Six Forms of Perfection

by Kalujinn

Title: Six Forms of Perfection
Author: Kalujinn
Archive: master_apprentice
Category: Q/O, drama
Rating: PG
Warnings: no sex, just slash implied
Spoilers: none
Summary: Obi-Wan's research leads him to self-discovery
Note: A repost of one of my fics to be added back into the archive
Feedback: yes, please, comments welcome.

His master was fond of saying, "There's being prepared, and then there's Obi-Wan."

It was Qui-Gon's subtle way of teasing him about his mild obsessive streak. Obi-Wan took mission preparation to a new level, for research was his passion. He simply loved doing it. He loved tracking down stray facts, obscure references, anything that could help him complete the picture he was trying to create. Currently, that picture was a thesis entitled "The Jedi Code: A Study in Evolving Complexities as Interpreted by History's Most Influential Council Members."

Bant had groaned loudly when Obi-Wan announced that he had signed up for Senior Code Theory with Jocasta Nu. Garen voiced his own suspicion that it was all a ruse, that Obi-Wan actually had a thing for the Master Archivist and was taking the class so he could spend more time with her.

"She's not that bad, once you get to know her," was Obi-Wan's red-faced reply. And, in truth, it was so.

To the casual observer, Jocasta Nu was all prickles and angles. There was nothing soft about her. Her eyes saw everything; her words were piercing and sharp. But beneath it all was a highly intelligent mind. And it was her mind, contrary to Garen's supposition, that drew Obi-Wan's interest. Master Nu seemed to recognize a kindred spirit in the young man. It was not unusual for her to find him curled up in an armchair in some secluded nook of the archive, a datachip plugged into his handset, oblivious to the lateness of the hour. The first few times it happened she had been quite gruff with him as she sent him on his way. But Obi-Wan, mindful of the need to stay in her good graces, was always respectful in return.

He had even, on occasion, come home from a mission with a book or two for her. At first, she had protested, but he had merely smiled and been about his business. All in all, his quiet, respectful attitude and his small gifts went a long way toward making friends with the solitary Jedi archivist.

His efforts to cultivate goodwill with the older woman paid off when, one evening, Jocasta Nu offered to allow Obi-Wan access to the private journals of By'nera Risst.

During the course of his research, Obi-Wan had studied many different versions of the Code, each more ancient than the last. It was only when he looked at a leather bound copy of the Code from three hundred years past that a glaring discrepancy became apparent. Chapter nine, subpart seven, the "no attachments" rule. It was missing.

At first, he thought that it was merely a rearrangement of the texts, but as he skimmed the pages, he found no mention of it. Nor, for that matter, was there reference to relationships between masters and their padawans. It was as if the issue had never before been addressed.

Obi-Wan saw a mystery unfolding and his curiosity was peaked. What had led to the addition of the no attachments rule? What happened that so affected the Jedi that they felt the behavior must be addressed in the Code? Additions to the Code were sufficiently rare that Obi-Wan felt compelled to explore this further.

The padawan expanded his search to include written documents and holographic recordings from the time period in which the change occurred. Nothing. The very lack of an evidentiary trail stoked Obi-Wan's curiosity to a feverish pitch. In a last ditch effort, he decided to read the biographical accounts of the Jedi Council members of the time. As he browsed the ancient volumes, a name leaped out at him, one that he recognized. By'nera Risst.

By'nera Risst had been the most influential member of the Jedi Council during a time of sweeping change in the Order. His name was well known to any student of Jedi Temple history, for he had been the proponent of changing the Age of Selection from ten to thirteen. His personal friendship with then-Supreme Chancellor Nidi Torominas had led to greater involvement by the Jedi in negotiations on various member worlds of the Republic. Risst had been the one to argue that their participation in matters outside the Temple was the will of the Force. Because of this, countless Jedi over the years had been instrumental in ending conflicts through the galaxy, thus earning them the title of Guardians of the Peace.

Risst's biographer gave a timeline of events in the Councilor's life, but his writing style was dry and uninspired. Obi-Wan wanted more. He wanted details. He found himself digging through the public records of Risst's decisions, trying to get a feel for who the master was, both as a Jedi and as a man.

The early holographic recordings showed a tall human male with an impressive bearing about him. He wore his hair long, as did most of the humans during that time. It was a glossy black, with subtle hints of silver, especially at the temples. His dark eyes were filled with a lively intelligence. His voice was a rich baritone and commanded the attention of the listener. His reputation as a dynamic speaker was apparently well deserved.

