Like So Much Dust

by Author Dr Squidlove ( drsquidlove@virginqueen.com )

Summary: After the death of his lover, Qui-Gon tries to imagine how he could ever live alone.
Non Q/O (and Q/O), Angst.
Rated R for sex.

This is non-JA. It was born out of an 'alternative backgrounds for Qui-Gon' thread on MA, where we wondered about previous padawans he might have had, if any.

The Phantom Menace universe and all its characters belong to Lucasfilm. I use them without intent to profit.

Thank you to Christy, for a very helpful beta. Kudos to MJ, for endless courage in the pursuit of titles. Poor thing got more rejections in one night than anyone should really face.

Feedback always appreciated. drsquidlove@virginqueen.com

Voices filtered down, muffled from a nearby corridor, but here there was blessed silence. Occupants of the adjoining rooms were out, on missions and errands.

Qui-Gon sat umoving on the edge of the bed. Strange, that he craved silence, when quiet was the very thing that ached in his ribs.

He had been sitting here, desperately grateful to be alone, for... a long time. A night, perhaps. Nothing in this room marked the passage of time. No windows compared the bright sunlight with the pale Coruscant night, no clocks measured what a Jedi felt, instinctively. If he cared, for instinct.

In the corner nearest the doorway there were two sets of spare boots, worn but clean, the dark his own, the pale slightly smaller. Above them hung a cloak, alone from a pair of hooks.

The intrusion was expected, if soon. Reniius waited in the corridor to be acknowledged; when she was not, she stepped over the threshold anyway. "I have bad news."

"I know."

He sensed the dip of her head, and a moment later she moved to settle beside him. Not touching, never assuming that, but it was companionship, because she had cared for him too.

She hadn't come to tell him. No messenger was needed to break the news that Qui-Gon's breath for thirty years was gone, winded out of him in a blow. And six years before that, even, since Kyanara chose Qui-Gon from the creche, the man had been the centre of his life. Gone, like so much dust.

Cold metal was laid in his hands, and Qui-Gon started at the warmth of it, his fingers closing around the familiar hilt. Brushed metal and smooth black ridges. This saber had taught him every defence move he knew, had protected his back in countless battles, had laid in its cradle within reach as he slept in protecting arms.

"This was recovered from the rubble."

Rubble. An explosion, then, or a building collapsed. He didn't have the energy to ask, not yet. It was a place Qui-Gon would never visit, a cause that was not theirs, and for a moment Qui-Gon hated to be a Jedi. Only for a moment.

Kyanara had laid this hilt in his hands when he was a boy, let him feel the weight and explore it with his child's fingers, distracting him as the master - brown hair cropped short, plexiglass goggles to protect his eyes from the harsh Coruscant light, lean and soft-spoken: a near-stranger then, impossible to imagine - knelt beside him and asked if he might braid Qui-Gon's hair. In his fascination with the saber, it had been a moment before he understood what was being offered.

Years later, Qui-Gon had held the same memory close as he watched Kyanara aligning the green blade, and when it was done he sat beside him, taking the hilt from his master's hands once more to ask if they might explore the bond that waited between them. He'd still been holding it as they kissed.

From simple beginnings, training had become partner bond. Somewhere along the way - long after Qui-Gon's padawan braid was cut - they became equals.

In almost forty years, Qui-Gon had never been separated from Kyanara for more than a few weeks, their occasional missions apart always a warm reminder of how good they were together, how complete.

Now incomplete.

All missions would be taken on his own, now. Every lone mission would bring him back to this silent room.

"I'm near fifty years old, Reniius, and I have never been alone. I built myself on him. I don't know how to begin."

The bed tipped, as she shifted. "You don't need to be alone. This temple is full of people who care for you."

Two pairs of boots by the door, side by side and as familiar as his own hands, his lover's face. Tonight Qui-Gon would undress and there would be three pairs. One set odd. "He was my master, my love, my lifetime best friend. Do you imagine another lover could ever fill what he left?"

"There are other kinds of companionship," she chided, in her soft voice.

In the quiet, Qui-Gon thought of his friends, some his own, some Kyanara's, though they'd long forgotten to distinguish something so unimportant. People like Reniius, whom they had joined for rousing dinners, for rare team missions, for wider friendship. He loved them all, but it was so shallow, so nothing beside the simple knowing he had shared with Kyanara.

