Focus on the Here and Now

by Laura McEwan

Title: Focus on the Here and Now
Author: Laura McEwan
Pairing: Qui/Obi, NC-17
Disclaimer: These men in this universe? SO not mine. I just like playing with them!
Summary: Some things change, but not all.
Notes: Much thanks to Obi-Ki and Chat Noir for their ability to see what I was trying to say and helping me find the right words to ultimately convey it. Originally published in the Con*Strict '07 zine, so much thanks to Sian for releasing them to be posted.

It had become an exhilarating routine; Qui-Gon would shove Obi-Wan against the nearest wall, rip his trousers down, and impale him. The heady anticipation of combat shot hot, charged adrenaline through them both, and the violent sexual release not only strengthened their personal connection but also sharpened their focus for when the battle began.

Such a battle loomed before them. Obi-Wan pressed himself back against his master as a large, warm, callused hand reached for the cock jutting through the bottom of Obi-Wan's rucked tunic. The fingers stroked roughly, twice, three times. Obi-Wan's head dropped back to Qui-Gon's shoulder as he bit his lip savagely, riding every wicked thrust. Oh, how he loved this brazen act, wanted it, needed it. Qui-Gon knew just how to take him and how to make it good, every time.

Qui-Gon clenched against him, gasping a nearly silent cry of release into his ear. After a few moments, he resumed thrusting clumsily, aiming for that special spot within Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan closed his hand over Qui-Gon's and together they pumped Obi-Wan to completion, before sliding bonelessly to the floor, a tangle of limbs and wrinkled, wrenched fabric.

Red stars behind Obi-Wan's eyes faded as he fought to breathe normally. Qui-Gon lay against him, twisting Obi-Wan's braid between his fingers as if it were a touchstone. Such languid moments were when Obi-Wan felt most attuned with Qui-Gon. They thought in tandem and prepared to act as one.

That day, another thread of awareness made itself known.

"Ready, Padawan?"

"Yes. Master?"

"Yes?"

"Do you feel it?"

Qui-Gon pulled them both to standing and tugged up his trousers before resting one hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. Obi-Wan gently smoothed the tunic across Qui-Gon's broad chest.

"Yes, I do."

Obi-Wan let his hands linger, fingertips absorbing the living human heat through the fabric. He looked deeply into his master's eyes, searching but knowing all the same. "The Force is with us."

"As always, Obi-Wan." He pulled Obi-Wan close and they embraced tightly, heartbeat against heartbeat, breath for breath.

One last kiss, and towards the red danger they marched, focused, attentive, one.

The destruction of the Jedi was nearly complete while Darth Vader lived on and grew in his power. Anakin's infant daughter Leia lay safely in Bail's arms and her twin brother Luke found sanctuary in Beru's. His task done, Obi-Wan - now Ben - retreated into an unexpected and lonely life among the dunes of Anakin's Tatooine.

The simple statement of "barren" didn't even begin to describe the vast landscape perpetually visible to him no matter which way he turned. Endless dunes rippled across the landscape to curve out of view beyond the horizon, and one needed to know just which dunes led to one's home or the nearest outpost, lest he become lost, as signs were few and far between. The waves of sand reminded him faintly of rucked-up tunics, and stirred a memory from forever ago.

Emptiness might have governed Ben's hot, miserable days, but the dreams on one shivering cold night, after the boy Luke had turned three years old, led him back in time.

He dreamed of vibrant, living colors: red, blue, green, three strands. Red felt of anger and disappointment; blue of worry; and green, love. Within his dream Ben knew this and accepted their significance without question, following the colored paths through the timeline of his life. He watched as the shades weaved themselves together, fading and intensifying in their hues as events occurred, looping over and under, loosely, tightly, and finally fusing together at the end of a life, but not his.

A braid. The end of a life.

But not his.

Ben awoke with a start, his breath puffing out in a white cloud in the moonlit darkness. His hand reached for a braid that no longer lay across his shoulder even as his heart reached for a man who was no more.

Mourning tears fell hot and fast, the wrenching grief that Obi-Wan had never truly allowed himself instead flowed out of Ben, loud and long. Qui-Gon had been all he'd ever truly had, and in one knowing moment, the man was gone.

The small chest at the foot of Ben's cot held his few possessions. Twisting his hand into familiar fabric, he threw it around himself as he stumbled through his door and into the darkness, away from his hovel and into the vastness of the nighttime Tatooine desert.

A yellow slice of moon hung heavily among familiar constellations.

Meditation.