"It is imperative that we follow the will of the Force in this, my brothers. I have meditated long and hard on the matter, and I believe we should accept the Supreme Chancellor's mandate. It is our duty, our responsibility, to offer ourselves as the vehicle by which the Force may do good. To turn our backs on those in need, to continue to hide away in our Temple, these are acts of unkindness and are not worthy of those who would call themselves Jedi Knights. My brothers, I plead with you, let us go forth and aid the cause of the Light."

Obi-Wan sat back in his chair. This man, Risst, seemed familiar to him. In many ways, he reminded him of Qui-Gon. The two men were built the same, moved with the same quiet grace. Each was an able negotiator, though Qui-Gon used his skill outside the Council chamber more often than not. Both men conveyed a heartfelt sincerity when arguing for or against a cause. Perhaps it was that odd sense of familiarity that drew Obi-Wan ever deeper into Risst's life story.

How had Risst felt about the issue of attachments? Was he for it or against? Had he argued in favor of the change or had he vehemently opposed it? Two weeks later, Obi-Wan's thorough search paid off when he found a recording of Risst pleading with his fellow Council members.

"Therefore, my brothers, I put it to you. Do not allow another to suffer as I have in these last days. This freedom of the heart may not continue. It is a weakness that must be rooted out, destroyed. It is an abuse of the soul. Let the Code reflect our findings. From this day forward, it is forbidden for masters and their padawans to become attached."

It was By'nera Risst who spoke those words. But he was not the Risst Obi-Wan had come to recognize. No, this was a broken man. His shoulders were slumped in defeat, his eyes shadowed in pain.

The minutes gave no indication as to the cause of the dramatic change in the once-proud Jedi master. Obi-Wan looked at all the documents he could find with a date stamp that coincided with the recording. There was no explanation for the Jedi's profoundly sorrowful words.

He had reached a dead end.

Obi-Wan buried the heels of his hands in his eyes. A sharp, pinging pain between his shoulder blades was a mute reminder that he hadn't moved from the table in hours. Perhaps he should just call it a night, go to bed early for once.

"What's wrong, padawan?" Jocasta Nu asked in her carefully modulated voice.

Obi-Wan moved his hands from his face and began to gather up his workpapers. With a tired smile, he admitted, "I suppose I'm a bit discouraged."

She came into the small carrel and drew out the only other chair. With precise movements, she oriented it exactly perpendicular to the table and sat down, placing her palms face down on her lap. "Now, tell me why you're discouraged."

"I've gone over and over every public record I can find that deals with By'nera Risst and I am unable to determine why he... ummm..." Obi-Wan paused, suddenly reluctant to share the subject of his search. What would Master Nu think of him?

"Why he?" She prompted him a bit impatiently. "Why he what?"

"Well, there are some ideas that he espoused that I cannot find any support for in the records. I just want to know what his thoughts were about... certain issues." Obi-Wan finished lamely.

"Hmm." The older woman tapped one finger against her pursed lips, then rose abruptly. "Wait here."

She returned a few minutes later, a box of books in her arms. She placed the box on the table before him and cleared her throat meaningfully. "These are Risst's private journals. They are very valuable and very fragile. You may examine them, if you promise to be careful."

Obi-Wan's heart began to pound with excitement. The answer was here, somewhere, buried in the fragile pages of the Jedi master's handwritten diaries. He nodded emphatically.

"I give you my word."

With careful hands, he lifted out a volume and opened it.

"He came to my bed last night. He wore only a loincloth, and the moonlight on the sloping planes of his upper chest made it seem as if he were carved from some precious white marble. I sat up and held out my hand to him. There was a sense of rightness to it when he slipped his hand into mine.

"We explored one another, fingertips tracing the strong muscles of a back here, a firm buttock
there. Time seemed to stand still. At last, I found myself truly able to live in the moment. It is a moment I shall never forget, a moment like no other.

"For I have tasted six forms of perfection and they are known as Muresh Finoma. My padawan."

Every spare moment, from that night forward, was spent in the archive. Master Nu would not allow him to take the journals back to his quarters, so Obi-Wan was forced to do all his research in the carrel he had staked out for his own use.

His thoughts were filled with the private musings of a long-dead Jedi master. The relationship, the love between the two men, slowly revealed itself as he turned the faded pages.

