Archive: MA (pwease!)
Category: Angst, POV.
Warnings: Nah uh.
Spoilers: Don't think so...
Summary: Monologues on how the duo feel towards each
other.
Feedback: Yes please!
Qui-Gon:
In the game of love, you can't control your heart. You can't
choose who you feel affection for. You can't manipulate them
into feeling the same way. All you can do is to place your
heart before the object of your desires and let them decide
your fate. All you can do is to obey your passion, throw your
soul open for their inspection and prey that they respond in
the way you've dreamt of for years.
Why then did I fight so hard against my feelings for Obi-Wan?
Love for my apprentice snuck up on me without my realising,
just as his maturity did. For years he was Padawan, all limbs
and wide eyes. Then I turned around one day and he was a man.
Perhaps it wasn't his development that jumped so quickly;
perhaps that day was when I finally opened my eyes and saw him
for the person he really is. For the person I love.
Since I realised, and accepted, the fact that his destiny lay
along the same path as mine, I've loved him as any teacher
would. We spent so much time together, formed such an intense
bond - him trusting and believing in me, and I, constantly in
awe at his ability and strength - I couldn't help but feel for
him. I thought it was the same as every other Master/Padawan
relationship.
In some ways I wish it had been.
I wouldn't trade my days with Obi-Wan for anything. The last
few years were tough, I admit, but I could never have coped
without him. I don't know if he noticed my glances, my
lingering hand on his shoulder, the embraces that lasted
slightly too long. I'm sure he must have, at least on some
subconscious level. He didn't react to them, no reason that he
should have; it was just his master showing general affection.
He seemed to flaunt his body, oblivious to the impact that
every inch of his being had over me. What's worse is that he
unwittingly mocked me with his lovers. He was discreet, my dear
Obi-Wan, but even with caution, his stream of bedmates - of
young bedmates - were public knowledge.
In all my experience, I have found one problem to the tight
training bond formed between student and teacher: even with
shielding, I knew when he took someone into his bed. Every time
I felt that sensation, my heart would break. Without even
knowing it, he crushed my spirit, bit by bit.
On the planet of Tatooine I could feel the Light and Dark
twisting around themselves, vying for supremacy. When
that...thing...attacked, I knew it was death. My death.
I ran away.
It wasn't out of fear; I'm still surprised it took this long
for the Force to decide my time was up. I ran because I had
things to do, because I had people to see safely reach the
paths that would lead to their destiny. As long as I was doing
it for the children, it was all right for me to delay my fate.
I knew I didn't have much time left, so why could I still not
reveal my true feelings? Every time I opened my mouth to speak
to Obi-Wan, I wished that the words would tumble out. They
never did.
To make matters worse, I almost lost him. So near to my end,
when I needed him the most, I actually risked losing my sweet
apprentice. I handled the situation terribly.
On Coruscant I made my arrangements, tied up any business I
had and tried to deal with everything while there was time. I
didn't want Obi- Wan to have to worry about anything when he
returned without me. The Council knew what I was doing, that I
expected never to stand before them again. I'm glad they didn't
say anything.
Back on the Naboo and I was in denial. I ran conversations
through my head, trying to find the best way to bring up the
subject. I couldn't do it. I wanted so much to hold my young
padawan and tell him how I felt. I wanted to hear him repeat my
words back to me.
I couldn't do it.
Each time I thought I'd built up enough courage, I was
silenced with images of him staring at me in shock and disgust.
In my final days I just wanted to be near him. How could I
consciously risk our relationship; risk his absence from my
side?
I fluctuated between determination and fear. And all the
while, time slipped steadily through my fingers.
Death caught up with me and I had no choice, I had to relent.
Obi-Wan held me tight to him, tears in his eyes and a tremble
in his voice as he protested the inevitable. I told him to
train Anakin. My mind screamed at me, but I could only tell him
to train Anakin.
I chanted the words I love you in my head like a mantra, over
and over, willing my lips to form them.
I couldn't do it.
