Master Apprentice 
Archive
Obi-Wan Kenobi, this is your life (October 2000)
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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: Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm.
October 01, 2000
He palms open our door, but we walk through it together. Once the door has slid shut behind us he removes his cloak and hangs it, then comes and take mine. Tell me, Master, cannot even this penetrate your vaunted calm? Does the prospect of our making love for the first time not pierce your serenity as it does mine?
He walks across the common room to his sleeping chamber, turning to me when he reaches his door and holding out his hands.
"Come, Obi-Wan," his voice is soft, sure. I do not answer, knowing my own voice could not match his; I'm not entirely sure I could actually speak.
As I draw nearer I see it and my heart fills, my feet moving to cross the room more quickly to join him; he is as affected as I.
Faintly, just a little, his hands are trembling.
October 02, 2000
I watch as my heart and soul cross the room toward me. I sink into the moment.
This moment.
This moment where I am not a Jedi, not his master, not a warrior nor a diplomat.
I am a man. A man who trembles as he waits for the one who completes him to draw near.
October 03, 2000
My master touches me.
My world narrows. Nothing exists outside of this room and we two in it.
He dips his fingers into my mouth and I suck on them, each one and then the next.
The room, the bed -everything outside of us disappears. We could be any place, any time -it matters not. All that matters is the glide of his hands over my skin, leaving damp trails in their wake.
I gasp. He slides his fingertips over the hollow of my throat.
Gasp. Pinches my nipples.
Moan. Now my shaft. Yes. Like that.
His hands.
On me.
Sliding heat.
Long finger.
In me.
His hands.
His.
Hands.
October 04, 2000
I love to touch him.
No. I enjoy touching him. I always have; whether the gesture is one of comfort, companionship or teaching, touching Obi-Wan has always brought me contentment, comfort.
What I love is using my touch to make him incoherent.
He is beautiful -writhing in passion, out of control. And it fills me with fierce joy to know that my touch has driven him to this state of mindless bliss.
His body is my instrument and each gasp, each moan my hands coax from him is our symphony.
October 05, 2000
His final act was to touch me. Those fingers, so softly, against my cheek, my lips. Those hands have defined my life as a padawan and now I shall know their touch no more.
I lift my own hand now, and touch my fingers where his lay. No words of love came from his mouth, but his fingers spoke more eloquently than he could have managed, telling me everything I needed to hear. 'I love you. I will be waiting.'
For as long as I live I will remember the touch of his hand on my face, the force of him in my life, the power of his love in my mind, in my body.
Always and forever.
I love you also, Qui-Gon.
October 06, 2000
I love you, my own.
The words are beyond me now; reality is losing its colour, losing its focus.
I reach up, needing to touch you one more time. Your skin is hot against my fingertips -the only part of me that is warm. One of your tears hits my hand, falling on my skin like a living flame.
Don't cry, my love. Our love is not so weak that death can rend it. I will be waiting -always waiting for you.
Until the end of time if I must.
October 07, 2000
Anakin stumbled as he neared the end of the kata, but continued gamely on. Stopping only when the form came to its conclusion, he waited for Master Obi-Wan to correct him.
Anakin wasn't very good at the katas. He stumbled a lot and often lost his control over the Force as he misstepped. Master Obi-Wan said the loss of control came because he hadn't grown up in the temple and the stumbling was because he was growing so quickly he didn't have a chance to find his centre of balance before it had changed again. Whatever it was it made him feel clumsy. He made more mistakes than any of the other padawans and even the initiates seemed to be better at the katas than he was.
He shivered; the temple was kept warm enough, but Anakin always found the training halls cold after a workout. Then Master Obi-Wan's hand wrapped around his arm, warming him. He knew his master got impatient with him sometimes, but Master Obi-Wan always showed him how to do things properly and made him feel better.
He waited for Master Obi-Wan's instruction, but it didn't come. Looking up into his master's face, he found Obi-Wan looking down at him, but Anakin was pretty sure that Master Obi-Wan didn't actually see him.
"Master?" he said softly, wondering what his master was seeing.
October 08, 2000
Anakin struggles to finish his kata and as he comes to a stop I move forward to help him with the sections he's missed. I have only been his master for a little over a year, but already I have done this a thousand times.
His skin is warm and slightly damp from his workout. I look down at my hand on his arm and freeze, memory flooding me.
How many hundreds and thousands of masters have stood just like this, with their padawans over the years?
Certainly I can remember Qui-Gon's hand on my arm. His hand...warm and soothing, gently leading me through my lessons.
I miss him. I miss his counsel. I miss his touch. I miss his...hands.
October 09, 2000
The red blade comes toward me. I can feel the heat of it as it draws near; behind me it is cold and growing colder. Everything has slowed as if I am outside of time.