"We are Jedi First . . . lovers second.
Honor, commitment, knowledge, serenity . . . Jedi First

"Passion, love, fulfillment . . . secondary.
Why then does my heart ache when we part?
A body honed for fighting melts at your touch.
Hard-won serenity vanishes with your presence.

"My honor and commitment balance on your soul.
The only thing that keeps me sane: We are Jedi first."

The words stirred him in a way he would have been hard pressed to explain. Almost without thought, Obi-Wan began to copy the verses into his notebook. He would meditate on their meaning and try to discover why they touched him on such a personal level.

Obi-Wan found that, in exploring the written words of a long-dead Jedi Councilor, he was developing an increased awareness of his own master. One evening, he looked up from his datapad and began to study the older man with new eyes.

Like Risst, Qui-Gon Jinn was an impressive man. His shoulders were broad and strong, his torso narrowed to slim hips. Qui-Gon could be quietly calm or sternly brusque, depending on the situation. His manner was one of gentleness, usually, but Obi-Wan had seen him make the fiercest negotiators back down.

As a swordsman, he was unparalleled. Qui-Gon moved with a grace that Obi-Wan tried to duplicate. Lacking the master's height, Obi-Wan feared his best efforts were a poor imitation. Still, Qui-Gon had managed to impart enough of his skill to make Obi-Wan the leading fighter in his age group.

Qui-Gon had a presence about him that was, for want of a better word, mesmerizing. Men and women alike made it amply clear that his attentions would be welcomed. But in all the time they had been together, Obi-Wan had never known his master to take a lover.

What would it be like to be with Qui-Gon, to know him in the most intimate of ways? Obi-Wan blushed at the thought, but allowed his mind to explore the idea. He was confident Qui-Gon would be a generous, thoughtful lover, one who would take pleasure in the simplest things: a gentle touch, a stolen kiss, the shared silent exchange of two hearts.

But, Obi-Wan thought, he would be a fiercely passionate lover as well. For Qui-Gon was a man of deep feeling. He would not be one to give his heart lightly. No, Obi-Wan shook his head, the person who won Qui-Gon Jinn's heart would know beyond all doubt that he or she had been awarded the most priceless treasure imaginable.

"You have been studying too hard, padawan."

Obi-Wan started, feeling a slight rush of warmth heat his cheeks. He knew that Qui-Gon could not read his mind, but there were times...

The older man closed his book and placed it on the table beside his armchair. "Would you join me in meditation?"

"Yes, Master."

Obi-Wan rose and moved to join him on the balcony. Qui-Gon knelt first and Obi-Wan followed suit, mirroring his stance. The young man placed his palms together and touched the fingertips to his forehead.

It was a gesture he had picked up on their last mission, a sign of respect and a silent pledge of obedience. Qui-Gon's mouth turned up in one corner before he reached up and encased Obi-Wan's steepled hands in his own. Obi-Wan felt his breath catch in his chest, for this was something Qui-Gon had never done before. It was a pledge of protection, one that a superior would give to a subordinate. But it was one most commonly shared between wedded couples. Obi-Wan peered into his companion's face, desperately trying to read him. Was this an accident of fate? Did Qui-Gon realize the significance of his gesture?

The blue eyes that met his gaze were filled with warmth and acceptance. Long lashes fluttered shut as Qui-Gon placed his palms on his strong thighs and settled into meditation. Reluctantly, Obi-Wan did the same, though it was many long minutes before he found his quiet center.

"The hour is late and I sit here at my desk, a glowing candle beside me. My padawan often scolds me for using this inadequate light source. He claims it will damage my eyes. But, somehow, it does not seem right to share my thoughts with my journal under glaring harsh lights. Silent confidences beg for the more subtle, more accepting light of the glowing flame. And confidences are what I must share this night.

"Muresh sleeps soundly in my bed, the covers just over his hips, his arm wrapped around my unused pillow. I lay beside him for hours tonight, watching him sleep. It is our last night as master and padawan. Tomorrow, Muresh begins his Trials. And when he returns, he will be my bonded. I asked him tonight.

"For all my trepidation, I knew his answer before I had completed my first sentence. The joy and the love that shown from his face told me.. He flung himself at me and kissed me with a fierceness I have never before known in my beloved. Over and over, I heard the echo of his mental voice through our bond, saying, 'Yes, yes, yes!'

"I do not know what I have done to deserve such happiness, but I offer my heartfelt gratitude to the Force."

