It's Not Indigestion

by Crystalwren (crystalwren@yahoo.co.uk)

Archive: Ask nicely and it's all yours

Rating: P bloody G

Warnings: This story is unsuitable for diabetics. It contains copious amounts of sugar. Actually, I'm quite disgusted with myself. I hate nice. I despise it. So Why did I write it? <sigh> Also, this is the first Stars Wars TPM fic I've ever written, so if it is a bit rough, please forgive me.

Spoilers: zip

Feedback: Must I beg?

Disclaimers: If I owned these characters I'd be rich like George Lucas.

Thanks to Rachel and Joan Wallace for the betas.

Written for Ruth Gifford's one line challenge: "It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside."

"It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside," said Obi-Wan Kenobi to Qui-Gon Jinn one day. "It is sort of a mushy, happy nervous feeling. It is most odd."

"Mwah," said Qui-Gon in response. He was taking advantage of a rare break in their busy lives to indulge his bad habit of reading rubbishy mystery novels, lying on the lounge with his long legs dangling over the side.

Obi-Wan was aimlessly staring out the window, leaning on the sill and looking out into the blue sky. "I mean," Obi-Wan continued, "I appear to be swinging from ecstatic to black depression every minute or so. I am unaccountably tense."

"Mmph?" asked Qui-Gon, not looking up.

"My stomach is clenched. I can barely eat. My heart burns."

"Ahhh," said Qui-Gon. He turned the page.

"Master?"

"Mmm?"

"What do you think is wrong with me?"

Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "Indigestion, perhaps?" He suggested, marking the place he was up too with one, long finger. "Maybe you should visit the infirmary."

"No, Master. I do not think so. I have had indigestion before; it is a complaint stemming from the body. My symptoms appear to be a result of mental discomfort."

"Unh," said Qui-Gon, loosing interest. "You should be meditating more." He returned to his book.

"I have meditated at length, Master," said Obi-Wan. He turned away from the window and looked at Qui-Gon, his blue eyes earnest. "But I still cannot determine what my ailment is."

"Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon sternly, "a Jedi must first and foremost know his own mind. If you do not, then you will make a very poor Jedi."

"I know that Master, but my meditations on the Force tell me that there is nothing there to be alarmed. Indeed, the Force actually seems to resonate with this feeling."

"Really?" murmured Qui-Gon. "How odd." He flicked a glance up at his Padawan, who was regarding him closely. "Well then, Obi-Wan, there does not appear to be anything to worry about. But I cannot think what might be wrong with you." He grinned. "In fact, the only thing that I can think of that matches your symptoms is love, ha ha, and I doubt that you are suffering from that!" Qui-Gon paused. "Are you?"

Obi-Wan froze as the implications of that crossed his mind. "Why, Master," he said slowly. "I do believe you right."

"Why Padawan, that's wonderful!" exclaimed Qui-Gon. He closed his book with a snap and leapt to his feet.

"Is it?" asked Obi-Wan doubtfully. "It is a most unsettling sensation. It is not unpleasant, but I find it difficult to live with."

"Nonsense, Obi-Wan!" said Qui-Gon briskly, rubbing his hands together. "To be in love is a wonderful thing. In your case, it means you are growing up."

"Master, I'm twenty-one years old! I don't see how much further I have to grow up!"

Qui-Gon dismissed that with a wave of his hand. "You have a lot of growing up to do yet. Now," he said, "who are you in love with?"

"Um," Obi-Wan looked frantically around the room, "um."

"Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon, waving an admonishing finger, "out with it."

"Master, I have no idea!"

Qui-Gon stared at him. "You mean you are in love and you have no idea who with?" he asked incredulously.

Obi-Wan nodded miserably.

"Pah!" exclaimed Qui-Gon in disgust. He collapsed back onto the lounge. "That's impossible!"

"Nevertheless, the feeling persists. What can be wrong with me?"

"Indigestion," said Qui-Gon sourly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get back to my book."

There was a long silence, filled only by the rustling of paper as Qui-Gon turned a page. After a while he looked up. Obi-Wan was still standing there, with an utterly pathetic expression on his face. Qui-Gon sighed. "Come here Padawan," he said. Obi-Wan went and knelt by the lounge, and rested his head on Qui-Gon's chest. Qui-Gon ran his hand over his apprentice's spiky haircut.