Obi-Wan:
My master used to get this glint in his eye, like he was
looking right into something, or someone. You'd think most Jedi
would have that look, especially when there are times we have
to gouge someone's emotions and intentions. But Master had a
different look, one that penetrated deeper, and did so as
gently as a lover's caress.
You'd be surprised how well I know his eyes. I wonder if he'd
be surprised too. Every chance I had to study them, I did.
Every glance was a lesson, another few moments of research to
be later dissected and compiled with all my other memories.
I thought my staring would give the game away. Often he
started to say something, then seem to think better of it and
close his mouth again. I used to panic that he was trying to
ask why I gawked at him so, but I couldn't stop myself, even if
I lacked a good excuse for my attention.
I dreamt about ways to tell him how I felt, about him telling
me that he shared my feelings, about him taking and loving
me... As much as I wanted it to happen, as much as I wished
every day for his lips to meet mine, even if it lasted only a
moment, I guess I knew we could never really be together. I was
his padawan, and he didn't see me as anything else, especially
not a potential lover.
I was afraid of losing him. That my secret would ruin our
relationship. If he, or anyone, found out, then everything
would change.
And I certainly didn't want change, not when I could at least
/pretend/ that there was something between us. While he was
ignorant of my infatuation he would continue to embrace me or
rest a comforting hand on my shoulder and I could close my eyes
and tell myself there was longing in that touch. I lived for
the contact, the chance to add new sensations to my fantasies;
to imagine those strong hands roaming my body, holding me tight
to him.
But I was too scared of rejection to do anything about it. I
was scared of being pushed away from him, of having our bond
broken. And even if he didn't disown me as his apprentice, then
the relationship would be permanently tarnished by my
admission. He would be reluctant to encourage me in any way,
making both of us feel uncomfortable.
I decided that, as long as it preserved the fondness Qui-Gon
showed towards me, then I could handle living with my secret. I
decided to review that idea once I could approach him as a
Knight, not his apprentice. I decided I would be careful how I
dealt with the situation, so that no one would get hurt.
My decisions cost me everything.
Qui-Gon:
There is no death; there is the Force.
It's partially correct. There is the Force, but there is also
death. You become separated from almost all you ever knew, then
scattered throughout the Force, connected to everything, tied
down to nothing.
I'm not there yet. I'm still being separated.
I wasn't ready to die. I had something left to do, but Death
grew tired of me putting off my acceptance. As a result I'm in
oscillation between two states of existence. Had I done what I
knew I must, I would be one with the Force by now. I think It's
given me a slight reprieve to settle my heart. Perhaps I can't
fully move on without doing so. I'm grateful, for in this peace
I still feel the discord burning in my soul.
I've been watching Obi-Wan, if you can call this observation.
I /know/ what he's doing, where he is, every detail that
surrounds him, but it isn't with my eyes that I see him.
He's a Knight now, and I'm so proud of him. Even as a student
he was more powerful than this supposed /master/, his victory
over that monster is proof enough. He deserves every praise
bestowed upon his success.
I followed him home; tethered by some mystical bond, my
conscious sensed his journey. I could tell he would do his best
by Anakin, he made such effort to reassure the boy. He spent a
lot of that time meditating, centring himself. I wanted to
reach out then, tell him I loved him, but it wasn't right,
wasn't the time.
At the Temple he took it upon himself to sort out my affairs.
It didn't take long for him to realise that I had dealt with
most of them beforehand. He's intelligent; he understood
instantly what it meant.
And he was angry with me.
It was a surprise, the extent of his rage, and most of it was
directed at me, but I knew his reason, and I now regret that I
didn't tell him I had foreseen my demise. Why hadn't I? It
would have made my secret easier to share with him if he knew I
was running out of time. He might have passed it off as the
whim of a dying man, but at least he would have known!
Hindsight could possibly be my worse enemy.
The day he found out I had been aware of my fate, the day his
fury seemed to grow dangerously strong, Coruscant experienced
the most beautiful sunset I'd ever seen. I'm positive now that
it was made so because of my new state, my heightened
sensitivity to such things.