"Padawan, do you know what time it is?" Jocasta Nu scolded gently from the doorway of the carrel. Obi-Wan blinked his weary eyes and looked at his timepiece.

"Oh, Force!" he uttered as he leaped from his chair. "I've got an exam in twelve minutes!"

He grabbed his satchel and tossed it over his shoulder as he darted past the woman.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, don't you be running through my archive!" The old woman's whisper carried to his ears and he dropped back to a walk. A fast walk, but a walk, nonetheless.

"I place here a copy of the vows as my beloved recited them to me on this our bonding day.

"There no emotion; there is peace.
My peace is in my love for you.
"There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
The knowledge of your love has shamed my ignorance.
"There is no passion; there is serenity.
My serenity is a result of our passion.
"There is no death; there is the Force.
From this day forward, not even death will separate us.

"He sleeps now, warm and content from our lovemaking. His braid, that glorious cord of golden strands representing his years of faithful service to me, is woven into a bracelet that I wear around my wrist. For as long as I live, it will never leave my body."

Obi-Wan sat cross-legged on the floor of the common room he shared with his master. His gaze was unfocused as he thoughtfully braided the lock of hair that stretched from behind his right ear to just below his collarbone. At the appropriate length, he bound the braid with colored thread. Yellow, to signify his recent passage into the ranks of Senior Padawanship. On the day he was knighted, this braid would be tied off with white, a symbol of the purity with which he must serve the Force.

What must Muresh have felt on the evening before his knighting ceremony? Pride? Excitement? Perhaps a touch of nostalgia? How would it be if one were approaching one's bonding as well? Would those feelings be magnified?

In a way, Obi-Wan envied him. Muresh knew he had a place in his master's heart, in his life, after he passed his Trials. Obi-Wan wondered what place he would have in his own master's life in that distantly obscure place called the future.

The young man felt frozen as the implications of what he had just read washed over him. After a few moments of contemplation, he took up his pen and began to transcribe the passage from By'nera Risst's handwritten journal.

"My heart is broken. The one to whom my heart belongs has been returned to me, his body crushed and nearly unrecognizable. His face! His beautiful face, which once shown with love for me, is bruised and cut and dirty. The spirited twinkle in his eyes is forever extinguished. I will never again know his kisses, his touch, his unblemished love. Never again will I hear his laughter or his lovely voice raised in song. Oh, sweet Force, help me! I cannot bear it! To lose a former padawan is deeply painful. To lose one that is also a bondmate cannot be borne. By the heart of my beloved Muresh, I swear that no one will ever experience such pain again."

This was it.

One of the most personal tenets of the Jedi Code could be traced to this very entry in By'nera Risst's journal. No attachments. Most especially, no attachments of a romantic nature between masters and their padawans.

With a few careful strokes, Obi-Wan completed his transcription, then laid his pen aside. He leaned back in his chair, stretching out his cramped legs under the table. He crossed his arms over his chest and began to stroke at his bristly chin absently.

Normally, he would have been overjoyed at having found the missing piece of the puzzle. The accomplishment of a goal was often its own reward. But not this time. Obi-Wan felt a heaviness in his chest. It took him a moment to realize it was the weight of grief. Over the past few weeks, he had developed a vested interest in the story of By'nera Risst and Muresh Finoma. Though he had suspected the story would end badly, it was a shock nonetheless when that ending came. He closed his eyes and tried to release his feelings to the Force without much success. Mentally, he tried to take a step back, to look at what he had learned with objective eyes.

"So," he whispered to himself. "Now you know the circumstances surrounding the revision. I guess the next question needs to be, why would the Council have allowed one person's tragedy to affect the entire Order?"

"Obi-Wan!" His master's voice penetrated the preoccupied musings of the young man a split second before the blade passed by his shoulder. He blinked twice, then powered down his own 'saber.

Qui-Gon stepped close and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "What is wrong with you, padawan? I've never known you to be so distracted."

"I'm sorry, Master," he said, bowing his head.

Qui-Gon's penetrating gaze swept over him critically. Obi-Wan glanced down and realized he had donned two outer tunics that morning, instead of the traditional inner and outer combination. His braid desperately needed to be replaited and his boots were scuffed and dull. Obi-Wan could tell by the look on the other man's face that he was, indeed, a mess.

