Snapshots: Obi-Wan Kenobi, this is your life (September 2001)

by Pumpkin (apumpkin@rogers.com)

Author's webpage: https://www.squidge.org/~pumpkin/

Archive: yes

Rating: G - NC17

Pairing: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan

Warnings: none

Spoilers: none

Feedback is always appreciated

Summary: The date listed is the date the 'snapshot' was written/posted. Each piece is a segment within the same universe, but they are not in any sort of order. Each piece stands alone. The snapshots will run the gamut from G to NC17. Some may be several pages long, some only a couple of paragraphs; some will contain smut, many will not; they will be different styles with different voices.

Disclaimers: Mine they are not, dream a girl can

September 01, 2001

"... We could be stuck here a very long time."

Obi-Wan turned off his commlink with a frown. The Force was tugging at him, there was a nexus of threads here, coming together, pulling tight. He was at their centre, caught in their trap.

He closed his eyes, dropping into a light meditation, trying to coax more from the Force. Backward, forward, off on a tangent, the grey tightness remained the same. A sense of inevitability -as if it didn't matter what he did or didn't do...

He opened his eyes and shook off the sudden feeling that he had indeed been here for a very long time; there was an engine to fix.

September 02, 2001

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, dropping into a light meditation.

The Force was dim here, muted and hidden, but he knew how to ride the threads, how to weave his way deep enough.

The snarl of threads he'd been caught in was unravelling, he could feel it. Soon his path would diverge from the cluster, sending him home.

That thought made him open his eyes -he had indeed been here for a very long time, he was ready to be called home; and in the meantime, there was an engine to fix.

September 03, 2001

Qui-Gon was drawn to the sound of a child's laughter. High-pitched and carefree, it came from one of the small buildings that served as homes for the refugees. It was such a rare sound in this place of dour and sad, defeated faces. A sound of hope.

As he approached the hovel from which the sound emanated, he discovered he was not the only one drawn to the light of laughter. A dozen adults clustered around the door, hovering quietly.

With the benefit of his height, he peered over their shoulders, mouth gaping open in astonishment at the sight that met his curious eyes.

There, sitting on a stone block, was his padawan, dirty and tired, bouncing a tow-headed toddler on his knees. The child was laughing, face full of complete, innocent joy.

Qui-Gon watched the other adults, seeing hope bloom there. He felt hope blossom in his own chest at the sight. Hope, not only for these people, but for his own padawan as well.

September 04, 2001

We are fire, passion burning brightly between us. Our love, like the embers, endures, glows hotly, ready to dance to life again at passion's call.

September 05, 2001

We are a rock, tested by the ages, weathered by time and nature. Our love shifts, erodes, changes texture and shape. We are changed by time, but remain. Constant, true, evolving.

September 06, 2001

We are a star, burning brightly in the darkness. Close or distant, our light shines. Though we have faded, died out, our light carries forth, breaking someone's dark night.

September 07, 2001

We are an ocean, deep and calm, quiet beneath the surface. Quiet unless you know how to listen, how to hear without your ears and see without your eyes. Timeless, vast, constant.

September 08, 2001

We are a desert, appearing lifeless and barren, but are really only dormant. The rains come and life springs into action, grasses and flowers -simple transient beauty. The real beauty lies in the wind swept dunes, the endless, dry sea, the billions upon billions of grains of sand, each one different.

September 09, 2001

We are the Force, Unifying and Living, separate yet merged. Two who are one, in and of all things. Our time has been, is now, will be. Birth, love death, birth, love, death. We are the Force.

September 10, 2001

We are nothing. We are everything. Him and me -us, them we, they. Together. One. We are.

September 11, 2001

Obi-Wan returned from his hike to find the camp he shared with Qui-Gon to be much noisier than expected. His master sat by the fire while the racket came from their tent. He looked from Qui-Gon to the tent and back again.

"What's going on in there?" he finally asked.

"The miracle of life, Padawan."

Obi-Wan groaned. "Please tell me you didn't let some female have her baby on my sleeping bag!"

"But Padawan, the miracle of life."

"Master!" Obi-Wan went over to the ten and peered in cautiously. It was worse than he had been expecting. Instead of the humanoid female and child he had assumed his master had housed in their only tent, he discovered a canid with six yowling, slimy pups making their bed on Obi-Wan's sleeping bag.

He let the flap close.

"How could you?"

"The miracle of life, Padawan." Qui-Gon turned his eyes on Obi-Wan, their expression an almost exact replica of the mother canid.

Obi-Wan threw up his hands and headed back into the forest.

September 12, 2001

It isn't the sounds that I miss the most. Or the touches - quick and frantic or soft and slow, passion exploding over our skin. No special place holds court in my memories, no one time when everything was just as I would always want it to be. Nothing like that is what I remember the most.

No, here on this quiet planet, in my lonely vigil, it is the silences that I remember -the times we simply were. Not master and apprentice, not lovers, not Jedi, not even Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan -just you and I, two souls together.

I feel it still, the quiet of our companionship, as I while away my hours, guarding the Force's prize.

I do not pine -for how can I miss what I never lost?

September 13, 2001

Skin on skin. Heat against heat. Moving, sliding, pushing, shoving, reaching. And sweet pleasure spills from us, heats already hot sweat slickened skin.

Skin on skin. Sweat cooling. Chests heaving, slowing as breath catches, hearts slowing, pleasure spiralling down and away.

Skin on skin. Lying together. Quiet together. Sleeping together. Together.

September 14, 2001

Obi-Wan watched as the black-headed bird slipped beneath the water once more, resurfacing a moment later further down the lake.