Qui-Gon lay on the bed in nothing but leggings, as Kyanara dimmed the lights and peeled away his goggles. His face was soft without them, open and wondrously expressive, and now looking down with such desire. Qui-Gon blushed, amazed that his master could look at him this way.

"I can't imagine that anyone would look at you any other way." Kyanara sat on the edge of the bed and laid his hand on Qui-Gon's chest, heavy and hot.

Qui-Gon shook his head, leaning into the touch to take a kiss. "Only you. No one has ever seen me this way. No one else ever will."

Eyes darkened, and Qui-Gon thrilled at the possessiveness as Kyanara crawled over him, sealing their mouths with a bruising kiss.

Qui-Gon was sorting through messages when hands touched his head and settled in to rub. "Ah."

"I love your hair long."

"It's too long. Impractical. I should go back to the cut I had when I was a padawan."

"Don't dare." Soft tugs pulled his head back, stretching his neck for a deep, slow kiss. "It's beautiful." A final touch of lips and then those blessed fingers went back to rubbing his scalp. "Anything of interest?"

"Mmm. One from Reniius. Lelbet is taking his trials next week. I told you it would be soon. Renii was born to teach, I always knew it, since we were in the creche."

A moment of still. "I'm sorry."

Qui-Gon stiffened, turned awkwardly in his chair to offer a confused smile. "What for?"

"Do you think I don't know?"

Qui-Gon slumped, somehow surprised. Of course he knew.

He was gathered back against Kyanara's belly, soft and warm. "Some days, Qui-Gon, I wish I had pushed you to wait, to live your own life first. I should have liked to meet a padawan of yours."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, and pressed closer. He would have liked that meeting, too. Yes, he would have loved to train an apprentice, but he wasn't going to regret giving that up in favour of this partner bond. "I would not trade these last twenty years with you for any padawan. Or the next twenty."

"Your hair is turning white," Qui-Gon observed.

"And you are turning grey."

"Never."

Kyanara's lip curled, and Qui-Gon could see mischief through the goggles. "You are growing old. You are already as old as I was when I was seduced by my beautiful apprentice."

Qui-Gon's eyes widened. "So I am. The years are racing past."

"Still my padawan."

Blood poured to Qui-Gon's shaft at the word, and he kneeled at his lover's feet. "Always your padawan, master."

Just a glance for instruction, and Qui-Gon was opening Kyanara's leggings when hands tangled in his hair and a soft voice touched his ear. "Make me hard and wet, lover. I'm going to fill you."

The children had organised themselves in a game, dashing about the sunlit courtyard in a system too complicated to understand from the sidelines, but it was fresh air after the weight of mourning in the memorial service. Ten minutes here, the sun dropping warmly on his cold skin, and not yet a single glance of concern.

He had forgotten the comfort of children. He used to visit often, sometimes wishing. It was the only wish that Qui-Gon had given up for a lifetime of Kyanara, a trivial regret for all that he gained.

Laughter filled the courtyard, filling him with unexpected peace. Reniius was correct. There were other kinds of companionship. Perhaps his path now was meant to be walked with a padawan of his own.

Time first, to let the wound heal, to befriend the children, and then he might choose one to care for.

An Iktochi girl had taken charge, the others deferring to her to settle disputes over lines and turns. She gestured in offer to a dark-haired human boy slouching in the corner, but he waved her away, pulling into himself.

The children suddenly ran in a swarm to the other side; a small Calamarian boy tripped but a stronger hand was there to catch his wrist before he fell, its owner laughing as they dashed against the wall. Him.

He knew it with certainty.

The older boy felt his attention and faced him, smiling, his red-gold hair damp with sweat. "Would you like to play, Master?" he called. The other children looked over and waited, expectantly.

"You all play far too fast for my old bones. Go on and let me watch."

The game resumed, and Qui-Gon was spellbound that something so important could be so simple. He'd only wanted to enjoy the sunshine and the youthful joy.

But that was the one.

"Come in."

Obi-Wan hesitated a moment longer in the corridor, and then stepped inside, swinging his bag nervously in one hand, cloak draped over the other. He gazed about, eyes wide.

He hadn't seemed sure what to make of Qui-Gon's sudden attention, and the confidence he'd had among his friends had disappeared, leaving Qui-Gon less than certain himself. Less than certain that it had been a wise decision to try to fill the hole Kyanara left with a child. Certainty mattered little: the choice had been made.

