The Long Shadow: Love Letter I

by WriteStuff

Title: The Long Shadow: Love Letter I

Author: WriteStuff (Writestufflee@mindspring.com)

Archive: Certainly on M&A. Others please request.

Pairing/Category: Q/O, AU,

Rating: Adult (implied)

Disclaimer: The characters are George Lucas's, bless him for having such a fevered imagination, even if it's not as fevered as mine. I should be so lucky as to make any money from writing stuff that's this much fun to write. Unfortunately, I'm not.

Notes:

The first installment in The Long Shadow series, in The Warrior's Heart universe ( which can be found in the archives and in order at http://home.mindspring.com/~writestufflee/index.html). If you're not familiar with the Warrior's Heart, it might help to read at least Emancipation, which this story immediately follows. There are about 20 stories in this part of the series.

A couple of characters from the YA Jedi Apprentice series appear or are mentioned here: Bruck Chun, Obi-Wan's tormentor; and Qui-Gon's failed apprentice, Xanatos. I don't own them, either. However, if anybody'd like to sell me Qui-Gon, slightly used or otherwise, I have a platinum card waiting to be broken in. A trussed-up Obi-Wan wouldn't be amiss either. Home delivery requested.

Summary: Obi-Wan is off on his first solo mission and misses Qui-Gon. A letter home.

Feedback: Any sort is a pleasure to receive if you care to give it.

Iji Aijinn,

For the fourth time in six days, and the twelfth in the last eight tens, I am on a transport taking me farther away from you. Since arriving at my latest assignment—the sixth since I left Coruscant as a new knight—I've gone from place to place on this small world, surveying the miserable conditions of refugee camps, speaking with their residents about their treatment, smelling their misery and tasting their fear. Why is it people do such things to each other over mere pieces of land? As though the galaxy were not full enough of worlds to settle and call one's own. I fear the idea of ancestral ownership escapes me, as perhaps it would not had I been raised as a true son of Dannora and House Kenobi. Seeing this misery, I can only be glad I was not, and that my sense of home lies vested in the person whom I love, not the place where I live.

And how I miss home right now. How I miss you, Qui. I've been away from you far too long, and far longer than I expected when I set off to my first mission as a knight. How little I suspected that easy negotiation would turn into a flight from crisis to crisis, each of them taking me farther from Coruscant. It's not the duty I mind, but the fact that I have had no contact with you, either through standard transmissions or through our bond. I wish we had had more time to grow accustomed to the new closeness between us before damping it at my departure. I don't truly know if I would find it too distracting to have you with me that way, or if you would feel my presence so closely that it would truly be disruptive, but we dare not open it now. Having had it for so little time I find I miss that sense of you keenly.

I desperately want to know how you are, how your therapy is progressing, if you're regaining the strength in your legs, and your stamina and wind, if the pain and tenderness in your wound is finally fading, if you can move freely once again. I want to know if you're sleeping well, getting enough rest, eating right.

Especially the latter. I've always suspected that without me to cook for you, or the ready availability of the Temple's kitchens, that you might starve to death. I suppose that's my own conceit speaking. You managed to survive quite well without me cooking for you during the years prior to my appearance in your life. But I've always liked cooking for you, and you have always seemed so grateful for it. I suppose the duty will fall to Anakin in short order, poor lad. I hope, at least, that he's learning to make your tea the way you like it.

Mostly, Qui, I find myself missing the touch of your hands and the warmth of your body pressed up against mine in the night. I suppose, really, that I'm lonely. I don't understand how I could possibly have time to be, running from one mission to another, writing up a long report at each, and falling into a hard bed each night so emotionally exhausted that I can't stay awake long enough to meditate. I find myself waking in the night and reaching for you, wondering muzzily where you've gone in the dark, and then realizing you're far away from me, or I from you.

Oh dear, that sounds impossibly self-pitying, doesn't it? Perhaps I shouldn't send this. But there's a part of me that wants you, not to feel sorry for me, but to know how very much I love and miss you when we're apart. From the moment we became lovers, you've reminded me that the time would come when we'd be together only between missions, instead of as constant companions. I must admit I think you were better prepared for it than I, and it is hard lesson to learn, but learn it I must and will. More than anything, I want you to know that I am, as you have made me, ever a Jedi first, though that does not stop me from missing you.

I suppose, frankly, that some of this self-pity is borne of fatigue and hunger, as well. It's been a long day in a long ten of long days, in a long quarter of long tens, and the last time I ate was this morning. I've only now, after dark, remembered that I have rations tucked away in my pack. I promise to eat them as I finish this letter to you. I've become quite good at doing several things at once, everything but meditating and sleeping at the same time. I've not had much time for either and it's beginning to show. I've lost a good deal of what serenity I ever had and become quite snappish lately. I marvel at how you managed to maintain that appearance of unruffled calm all these years. I fear I've grossly underestimated your coping capacities. Little gods, Qui, how do you do it? The brutality I've seen in these last few days just sickens me. How did I miss this when I was with you?

It must have been your presence that made it bearable. Without you, I feel a little lost, much battered, and completely inadequate to the task. And I can hear exactly what you'll tell me in response to my whining: all new knights feel this way, and it will pass. I hope you're right, Qui. I hope I can justify the faith everyone seems to have in me. I hope I'm doing the right things.

The only thing I'm truly certain of right now is that I miss you, and I love you, and I will be glad to be back in your arms in our bed, whenever I'm allowed to come home.

Until then, know that I am, always,

Your Obi-Wan