"Come with me," Qui-Gon ordered in a firm tone. He turned sharply on his heel and left the training salle. Obi-Wan walked as fast as he could in order to keep up with the taller man's brisk strides. In moments, the Jedi Master led him to a small, secluded garden. The sky was darkening overhead and a pair of lovebirds nestled together on an upper branch of the garden's only tree. Qui-Gon moved to the stone bench that was carved from the Temple wall and lowered himself gracefully. He patted the seat beside him. "Sit down."

Gingerly, Obi-Wan joined him. He sat tensely beside his master and waited. Qui-Gon leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, his gaze directed toward a flowering shrubjust across the path from them.

Several long minutes passed in silence, but Qui-Gon seemed content in the moment. Obi-Wan focused his attention on his breathing, an old tactic he had devised when he needed to keep from fidgeting. Still, a wave of restlessness washed over him. He was horrified when his right knee began to bounce up and down, a bad habit he had developed as an initiate.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" Qui-Gon's stern voice startled him as the older man put one hand on Obi-Wan's knee, forcing it to be still.

"Going on, Master?" Obi-Wan asked. "I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do."

Qui-Gon turned his head, his gaze pinning Obi-Wan to the wall like a trapped insectoid specimen.

"You haven't been sleeping well for weeks now, you seem unconcerned about your sloppy appearance, and your appetite is non-existent. You never bring your friends around anymore, and today I could have skewered you with my lightsaber and I doubt you would have noticed. So, I ask you again, what's going on?"

"Oh," was all he could manage.

"Oh?" Qui-Gon pressed. "That's it? I believe I deserve an explanation, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan stood and began to pace the confines of the garden. "I don't know... that is, I'm not sure..." He stopped and cocked his hips to one side, his arms crossing over his chest. He closed his eyes and heaved a deep sigh, then turned to face his master."I think I may be having a crisis of faith."

Qui-Gon looked thunderstruck. When at last he found his voice, he asked softly, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, that I do not think I can follow the Code anymore. At least, not like I used to," he explained as he resumed his seat beside his master.

"Not follow the Code? Obi-Wan... " The older man stared at him, his countenance filled with concern. "I don't understand."

"Do you know why it is forbidden for masters and padawans to become... " Obi-Wan asked, waving one hand as he searched for the correct word, "involved?"

"Because it says so in the Code," Qui-Gon replied, his brows drawn together in puzzlement.

"Yes, but do you know why it's in the Code?" Obi-Wan heard impatience bleeding into his
voice and he winced.

If Qui-Gon noticed Obi-Wan's tone, he chose to ignore it. With a shake of his head, he admitted, "No, I do not. Perhaps the Council felt it was necessary. I imagine that there would be some potential for abuse if there were no guidelines in place."

"But, Master, we are Jedi!" Obi-Wan protested. "Why would a master abuse his padawan that way? For that matter, if a master were so inclined, I doubt a tenet in the Code would be sufficient protection for his padawan."

Qui-Gon nodded thoughtfully. "True. Do you have a theory?"

"I don't just have a theory. I know why it's there."

"Tell me, then." Qui-Gon encouraged him with a wave of his hand.

"It all traces back to By'nera Risst." Obi-Wan sighed and leaned back against the wall, allowing his legs to stretch out before him, his gaze directed skyward as he began to share his discovery.

Qui-Gon was silent for a long time after Obi-Wan finished. At last, he cleared his throat. "So, when you say you don't know if you can follow the Code, is it because offeelings you have... for me?"

"Yes. No! I mean... oh, I don't know," Obi-Wan finished lamely. The restless feeling returned with a vengeance. He leaped to his feet and began to pace again. "I just don't know if I can follow a Code that prohibits love between two who have shared so much."

He moved to kneel before the older man and took Qui-Gon's hand in his own, drawing it to him. He turned it over and traced the callused ridges in the palm with a fingertip. "I mean, what if, at some point in the future, I fell in love with you? Hypothetically speaking of course. Or, you with me? What would that be so wrong with that?"

When Qui-Gon did not respond, he raised his eyes. There was a look of tenderness in the older man's blue gaze. It proved to be Obi-Wan's undoing. He leaned in and kissed the older man gently, a bit awkwardly, then drew away.

"Would it be so wrong?" he asked again.

"Tonight, I put my pen to paper for the first time. The lights are out. A single candle provides illumination. Someone once said that certain confidences can only be shared in the subtle glow of candlelight. And tonight, I understand what he meant.

"For I have tasted six forms of perfection, and they are known as Qui-Gon Jinn. My master."

End