Sherrac's Eve

by micehell

Title: Sherrac's Eve
Author: micehell
Category: pre-Q/O; holidayish squooshiness plus a little angst
Rating: G
Warnings: OMG, watch your insulin levels! Also, unbetaed, which explains the first warning, too. ;)
Summary: It was the silence that did that.
A/N: Yay, the first of the Twelve Day, Twelve Fandoms Extravaganza (or whatever)! I just wish I had something less... that to start with. ;) Ah, well, it's fic, so there you go. Some of you might remember I'd done a TPM holiday story a couple of years ago, and this is actually a sequel to that, so some of this might not make sense if you haven't read Hands first.

It was Sherrac's Eve on Coruscant, the hour late, imperfect darkness shrouding the city.

It was Sherrac's Eve in the infirmary, too, but unlike the city, teeming with its strange mix of real joy and determined gaiety, the infirmary was still and quiet, no soul stirring to disturb Qui-Gon's rest.

It was the silence that did that.

He'd thought himself too old and too wise to foolishly wish for things he didn't have, but there was nothing like hearing no voice but your own to realize just how foolish you've been. All those years with Obi-Wan, with the questions, and the chatter, and the noisy thrumming of the bond, even when he was asleep, and Qui-Gon would have sworn he'd give what few possessions he had for a day of silence. And yet, not even the full day after he'd won that prize, he was desperate to give it back.

He was too exhausted to berate himself, so all he could do was lie in the infirmary bed with the silence a blanket around him.

When the clatter came, he almost believed he'd willed it into existence, by his need for something but his own thoughts. But it came again, along with the sound of bells, and even after all he'd been through in the last two days, he couldn't imagine his will came with bells attached.

But he could imagine that it might be from the monitors in the other room. He'd never heard of one of the tubes failing, and he couldn't think why they'd use such a light sound as an alarm, but he was half way out of the bed, his body protesting the movement but his panic too strong to ignore, before recognition finally set in, the clatter resolving to Yoda's gimmer stick on the infirmary tiles, the bells his tradition on Sherrac's Eve.

Qui-Gon settled back in the bed, knowing Yoda would come to him. It wasn't just the pain that had him lying back, but also long habit, strict obedience to the healer's admonitions to remain in bed taken to heart when he knew the old master might catch him out.

Yoda came in at his usual unhurried pace, the twinkle in his eye telling Qui-Gon he wasn't fooling anyone. Qui-Gon was grateful to see it, even knowing it might mean a half-jesting lecture for him. Anything to break the awful silence was welcome.

Besides the bells and the mischievous twinkle, Yoda came with gifts, a platter filled with sweet cakes and mulled wine floating behind him. He placed them on the bedside table in place of the single Well rose that Mace had placed there. It was a sentiment that Mace rarely showed. Even when he'd given it, the gesture had been awkward, a rote gesture to the holiday. Yoda appreciated it though, munching on the crisp petals while waving his hands imperatively for Qui-Gon to eat. He brushed away escaped bits of flower as he said, "Decided to celebrate as we used to, I did, apprentice of my apprentice. Sherrac's Eve has long been absent from your life. And knew you would not be sleeping as you should, I did."

Qui-Gon tried to eat, but even when Yoda spoke, it was hard to hear anything past the silence in his head. The cakes tasted like nothing, and sat heavy in his stomach, the guilt already there not liking the company.

"Gathered are the others in the Great Hall, ready to welcome in Sherrac as it comes. Lend your voice, you could."

"I'm supposed to stay here."

Yoda grinned at that, the twinkle part of a far too knowing look. "'Supposed to' you would not mind, if wanted to you did." But the knowing look faded to distance, Yoda's voice almost a whisper when he said, "Stay here, you should. Sherrac's Eve will come here, as well."

He left Qui-Gon alone after that, his clatter and bells eaten by the silence.

Qui-Gon wanted to sleep then, to forget, just for a while, what had been, and what was missing. But more than that, he needed to see, if nothing else than to quell his earlier paranoia about the tubes possibly failing. Or maybe just to prove with his remaining senses that the silence wouldn't last forever.

It seemed to take forever to get to the other room, to make his way around the empty tubes until he found the one he was looking for. His breathing was heavy, all of his reserves stolen by the last couple of days, but it was worth it. Obi-Wan looked so peaceful in the bacta tube, all the serenity that seemed to escape him when he was awake now haloed in the fluid around him.

But he was too serene, too quiet. Not Obi-Wan at all. Certainly not the Obi-Wan that had been speaking to him since the first moment Qui-Gon saw him, whether he'd wanted to hear or not. This… stillness echoed, until it was all that Qui-Gon could hear.

He put his hands on the cool glass that separated them, trying to find that voice again. He knew he should go find sleep instead, that his body truly did have limits, but his own serenity had been lost light years away. It was still back there, chained to that post, still helpless to do anything but wait for his apprentice to be returned to him. The Jedi that he wore like a cloak was gone with it, leaving only Qui-Gon, a man too exhausted to be tired, and who knew it was too quiet to sleep.

He rested his head against the glass, letting it cool his brow, wondering what the healers would do if he were to move his bed in here. It was slight at first, just a small tremor, a shudder against his forehead, and he barely registered it, thinking it nothing more than his own failing body, trembling from too much emotion and too little control. But it came again, stronger, the alarm he'd wondered about earlier blaring in his ears as the glass of the tube pulled away from his touch, sliding aside as the bacta inside started cycling out.

The internal override switch was still in Obi-Wan's hand, but it slipped out of bacta-slick fingers as Obi-Wan started to fall. Qui-Gon's reflexes were too slow, and Obi-Wan too wet to catch, and they ended up on the floor, Qui-Gon's ass smarting under their combined weight, but it didn't matter. Bacta everywhere, and Obi-Wan's "Master" little more than breath, and it didn't matter, because Qui-Gon could hear him again. Could hold him as he had before, just a day ago, when they'd been the only two people in his world.

The alarm kept going even as medical personnel ran in demanding to know what had happened. Hands tried to pry Obi-Wan from his grasp, but Qui-Gon held on, his mind caught between the present and memory, and determined that this time they wouldn't take Obi-Wan. That this time he wouldn't fail. Obi-Wan's hands clutched back, and he whispered, "Master," again, breath and body caught in Qui-Gon's robe.

He heard Yoda telling the others to leave them be, and he remembered that these hands had nothing but good intentions, but he couldn't let go anyway. Not then, when everything in him that wasn't Obi-Wan's was listening to the voices that had started in the Great Hall. They echoed through the Temple, through the Force, working their magic of harmony just like he remembered from all those years ago.

Working their magic on him, with their reminder of happier times, and the promise that there would be more. They weren't enough, in themselves, to pull back the parts of him he'd not meant to leave behind, but they filled in the blank places where those parts would one day fit again.

It had been a long time since he'd heard them, since he'd wanted to be part of it, but he still remembered the words. He held Obi-Wan to him, and voice rough with exhaustion, joined in, sharing this with his apprentice just as he'd promised.

It should have sounded horrible, the way he always expected it to. But Qui-Gon was on Coruscant for Sherrac's Eve, Obi-Wan safe in his arms and loud in his head, counterpoint to the song that held them both, and there was nothing that wasn't right with that moment.

Qui-Gon was asleep in the next.

/story

Post-A/N: I'm not sure if you can really see it or not, but, very oddly, this has a bits of it kind of based on Twas the Night Before Christmas... and, no, I don't really know why. ;)