m/m
relationship. STOP if you find it offensive.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to George Lucas. He's the one
making the profit, not me for I am not a Ferengi.
Author: Ki
Pairing: Qui/Obi
Archive: M_A archive only. (Please ask me first if you want to
put this in other archives)
Categories: angst.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Inspired by a drive down a stretch of abandoned land
covered with the most beautiful golden-topped weeds. This is a
short story, non-Watcher and unrelated to all the rest of my
alternative universes.
This is an a/u.
I traveled alone in the light drizzle. My hair was coated with
drops of rainwater. So was my light-brown robe, now stained a
deeper shade. The path was covered with a thick layer of mud
and I found walking an ordeal.
The sky was a dull grey. There wasn't a hint of blue sky behind
the heavy cover of cloud. Even the native birds had taken
shelter. I was left alone on the path.
For a moment, I stood gazing at my surroundings. It was quiet
with an undercurrent of soft rustling sounds and the whisper of
the drizzle. A hint of a sweet fragrance reached my nose: oddly
refreshing, like the scent of freshly picked sun-jasmine
flowers. The fragrance came from the yellow-golden weeds.
I paused in my tracks and stared. The yellow-golden weeds grew
profusely so much that they covered the entire field in a lush
carpet. As the wind blew, the heavy tops rustled like the pelt
of some great animal. The Force was a gentle pulsating rhythm
here and for a while, I drew comfort and strength from the
field of gold, breathing deeply and gazing at the waving
stalks. They moved hypnotically, swaying in the wind.
It was a beautiful sight. It was so rare now to see an entire
stretch of land covered with golden flowers. It was ironic,
more so because these were weeds. Weeds. Forgotten plants,
struggling to grow beside accepted ones. I hated pulling out
weeds for they were justified to live, to co-exist with other
plants.
Weeds.
I chuckled to myself, not because I was amused. But because I
was bitter and angry.
I stopped, heart constricting. Such bitterness seemed odd with
the simple beauty of the golden field. My anger spoilt its
innocence, tarnished its purity.
Why was I feeling this way?
Because he left me for another man? A younger, more willing
man?
Because I was a weed, simply tossed aside by an uncaring
individual.
This uncaring individual had once professed his love for me.
Held my hands, kissed them as if to seal his passion on them. I
was touched...drunk by his confession. As he placed his lips on
my wrist, I swore that I would follow him.
Forever.
Like a weed, I was pliant under his hands. He stirred me like a
fire in summer. I was young and naïve, drinking in his
honey-coated words like some sun-struck fool. He was my
teacher, my parent, my mentor. Someone I looked up to. He
taught me many things.
Many things indeed.
One such thing was the way of physical love. And I hated the
fact that I melted in his arms like some besotted idiot. I let
him trail his tongue over me, let him lick every corner of my
body. How could I be so silly, so stupid?
A plaintive cry of some native creature broke the silence. I
realized that the drizzle had worsened to a steady downpour. My
face streamed with rivulets of rain. I couldn't care less.
Instead, I turned my face to the onslaught of water.
I could tell that he enjoyed watching me squirm under his
touch. He loved to slip his moistened finger into me and listen
to my cries of pleasure and delight. Sometimes, when the nights
were cold, he would cuddle and enter me from behind. It hurt at
first. I was only very young but I let him. My body had
trembled with illicit joy. Now, I felt soiled, unclean.
Suddenly, the sight of the field of gold hurt. It twisted a
knife into my guts. With a cry, I took out my 'saber and it
ignited with a blazing blue.
Bits of golden stalk floated around me. I continued to slash
blindly, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. I cursed and
cursed, giving full vent to the anger I had kept inside for a
long time.
He left me for a young blonde-haired blue-eyed man. Made him
apprentice. I was left in the cold.
The blonde-haired man would suffer the same fate like me. He
would be tossed aside.
I was once an apprentice, someone who was proud of his own
talents. Now, I was no one in this world. Alone. Empty. Useless
as the ravaged stalks around me.
I began to smile, even as the 'saber died in my hands. Rain had
obscured the field of gold.
A fallen stalk lay across my boots and I bent down, picking it
up. I twirled it slowly in my hand, looking at the fluffy
golden top.
Then, I threw it away, crushing it under my boot-heel.
Qui-Gon Jinn had underestimated me. He thought that I was only
simple Obi-Wan, the pride of the Jedi Temple. He had used and
thrown me aside. I was spineless then. Weak and foolish enough
to believe a threat, a reprimand, a withdrawal of reward.
I began to trek back to the Infiltrator. I did not look back at
the field of gold, at the broken stalks bereft of life.
Archive 