WARNINGS: None, apart from lack of hot monkey sex.
SPOILERS: Maybe for JA books.
FEEDBACK: Like I'm gonna say no!
SUMMARY: Someone is painting pictures of Obi-Wan.
Pictures had been hanging along the great corridor for as long
as Obi-Wan could remember; as long as his Master could
remember.
They varied greatly. Some where enormous and complicated
paintings done in oil based colourings; others were the
simplest wax scribbles from the initiates in the creche. No one
owned the space; there were no rules or order to the
presentations. It was a public forum for art of all kinds;
anyone could display their work here for as long or short a
period as they wished.
No one really remembered how or why it had started, it simply
was.
Never being particularly artistically inclined, not with paints
anyway...his art forms were the complicated katas of a warrior,
at first Obi-Wan had rarely done more than pass an eye across
them as he passed. That was until Bant had pointed out a
particular painting to him shortly after his return to
Coruscant after being accepted as Qui-Gon's padawan.
The painting was done in monotone, black on white, white on
black, blending into greys and shadows. A lone figure stood on
a practice mat in what could have been one of a hundred of the
temple's training rooms, lightsaber in hand. The body was
arched, head back, saber grasped firmly and Obi-Wan recognised
the stance as well as the figure.
The artist had somehow managed to capture the image of him as
he prepared to do a reverse flip during the 4th level defence
kata. The briefest moment in time captured forever and brought
to life with nothing more than dark versus light.
It could have been anyone of a million practice sessions except
for one detail. The figure in the picture wore the braid of a
Padawan Learner. As Obi-Wan had only been wearing his braid for
little over 2 weeks whoever had drawn this image had done so
recently.
At first he had been a little embarrassed and thought about
asking the artist to remove it. When he discovered it was
unsigned he thought briefly about removing it anyway. Knowing
that would go against the unspoken principle of the wall he
finally settled with his-self to leave it alone.
The picture remained on display for over a cycle and he found
that actually came to appreciate its presence. Someone had
taken the time to draw a moment of his life; he should be
flattered not embarrassed. When he walked by one morning to
find it gone he found he was sorry.
Over the following years other pictures from the same artist
appeared on the wall. Obi-Wan would have been hard pressed to
explain to anyone how he knew they were by the same person, but
he did. They came in various mediums but they all had one thing
in common, they were always snapshots of time inside the
temple. Some were in bright life colours, some little more than
outline drawings.
His were always in black and white. Darkness and Light.
No two pictures were alike. Some captured him in action,
sparing with an opponent, running for a transport, competing in
saber trials. Others reflected more sedate moments. Meditating
in the water gardens beside his favourite water flow, bent over
a data pad in a classroom or sitting on the sidelines of a
combat lesson watching the other Padawans and Knights training.
He could always tell how recent the paintings were from the
length of his braid.
As he matured he came to appreciate each drawing and passed
over the awkwardness of having something of his-self displayed
to the bustling life of the Jedi temple.
He was often left with burning questions. How did the artist
capture the moment so accurately? Why choose him as a subject?
Why did they not sign their work? He was always left to channel
his frustrations to the Force.
He had tried once, when he had been about 19, to track the
artist down. He had sat late one night crossed leg in the great
hall, his latest portrait in his hands, and attempted to do a
life force reading. The signature had been there, but faint. He
had spent most of the rest of his stay on Coruscant trying to
match that Force signature to every Jedi that crossed his path.
All to soon he had been called away with his Master for yet
another mission and by the time he had returned the picture was
gone and it no longer seemed so important.
Now he stood in the great hall staring at the wall once more. A
Knight now, no longer a Padawan. Qui-Gon was no longer his
Master but instead his lover. Obi-Wan had a Padawan of his own
now. One circle completed; another just beginning.
His Knighting ceremony had been only two days ago yet somehow
he knew that his secret artist would have a new offering for
him and he had felt himself drawn here once more.
He had never expected this.
They were all there, every painting and drawing of him that had
ever graced the wall was on display, but there was nothing new.
He could trace the passage of his life not just in the growth
of his body but by the length of his braid.
His fingers unconsciously reached up to the spot behind his
right ear where the symbol of his apprenticeship had been
severed.
A figure appeared beside him and he turned to find himself face
to face with one of the civilian staff of the temple. She was
of the same age as his Master...former Master he corrected
himself, and wore the simple blue overalls of a cleansing
technician. She smiled slightly and handed him a small canvas.
"This one is for your eyes only," she spoke.
His eyes flickered down to the painting and he felt his breath
leave his body. It was a moment from his Knighting ceremony.
Qui-Gon had been standing behind him as he had sliced the long
braid of hair from Obi-Wan's head and announced to the crowd
before them that Obi-Wan was now a Knight of the Jedi Order.
Obi-Wan had turned to face his Master and their eyes had met.
It had been that very instant that he had read everything in
Qui-Gon's gaze that he had ever dared to wish for.
Qui-Gon wanted him, loved him with the same passion that
Obi-Wan had his Master for longer than he could count. 'Now
your are a Knight and I can love you' that look had said.
The moment was captured before him in its familiar light and
dark, every unspoken emotion and thought laid bare before him.
Anyone glancing at the picture would have seen the depth of the
love between the two men.
"I..." He began looking up once more but he was alone.
Questions tumbled through his brain, quickly followed by
answers as his mind finally fitted all the pieces of the jigsaw
together.
His attempt to track down the mysterious artist had failed
because he had foolish assumed that it was one of his fellow
Jedi capturing the splinters of his life. Realisation of how
narrow minded he had been hit him and he felt his shoulders sag
slightly.
Hundreds, maybe thousands of people lived and worked in the
temple, only half of that number was Jedi. Sanitation
Technicians and Temple Engineers had access to as many areas as
the Masters, Knights and Padawan's. Who better to see temple
life in its truest form than those members of its community
that were everywhere but never seen?
How many times had he been guilty of passing by a technician
and seeing no more than a blue uniform?
He clutched the gift he'd been given tightly as he finally
turned to make his way back to his living quarters. He had
learnt a valuable lesson tonight, one he should have learnt a
long time ago.
Never under estimate anyone, no matter how insignificant they
seemed.
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