Obi-Wan stood framed in that light, hands balled into fists at
his sides and eyes tightly shut against the glare. I could feel
him struggling with his emotions.
"Why?" he whispered to the sun. "Why?"
I could stand it no longer; I reached out to him. The lack of
a body vexed me and I had to settle for a mental touch, wishing
desperately that he wouldn't think it was his imagination.
// Obi-Wan // I called gently.
He visibly shuddered, then glanced around the room with wide
eyes. There was such hope in his beautiful gaze that I almost
lost the connection.
"Master?" he breathed, still anxiously searching for the
source of my voice. I wanted to show myself, stand before him
and hold him in my arms. I have never wanted anything as much
as I wanted that.
// Obi-Wan // I repeated, shaken and unable to find any more
words.
My dear, sweet Obi-Wan fell to his knees.
Bathed in golden light, he looked as unnatural as I felt.
Though he looked like a god, and I felt like an intruder. He
tucked his chin to his chest and I could tell he was trying not
to sob.
He fought tears that my voice had brought to his eyes. I
cursed the pride and fear that had kept me from being open with
him. I knew at that moment he would never have left me, even if
my feelings were not mirrored in his heart, he would not have
deserted me.
// I love you, Obi-Wan //
I'd said it.
After years of repressing the emotion, of denying myself
complete honesty and the chance to know how he felt for me, I
had said it.
Through whatever passes as my mind in this detached state,
there whirled a torrent of memories and fantasies, each and
every detail I had ever noted and imagined about him. The sheen
on his bare chest when we trained for a long time, the impudent
gleam in his eye, the absurd little ponytail that hardly seemed
worth it. Then there were the things I lingered over, his
hands, lips, the things I wanted to have them do to me, the
things I wanted to do to him. I couldn't hold back the images
and I knew he was seeing them too.
I wanted to apologise, not for loving him, but for keeping
quiet. I wanted to apologise for the fantasies I was forcing
upon his mind; I didn't want to mar the way he thought of me.
I focus now on how he made me feel, how he could brighten my
day by simply being near me. How one thought of him could bring
a smile to my face.
Obi-Wan is crying.
The Force must have only so much tolerance for this type of
situation. It allowed me the time to finish the business of
Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, but now that I have opened myself to
Obi-Wan, I can feel It tugging relentlessly at me, drawing me
away and trying to deny me the knowledge of how my revelations
are received.
I want to stay. Barely a heartbeat has passed since I told
him. It feels like a lifetime, and it isn't nearly enough.
I want to stay.
My connection to my love is severed and I am pulled away
against my wishes. Pulled away to become one with the Force.
Obi-Wan:
My master died before I could take my trials, before I could
tell him how I felt and before I could discover if there had
ever been a chance of him feeling the same way.
If only I'd had some warning!
I suppose when we're young we don't have much concept of time,
and especially not of dying. What with the Code's view on
death, the very notion that he would die before fate played out
properly didn't occur to me. Evidently my belief that our fate
included /some/ kind of closure to the situation, even if it
wasn't what I wanted, was misguided.
I don't think the Force shared my views; It didn't see fit to
let me in on Its timetable, that's for sure. What confuses me
is all the evidence I am just now finding which suggests that
Qui-Gon knew he was going to die before we returned to Naboo.
And yet he didn't tell me?
Why do I feel betrayed by that?
Why do I feel anger at him for not telling me? More
importantly, why do I feel anger at him for leaving me?!
And why, why do I pretend that I don't know...? I don't hate
him, I hate myself for being weak. Not once in all our years
together did I make the effort to come clean, not even when he
was taking his /last/ breaths could I get out the words I had
practised saying so often. I owed him a lot, but I couldn't
stretch that debt to honesty? Pathetic.
His face haunts me. His eyes. His calm, intelligent,
amused...fascinating eyes haunt me. And they haunt me tainted
by the pain of his death.