"What is it, Master?"

"They call it a walloon."

"Why such an odd name?"

His master cupped his hands around his mouth and repeated the bird's name several times. The black head rose and turned in their direction and spoke, the sound the bird made eerily similar to his master's call.

"I see now, Master," Obi-Wan said as Qui-Gon turned to smile at him.

They stood companionably for awhile, watching as the walloon continued to disappear into the water and reappear somewhere else along the lake. Finally the bird went under and didn't reappear again. Leaning forward, craning his neck, Obi-Wan searched for the walloon.

"Do you think it's all right?" he asked his master.

"See for yourself -find it through the Force. I assume you can feel the water?"

"Yes, Master. And those little spikes are fish?"

"That's right. The walloon should be bigger, more intense."

"Yes, Mas- oh! There it is. She's beautiful!"

Qui-Gon's hand came to his shoulder and squeezed gently. They stood that way for a long while, watching the walloon, trailing it with eyes and the Force.

September 15, 2001

"Master," Obi-Wan spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb Qui-Gon.

"Hm?" The rumble was distracted, but enough to allow Obi-Wan to continue his query.

"I'm not sure what the Slewindi expect us to do. We can hardly stop fires in their tracks -not just the two of us and not on the scale they've indicated."

"We're here to prevent them from occurring in the first place."

"Uh-huh." Obi-Wan knew his tone was sceptical at best and disrespectful at worst, but he truly thought this was a waste of their time and talents -they would be better served serving elsewhere.

"Close your eyes," Qui-Gon ordered. Obi-Wan did so, automatically opening his senses to the Force.

"Good," continued his master, "now open your eyes and use them to direct where you are seeing with the Force. Start at the area you can see and then make yourself see beyond that. Push out as far as you can."

"What am I searching for?"

"Areas that are at the greatest risk of fire. It is our job to pinpoint where the crews should concentrate their efforts."

"How will I know whe- Ow!" Obi-Wan pulled himself back and held his arm out to steady himself on his master's shoulder.

"It's rather obvious, isn't it?" Qui-Gon asked sympathetically.

"That area beyond the ridge is dying. It is so dry it's likely to go up without any provocation from stray sparks - just more sun." Obi-Wan was amazed and alarmed.

"Do you see now how we may help?"

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan answered vaguely, his attention returning to the woods around them.

September 16, 2001

"Go to bed, Obi-Wan."

"Just another minute, Master."

Several minutes pass, during which Obi-Wan yawns, more than once.

"Go to bed, Obi-Wan."

"Just one more minute, Master."

"You said that five minutes ago."

"Please, Master?"

"Very well -one more minute."

Two minutes pass, during which Obi-Wan dozes off, waking with a jerk as his head falls to his chest.

"Go to bed, Obi-Wan."

"In a moment, Master."

"Obi-Wan."

"Yes, Master?"

"Bed. Now."

"Yes, Master."

September 24, 2001

He felt numb. He did the things he was supposed to do and said the things he was supposed to say, but he could barely hear himself, let alone anyone else.

The Queen offered her condolences and there was sadness in her eyes. He bowed and thanked her. Her advisors offered their condolences and thanks. He bowed, acknowledging them.

He could hear their whispers, feel their glances. He knew they spoke of the Jedi and their serenity. It was good that he could honour his master so.

And maybe, one day, the numbness would fade and serenity could find him. Until then he would wear its mask.

September 25, 2001

"I have a bad feeling about this."

No Master -- Qui-Gon -- please don't dismiss this. I know it isn't here and now, but elsewhere, elusive, but it begins right here, it begins right now. I can feel it, like the itch at the back of my neck when someone stares.

If we were not on duty I would take your head in my hands and kiss you until the feeling went away, buried beneath our passion. Instead all I can do is look down upon the planet below and hope that the negotiations are indeed short and that we are soon on our way.

I have a bad feeling about this.

September 26, 2001

Anakin was right, space was cold.

Obi-Wan wondered why he'd never noticed it before. He'd travelled the galaxy wide, first with his master and then with his padawan and he'd never noticed how cold space was.

Today, as his small craft hurtled among the stars, going he knew not where, only that it was away from...what his padawan had become -- Anakin Skywalker no more -- today he felt the coldness of space fill him.

September 27, 2001

Obi-Wan watched his breath fog the air and he pushed his hands deeper into the sleeves of his robe. Paradisia had proven itself to be anything but and he couldn't wait until they got their transport out.

He sighed heavily, following it up with an internal sigh as the first sent another rush of visible air ahead of him. A moment later found him defending his ribs from Qui-Gon's elbow.

Turning to glare at his mater, he was instead transfixed. In the air in front of Qui-Gon, the words 'I love you' had been drawn in the fog from Qui-Gon's breath.

September 28, 2001

Once, in a very long while, it rains on Tatooine. Large, fat drops driven to the ground by an angry, lashing wind. They hit the desert in an explosion of sand, grains scattering, refusing their moisture. As quickly as it comes, the storm disappears, leaving the sands dry, barren, as if those drops never had been.

Even rarer is the gentle rain that falls for minutes instead of seconds. These drops fall softly, slide between the grains of sand and quietly insinuate themselves beneath them. Absorbed into the desert, they offer thanks, throwing vegetation, green grass and millions of tiny multi-coloured flowers, upon the sand's surface.

For there is life here on this harsh, lonely planet I now call home, but, as with everything here, it needs to be coaxed not forced. Here patience is not a virtue but a necessity.

Here, I have learned things my other masters could never teach me.

End.