"Am I truly so pathetic?" asked Obi-Wan. Huge tears filled his eyes. He looked so cute and pitiful he was near irresistible. Qui-Gon was overcome by a sudden urge to kiss him, an urge that he carefully suppressed.

"No, Obi-Wan, you are not pathetic. I just find it odd that you can announce that you are in love yet not know who with."

"Oh." Obi-Wan rubbed his cheek against the coarse fabric of his Master's tunic. "Why do you think I am feeling this way?"

Qui-Gon rubbed his face with his spare hand. The other went on stroking his Padawan. "I do believe your feelings are genuine, Obi-Wan," he said. "I think that your subconscious knows that you are in love, and seeks to inform your conscious mind of that fact. It is trying so hard to tell you of your feelings that it is omitting to tell you why you are feeling them."

"But Master," Obi-Wan pulled away and rocked back on his heels and looked at Qui-Gon. "Surely this would have become apparent during my meditations."

"I should think it was fairly obvious," said Qui-Gon dryly as he sat up. "You've made exactly the same mistake on both levels of your mind, waking and sleeping. You've spent all your time concentrations on what rather than why."

"Oh," said Obi-Wan again, studying the carpet under his knees carefully. "Maybe I should go and meditate now."

"Maybe, but we can try something else first." Qui-Gon leaned forward, his blue eyes intense. "Obi-Wan, close your eyes. No, don't argue with me. Just do it." Obi-Wan frowned, but he obeyed. "Now, think of love." The tiny line between Obi-Wan's eyes disappeared as a dopey smile spread across his face. "Tell me of the first image that came into your mind."

"I see..." Obi-Wan heaved a huge, happy sigh. "I see long, smooth brown hair with the softness of silk."

"Good, good!" congratulated Qui-Gon. "An excellent start! What else?"

"Long, long legs. Strong hands. Calm voice."

"What else?"

Obi-Wan paused. "I don't know. The rest fades as soon as I look at it. It's like I don't want to see..."

Qui-Gon scratched his beard thoughtfully. "This may be a problem."

Obi-Wan nodded miserably. "How can I want to know whom I love and not want to know at the same time?" "Sheer perversity?" muttered Qui-Gon, ducking the glare his apprentice shot him. "Padawan, is it possible that deep down you feel that your love will not be returned?"

Obi-Wan licked his lips nervously. "Y-yes?" he said uncertainly.

"Stuff and nonsense!" declared Qui-Gon. "No right-minded being would refuse your love!"

"Do you really think so?" asked Obi-Wan tremulously.

"Yes!" said Qui-Gon firmly. "If they do not, I would seek to learn why myself."

Obi-Wan smiled tremulously. "Thank you, Master." He met Qui-Gon's eyes, and they stared at each other.

"Ahem!" Qui-Gon looked away finally. He was glad of his beard, because he could feel his cheeks blushing. "So can you think of anything else?"

"Graceful, sure moves. Whoever it is, I am close to them. I trust them." Obi-Wan titled his head to stare at the ceiling. Qui-Gon took the opportunity to study his Padawan's beautiful, graceful throat. "I have fought with them. I have known them for a very, very long time." Suddenly, Obi-Wan stiffened and turned white. He leapt to his feet and stared wildly at a point just above Qui-Gon's head.

"Obi-Wan? Are you all right?" Qui-Gon stood up and reached out to touch the younger man. He flinched away, wrapping his arms around himself and turning his back to Qui-Gon.

"I know who it is," he said hoarsely.

"That's good, Obi-Wan. It is good," said Qui-Gon in a soothing voice. "Now, tell me who she is, and whatever the problem is we can find some way to fix it."

Obi-Wan's head snapped up, and he stared at Qui-Gon. "She?" It's not a she, Qui-Gon."

"A man then? What's the problem with that?"

Obi-Wan just gazed at him in silence. Comprehension finally began to dawn on Qui-Gon.

"Obi-Wan..." he trailed off. Obi-Wan took two decisive steps towards Qui-Gon and dropped to his knees, throwing his arms around his waist. He looked up, his eyes shimmering with tears and hope.

"Master," he breathed.

"Obi-Wan," breathed Qui-Gon wonderingly. He reached down, and ever so gently touched the boy's face with a hand that shook. "My Obi-Wan."

THE END