He felt the word more than he thought it, felt it as he felt the turn of the planet, its promise of peace enveloping him like a warm cloak. Ben pulled his tangible cloak more tightly about him, crossed his legs, turned his face to the light, and closed his eyes.

The moon began to descend. The dunes grew in shadowed lengths until they reached their horizons, surrounding Ben in his oblivion.

A presence built and grew near him, a blue aura seen behind his closed lids, invisible when he opened them.

Closing them again, he concentrated as a form coalesced in pulses.

A beloved face with knowing, loving eyes.

"Master..." Ben breathed.

The face smiled, and faded away.

He awoke shivering.

A dream, he thought. I fell asleep and dreamt him.

He stumbled through the door and collapsed onto his cot, as exhausted as if he'd run across miles of dunes. Somewhere in the bleariness of his mind, Ben thought that he shouldn't be this tired after meditation and sleep.

He curled to face the wall, the long cloak tangling with his legs.

Not a dream... he thought he heard whispered in his ear as he balanced on the precipice between the world and oblivion.

Oblivion claimed him.

Ben woke up angry. Uncharacteristically, he allowed himself to wallow in it, cursing at the walls and slamming the teakettle.

He didn't want to examine his anger, suddenly needing the experience of feeling it.

The day wore on. The suns shone hot, crisping the end of his patience until it finally fired up and burned.

"Why did you leave me?" he shouted. "Why?"

He threw the old cloak into the trunk. "I loved you. Loved you."

I love you, too.

Ben whirled around, but as expected, he found no one. He collapsed onto the cot, half-laughing at himself.

"I've gone round the bend. Hearing voices. Oh, Qui-Gon..." He dropped his head wearily into his hands.

Meditate, my Obi-Wan.

A gentle remonstration, lovingly familiar from padawan years long gone. Ben wasn't sure if memory played with him, or if he were being subtly led, but he found himself wrapped in the old cloak once again, kneeling in the shade of a dune, watching the suns set.

The familiar restiveness came quickly, and his inner self flew along the brilliant braid from his dream, reaching the end abruptly. Pain welled, despair and hopelessness suffusing his meditative self - and then the green end of the braid rose. It wavered before him, beckoning...

His eyes flew open and adjusted for the darkness that now surrounded him. "Master?" he whispered, feeling slightly foolish.

"I am here."

Ben leapt to his feet, searching around him. "Where?"

"Everywhere. Here."

Ben laughed cautiously. "This can't be."

"Why not?"

The question was delivered in a far too familiar way for Ben to doubt his sanity.

"Qui-Gon? Are you really here, or have I become delusional, my mind is going the way of the sand - dry and burnt?"

"What does your heart tell you, Obi-Wan?"

Ben swallowed dryly, gulped to catch a breath.

"I've not heard that name in a very long while." He reached out with both hands, like a blind man feeling his way. "I-I can't touch you."

"You haven't tried."

He let his arms fall.

He set his jaw. "I don't want to feel like a fool."

"Why would you?"

Ben waited a long time before answering. The stars overhead had shifted before he finally admitted his fear.

"Anakin." He prayed Qui-Gon hadn't left him.

"Obi-Wan. Anakin made his own choices, and he would have no matter what you might have done differently."

"I let you down."

"You didn't."

Another long silence fell between them, Ben vaguely sensing that Qui-Gon had moved close behind him.

"Again, my padawan, you haven't even tried."

Ben turned, vainly examining empty air. "I can't see you, either."

"Try."

Ben laughed weakly. "My mind may be going, but my eyes haven't quite failed me yet, Master. You're not here."

A beat. Two. "Think back, Padawan. Forget what you can or cannot see, what you can or cannot touch. What does your heart tell you?"

The last wavering bit of resolve melted within him and he closed his eyes as if to hinder any tears. He broke off from searching where he thought Qui-Gon should be, and valiantly took one step backwards into a warm, brown space. Invisible arms tenderly pulled him close, a heart that could not possibly beat thumped loudly against Ben's ear as he turned his cheek into familiar and long-lost warmth. The body behind him was resistant to pressure, but soft and yielding like a pillow, not quite like the solid mass of man he'd once known, but real and substantial, nonetheless.

"Oh." It fell from his mouth with the holy sound of benediction. "Master."

"Padawan." Tenderly.

"Don't let go."

"I won't. Not until you're ready. We have much work to do."

"How much time do we have?" Ben asked, his voice catching.

The arms tightened around him. "At this moment? We have all the time in the world."

~end