There were two beds now, one above the other, and it had been a long time since that was necessary. He had needed to rearrange the furniture, and more had gone than the large bed. The shelves were only half-full, though what was left was equal parts his own and Kyanara's. If there had ever been a difference.

"The top bed will be yours, and this closet." The closet had been Kyanara's, his lean body to Qui-Gon's broad had made for the only true division in what they owned, their clothes by size.

The boy placed his bag by the closet, never ceasing his inspection of the room. He stopped at the sketch of Qui-Gon and Kyanara, their cheeks pressed close, their smiles content. "Who is this?"

My everything.

"I'm sorry." Obi-Wan looked over at his silence, and his face fell, crushed. "Is it your partner? I heard that he died."

"Yes. It is, and he did."

Obi-Wan looked back at the picture, relieved at Qui-Gon's gentle response, but still uncomfortable. "He looks happy."

Qui-Gon nodded, nothing wise to say but the boy was waiting for something to release him from his awkwardness. "Why don't you take a shower, and then we can set off in search of a meal?"

An instant smile, and he dipped into his bag. Qui-Gon could only watch as he tugged out underclothes, and sat on the floor to unbuckle his boots. A quick look around, then he crossed the room to set them neatly by Qui-Gon's, dropping his cloak over the bare hook before disappearing into the wash cubicle.

"Master."

"I am sorry, Obi-Wan, I did not hear you."

Obi-Wan was twisted in his chair, and his lip curled, just slightly. "I asked if you wanted to read the communication from the Calamarian minister on their recovery. It's interesting. They've been quite... creative." He trailed off, sorrow in his gaze.

"Perhaps later. Copy it to my files."

A blinking stare, and then Obi-Wan lifted himself from the commset and came close, to pull Qui-Gon into a hug. Qui-Gon buried his nose in Obi-Wan's soft hair, clean and like silk against his cheek.

"You grow sadder every year."

"Only at this time. It seems only fair, since the rest of the year I grow happier."

Obi-Wan pulled back far enough to meet his gaze, eyes serious, and fingers twined around a lock of hair, pulling gently. "You know why."

"Because I have a padawan who is the light of my life." Qui-Gon kissed the offered brow and loosened his arms, but Obi-Wan would not let go.

"Because you love me."

Please don't say it.

"You love me."

"Not like I did him." As though if he said it gently enough, Obi-Wan would let go.

"I'm not asking you for that." Love in his eyes, and today determination outweighted his patience. "You can love me differently. I'm asking you to give me what you had." Obi-Wan squeezed him tightly, and Qui-Gon braced himself against the sweet, warm body.

Kyanara and Obi-Wan, no one else in any world could comfort him as they had. Haltingly, he admitted, "It's... easy to love the first time, Obi-Wan. It's simple and right. The second hurts."

For a moment there was quiet, and Qui-Gon hoped Obi-Wan might grant him space, as he always had when Kyanara was in his thoughts.

But this time Obi-Wan reached up to cup Qui-Gon's cheek, sealing his lips with a thumb. "Let me help."

So sudden.

Kyanara was here, waiting, but Qui-Gon struggled for every breath. He didn't want to go. Crashes and sparks and air tight with fury, and then sudden, terrifying silence.

He pulled against unconsciousness to send support, to prove he was still here, as long as Obi-Wan needed him, as long as he could stay, and with a burst of Force Obi-Wan was back, and rushing to cradle him in his arms.

In Obi-Wan's panicked eyes, he could see the truth. "It is too late. It's..."

"No!"

Obi-Wan, who brought him back to life. Qui-Gon couldn't leave him alone, couldn't leave him to the lonely path he might have chosen. "Obi-Wan promise... promise me you'll train the boy."

"Yes, Master." Not a moment of doubt, after everything.

Kyanara was waiting, and he didn't dare to speak it but he tried to say it with his eyes, with the touch of a finger. I don't want to go.

"He is the chosen one. He will bring balance. Train him."

And Obi-Wan nodded, was nodding as Qui-Gon felt the battle lost, as Obi-Wan faded away to a ghost-touch, and Kyanara was waiting.

By the way, this is the first time I've ever killed Qui-Gon. Yay, me! Encourage me to kill him again, in the feedback method of your choice, at drsquidlove@virginqueen.com.

More Squidfic can be found at
The Lecherous Tentacles of Dr Squidlove
http://members.iinet.net.au/~tentacles/squidfic.html