I feel a hand touch my back, barely there, but I would recognise it anywhere.
My master.
It is finally time.
I concentrate on making that touch more real, more solid. Now I can fully feel the electric presence of Qui-Gon behind me and the Death Star Station, Darth, his blade, all have lost their colour.
I take a step back as the blade continues toward me; back into my lover's arms and watch my own 'saber and cloak fall to the floor as Darth's blade slices through the air. I am in my master's embrace, the well-loved hands on my body, the loving presence in my mind.
One hand is spread over my belly and I feel a thrill go through me -familiar but long absent.
I long to sink into this moment, but I have one more task for the moment I am leaving behind. 'Run, Luke. Run.' And with that I leave behind the existence I knew, ready to step into the unknown with my master at my side.
Qui-Gon's free hand cups my cheek, takes my chin and turns my head toward him.
As our lips meet I know.
This kiss never need end.
October 10, 2000
The moment is finally arrived; the time when the light begins against to press back the darkness in the galaxy. The time when I may again be reunited with my Obi-Wan; his time at keeping that light lit drawing to an end.
His body has grown weak and weary, old long before his time. He should be in his prime and instead is near death. But his spirit shines, a bright light that calls to me. I open my arm to him, eager to hold him one more.
Give me your hand and come to me, my own.
October 11, 2000
He wraps my braid around his hand and pulls my head back, tilts it to the side. I look up into his face -made vulnerable by his hold on my hair, while I am made his by the look in his eyes.
And I await his kiss.
October 12, 2000
He licks his lips, sweet moisture settling on the tender flesh. My own tongue snakes out, called by his, to touch the corner of my mouth. His eyes track the movement, caught by the sinuous dance.
And I await his kiss.
October 13, 2000
He leans closer, my breath brushing over his skin. His breath catches in his throat, as if waiting for my permission to exhale, while I long to breathe him in. A quiet resides within us both, waiting to explode.
And I await his kiss.
October 14, 2000
I am caught within his grasp but have found the universe in his eyes. The quiet deepens, begins to resonate within him, finding its match in me, as we stand frozen, poised inside each other.
Still, I await his kiss.
October 15, 2000
Our lips meet. My eyes close. His taste invades my mouth.
He becomes my soul.
A kiss becomes existence.
October 16, 2000
Qui-Gon shifts, trying to pull his arm, which has gone to sleep, out from under the weight of his padawan's head. He's pressed against the wall though, and has no leverage, making his movements awkward. He's further hampered by his unwillingness to wake his sleeping lover.
He smiles as he thinks about how Obi-Wan always did take up the majority of the sleeping space, even when he was little. Qui-Gon remembers the first time they shared a bed; it was on a mission some time after he'd taken Obi-Wan as his apprentice. Back when his padawan was all eyes and enthusiasm.
The boy had started the night curled up on one corner of the bed, but Qui-Gon had woken in the middle of the night, almost falling off the edge, the small, warm body pressed tightly against his side.
Obi-Wan murmurs and presses closer, nuzzling into Qui-Gon's shoulder with a sleepy murmur. Qui-Gon shifts again and wraps his free arm around Obi-Wan's waist, pulling him closer still. He knows he's probably being sentimental but he can't help thinking what's a little bed space compared to the warm length of his beloved?
October 17, 2000
Obi-Wan shivered as Qui-Gon drew slowly down his side, nuzzling his ribs, each in turn. Lips, hot with a hint of wet; nose, the tip of it cold; beard tickling where it gently grazed his skin.
"Yes," Obi-Wan whispered urgently as his lover's touch neared the curve beneath his ribs, just above his hip. "Yes, there. Kiss me there."
He convulsed as Qui-Gon did.
His master's tongue was warm and clever, teasing over his skin with tiny flicks and then caressing him with long, slow licks. Qui-Gon nibbled at the sensitive spot and placed a hot, sucking kiss there, making Obi-Wan whimper.
Then his master stopped, resting his face against Obi-Wan's side. He could feel Qui-Gon's every breath against his skin, could feel each exhalation against the small sweet spot on his side.
"I love you, Qui-Gon," he whispered. A soft kiss, just there, was his reply.
October 18, 2000
A warm lick bathed Obi-Wan's shoulder and he buried his head under his pillow, grumbling. Another lick prompted a grumpy "go 'way". The third had Obi-Wan shifting to face his master. Only it wasn't his master at all, it was a large poura dog, sitting on the bed, soft tongue hanging from it's mouth, dripping. Obi-Wan shrieked as he-
"I did not shriek, Master."
"You most certainly did."
"Did not."
"Very well then. A high pitched loud sound of surprise - what would you call it?"
