Archive: MA, please. Others (if others there are) with
permission.
Category: Drama
Rating: G... faint shades of Q/O
Warnings: Not really; any impressions of O/A not intended
Spoilers: Post-TPM and Everything In It
Summary: Not long after Naboo, someone consoles Obi-Wan.
Disclaimer: Don't worry, I won't be getting money for this and
the guys are George's.
Feedback: I'm a posting virgin, but constructive criticism of
the non-Fahrenheit 451 variety is honestly welcome.
Thanks to Lenya for the beta and all the polite smiles and
nods. (Frisky, indeed) :)
The quarters were silent when he came in, but there was a storm
casting about outside.
The sky over the Khomi District was empty. Empty. The
lightening forced traffic to migrate upward. Or downward.
Either way, the waspy vessels stayed well out of sight, an
ethereal thing. A peaceful thing, despite the tantrum of nature
scratching at the balcony doors.
The boy took a moment to lose himself in the scene, running his
fingers absently along the hilt of the lightsaber he held. The
coolness reminded him of purpose and he turned from the rain, a
vision that had captivated him since he had arrived from his
desert homeworld.
The door to his master's quarters was closed, but he knew
without a doubt that the sparse little room was where he would
find the Knight. He knocked.
"Yes?"
His master's voice was measured, calm, though muffled. He had
never heard it otherwise.
"May I come in, Master?"
There was a pause. "Of course, Anakin."
The door slid open under his hand.
His master sat on the bed in his dark robe, gazing heavily out
the small window, into the rain. The light coming in was too
little and the bed was too big.
"Master?" Anakin spoke quietly.
"What can I help you with, Padawan?" He did not turn. His voice
was from elsewhere.
The boy forgot whatever purpose had brought him there and
approached his master, looking at the man and not the downpour.
"It's raining really hard." The apprentice whispered.
"Yes." The Jedi returned in kind.
Anakin did not speak.
Inexplicably, he touched his master's hair.
It was something he had never done before, never thought of
doing; he didn't know why he did it then. The backs of his
fingers trailed lightly over growing locks that had the nuanced
color of polished woodwork. The caress continued gracefully
past the temple and down the slope of the scalp, ending with a
firm clasp upon the nape of the neck.
It was mature contact that would come from an affectionate
elder, from one who counseled. But somehow, there was no
awkwardness.
Slightly entranced, Anakin did not see his master's weighted
gaze turn to him, now wide with apparent wonder, or hear his
name spoken in strange, hopeful hesitance.
But he did feel the hand that rested suddenly upon his, not
forcing it to move, but capturing his attention.
"Anakin..."
The boy's eyes widened with realization. An apology formed, but
hadn't a chance to materialize.
"It's all right, Anakin."
He made to pull his hand away, but Obi-Wan held it and brought
it down to his lap. Anakin sat.
Now his master's attention was fully with him, and after a
moment the young knight asked, "What can I help you with?"
"Where did you get that rock?" He hadn't noticed until he'd
said the words that Obi-Wan was cradling a smooth, imperfectly
shaped rock in his other hand.
There was no response for a moment, but when his master spoke,
it was with more gentleness than he had thought the modulated
voice could express.
"It was a gift."
The knight began to tell the story, a soft smile of reminisce
coming to his lips as he spoke. Touched by an invisible hand,
the lamp on the round little table next to him came to life and
spread a low, warm light over the room.
Each of the pair quite naturally assumed it had been the work
of the other.
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