Dark with unconcealed agony, his eyes meet mine as I hold him
to my chest. I will my life into him, begging and pleading to
anything that is listening to heal his fatal wound. Nothing is
enough. Death clamps Its cold fingers around my love's throat
and drags him away from me.
He whispers something about the boy. Yes, master, anything,
I'll do anything for you. I love you, my master. I love you,
Qui-Gon Jinn. Thoughts wail through my head, clawing at
everything inside, crying out for a cure to this horror. Don't
leave me, Master, I can't let you go!
My vocabulary at that moment in time consisted of about three
words. 'No', 'yes' and 'Master'.
It didn't include the three words I /really/ wanted to say,
and I regret that being so.
I'm standing by the window in my room, trying to blind myself
with sunlight and failing. My mind reviews his death for the
thousandth time and my hands clench in reaction to my
stupidity.
Attempting to control myself, I try to think of other things,
but in an act of defiance my thoughts lead onto a topic only
fractionally more acceptable. The words of Qui-Gon's friends
and associates float forward from my memory, mixing together to
present a single detail I do /not/ want to know. He was aware
of his imminent death.
"Why?" I ask the sun, the Force, any gods that are watching
on, and Qui-Gon. Why didn't he tell me? Why didn't I tell him?
Why did I love him if it wasn't meant to be? Why did he leave
me? "Why?"
His touch flares through me like electricity. I hear his voice
calling my name.
With hope that can only come from desperation, I turn, willing
to believe /any/ explanation for the sensation, just as long as
it's real.
The room is empty.
"Master?" The whimper is only hidden because of my hushed
voice. My heart jumps, sinks and twists, all at the same time.
If he appeared now, smiling and claiming that it had been a
mistake, I wouldn't think twice about believing him.
After a moment I hear my name again, carried on a breath of
air that sends shivers along my spine. I feel his presence, so
close and yet not here at all. My knees buckle and I drop,
tears blur my vision and my lungs appear to have stopped
working somehow.
This can't be happening. It's not real. I'm imagining it. I'm
letting my grief play tricks on me. This can't be happening.
// I love you, Obi-Wan //
The iota of control I had before vanishes. I cry, for myself
and for my love, my master. Air is drawn in reluctantly between
sobs and I decide I want to die.
As if he doesn't think those simple words are ecstasy enough
for me, Qui-Gon gives me another gift, proof that he does truly
love me. He gives me his thoughts, and through his eyes I watch
myself.
The power of his emotion overwhelms me. Of course I imagined
him feeling affection for me, but this is...genuine!
I watch our bodies moving together in a passionate clinch and
I actually have to remind myself that it isn't a memory, it
seems that real to my bewildered mind.
No more images now. Just feelings. They make my heart ache
with their tenderness. Their depth and intensity.
And I thought he saw me as just his apprentice?
Gone? He's gone!
"NO!" I shout. The word breaks into multiple syllables amongst
my tears.
He was here with me, all along he was with me, but now I can't
feel him any more. Cold darkness seeps into the open wound of
his passing.
He has to come back! I have to tell him, I have to let him
know that I felt the same way! // I love you too //
"I LOVE YOU TOO!"
No reply.
My stomach twists in fear. How could I have hesitated in
making that clear? I should have said it the instant after he
did. Why did I wait?
He's gone and he doesn't know that I loved him as well.
Falling to my side, I curl up as tight as I can. He loved me,
all this time he loved me and only now do I find out. I find
out and I don't say a word!
"Qui-Gon," I moan quietly.
I think someone knocks at my door, but I'm lost deep within
myself. Behind my closed eyelids I see the face of my love.
Over and over he tells me he loves me. Over and over he dies
without knowing that I love him too.
I see his lips, his hair, his hands. I feel his body against
mine, strong and graceful. His arms hold me, conveying messages
of love and devotion that I could never accept as real.
I see his eyes. Through it all, I see his midnight blue eyes.
As if twin mirrors, they reflect my love and I wonder how I
could have been so blind.
I want to be with him. Him here, or me there. I don't care. I
just want to touch him, kiss him, tell him that I've always
loved him.
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