"A yell...p. Why don't you tell them about the time we got lost in the forests of Sustii, instead?"
"Not nearly as amusing."
"Then how about the time you insisted we rescue the snarl?"
"I think they're quite enjoying this story, Padawan."
"Or at least you're enjoying the telling."
"What was that?"
"I said, it was definitely closer to yelling."
"If you insist, Padawan. May I go on with the story now?"
"Yes, Master."
October 19, 2000
I am separated from it by a wall of red. He paces before it, violence, barely leashed, in every movement, eyes brimming with fury. Malevolence, hatred and rage are palpable, darkness incarnate.
I close my eyes on it and cast my senses backward.
Backward to my padawan, trapped behind his own wall of red; his light nevertheless shines brightly, like a beacon against the evil before me. I let his brightness warm my soul. Now I am ready to meet my fate.
The wall falls.
October 20, 2000
"Will it always hurt like this, Master?"
"Yes...You look surprised."
"It wasn't the answer I was expecting."
"The pain of killing will always be inside you. It is something you need to learn to live with, but never learn to be rid of."
"I'm not sure I understand, Master."
"The day you no longer feel pain in killing is the day you take a giant step to the dark side."
"But the people we kill are bad people."
"And are you so pure that you can withstand others judging you as you would judge those that we find it our duty to kill?"
"No, Master."
"Sometimes we must kill to do our duty and sometimes we must choose to end what we believe is the greater evil, but that does not excuse our actions. Killing is wrong."
"So I should be happy it hurts so much?"
"You should use the pain as a reminder that killing is to be avoided."
"Yes, Master."
"But that doesn't mean you can't share your burden with others. I would share this one with you, Obi-Wan."
"Thank you, Master."
October 24, 2000
Obi-Wan crept into the room where they'd brought the pilot and settled on his haunches in a corner. Two healers sat near the biobed, left hands joined, right hands on the man's chest. A third healer moved quietly about the room, checking the readouts on the machines that monitored the patient. The man's chest rose and fell slowly, one of the machines breathing for him.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and swallowed, feeling again the big hand as it pushed him to the ground. The paristeel hull was cold and hard and the body that followed him down was much larger than he was and heavy.
Obi-Wan put his hands over his head as the sound of blaster fire filled the corridor. He could hear the others crying, screaming. And he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe.
"Intiate."
Jerking, Obi-Wan's eyes flew open. One of the healers stood before him.
"You shouldn't be in here."
"Is he?" Obi-Wan looked past her toward the pilot, the other two healers were gone.
"He's going to make it," the healer said gently, before becoming stern once more. "Now, you really need to go, I'm sure the dorm masters are worried about you."
"Yes, Master Healer. Thank you."
October 25, 2000
I know that he is whole, cradled in the Force and most of the time it is enough. Sometimes it is not.
I miss him. I miss the way his body feels in the darkness, heavy with sleep.
Our room echoes loudly with the silence of his missing sounds. Breathing, shifting, moaning, groaning, gasping. The sound of flesh sliding along flesh, of flesh hitting flesh, the pounding of our love. I can hear it if I lie still and listen to my own heart beating, but it is only an echo of the real thing.
I miss the big things. The way his presence filled our quarters. The way his voice carried through the air. His hello, his goodbye, his kiss.
I miss the little things. The smell of a cup of tea made and brought to him, steaming in my hands. Two pillows on the bed. The worn edges of his game of Solstrategemas. The brush of his hair over my skin as we make love. The whisper of his breath in the night.
I miss all the ways he filled my life, leaving no part of me untouched. I miss him.
I know that he feels no pain, that he is in the Force, a part of every living thing and most of the time it is enough. Sometimes it is not.
October 26, 2000
We sat to watch the sunset together; the evening shadows grew from long to longer and my master's breathing from soft to softer as he fell asleep.
The days on New Tela are long -twice the standard of Coruscant and we have spent them working hard; physical labour tiring even the best kept body. For weeks now we have cut and gathered and picked. My weariness extends even to my bones and I know it lies as deep upon my master.
But with the aches and the exhaustion comes the knowledge that what we are doing here makes a difference. Here on New Tela we are helping.
Qui-Gon begins to snore. I curl into the place next to him, his body warming mine, and let myself drift.
October 28, 2000
Obi-Wan settled into the first position of the Time and Power kata, standing absolutely still, legs slightly apart, arms hanging at his sides. He observed the moment as it passed, holding the position until he felt it was time to take up the second movement.
Bending his knees slightly, he slid one foot behind his body and brought his hands together in front of himself, as if he were holding his lightsaber at the ready. Again he observed the moment as it passed.
This kata was one of his favourites. The lack of wide or quick movements meant it could be performed in close quarters - often all that were available to the Jedi as they travelled. The observation of each moment was a form of meditation that Obi-Wan enjoyed -clearing his mind of clutter and emotion. It had taken him a long time to perfect this kata, and even now it sometimes eluded him; the challenge renewed every time he began.
He would assume the first position and hold it until he was immersed in the moment. The moment would grow, swell like a drop of water hanging from a flower petal until it grew too big and dropped down to the next petal, shattering. That was when he would assume the second position and hold it until it was again time to move on.
Sometimes he would sit on the floor and watch as his master performed the kata. Either way it left him feeling fulfilled, grounded in the Force and free to fly within it at the same time. This kata more than any other made him feel he knew, if only in a small way, what it truly meant to be a Jedi.
October 29, 2000
I hurry along the corridor, already a few minutes late for a lecture with Master T'lathn. I have every hope that he will become my master and don't want to sour my chances by missing his class, even one as dry as The History of the Senate Within the Republic.
I'm daydreaming about being his padawan and so it takes a few minutes before I pick up on echoes of emotions in the hall. I squint and look down the corridor, seeing people slow and lean their heads together, the soft sound of whispering filling the air.
And then I see it. See what has the other beings along the hall acting strangely. A master and a padawan are coming down the hall. This isn't an usual sight, but this master and this padawan have been the talk of the temple for days.
Rumours have flown around the initiates' dorm, fuelled by those of us who have friends among the padawans, ever since they arrived back from their last mission. I've heard that the padawan was dead, that he was crippled, that he was blinded, burned, stabbed, all manners of injury and degrees of seriousness have been speculated.
As they come closer, I can see the white bandage, stark and surprising across Padawan Kenobi's eyes and around his head. Blind then.
Sadness fills me. To be without sight -I can't even imagine what it must be like. And what will happen to him, how can he be a Jedi if he can't see? He was one of the brightest hopes of the Order and now.... I can't imagine something like that happening to me, it must be awful.
His master walks a bit in front of him, his face stern. It looks like he's chastising us for staring, rebuking us for listening to and spreading rumours; it's like he knows what's in our thoughts. His eyes meet mine and I look at the ground, ashamed for having intruded on their pain in this way.
But Kenobi...he walks as he always has, just behind his master, face calm, steps sure.
I don't think I would be so calm in his place.
I take one last peek before hurrying down the corridor.
The sight of the white band across his face is burned forever in my mind.
October 30, 2000
Obi-Wan looks across the campfire, the flames banked to ambers that glow dimly. His master lies on the other side. Qui-Gon has wrapped his cloak tightly around himself and uses his pack as a pillow. He seems so still, the cold not touching him.
Obi-Wan is cold; huddled beneath his own cloak, he is unable to find the serenity that has allowed Qui-Gon his sleep. Obi-Wan shivers, but no longer with cold as an image from a long gone dream tickles at the back of his mind. His master, lying still and unfeeling as flames lick at him, consuming the shell his body has become.
Obi-Wan sits up, gasping, his heart beating fast, and he tries to push the panic from his mind. He looks at his master, but Qui-Gon's posture is so close to that of his vision-dream that he can see the flames surrounding Qui-Gon, lighting the dark night.
Obi-Wan closes his eyes and then looks at his master again, forcing himself to see Qui-Gon as he really is. The fire is banked to nothing more than embers and as Obi-Wan watches closely, he can see a puff of fog dance on the breath from his master's lungs. He watches for several minutes until the slow, even breaths reassure him.
Whatever it was that he saw is only a pale reflection of his master. Obi-Wan lies down again, curls into himself and lets the presence of Qui-Gon in his life reassure him, lull him to sleep.
October 31, 2000
Obi-Wan cornered Geran as his friend ran into the initiates dorm. "You're the fifth one in and out of here like Master Yoda's letting loose with his gimer stick -what's up?"
Geran looked around surreptitiously and then leaned in close. "Get your pillowcase and meet me at the west tower," whispered the boy.
"The west tower, but that's -"
"Sh. Keep your voice down."
"The west tower's living quarters," said Obi-Wan, managing to whisper this time.
Geran only nodded and placed his finger across his lips. Obi-Wan copied the gesture and then ran for his bunk. Pulling the cover off his pillow, he folded and tucked the linen under his arm and hurried as casually as possible to the west tower.
Geran was already there, waiting impatiently. "Finally."
"So are you going to tell me what's going on now?"
Geran shook his head and grabbed his hand. "You'll see," he said.
Obi-Wan trailed along behind his friend until they came to the first door. Geran knocked on it and held his pillowcase open in front of himself.
"What are you doing?" hissed Obi-Wan.
"Watch."
Obi-Wan stepped back as the door opened, a tall, dour looking man peering out at them.
"Serenity or turmoil." Geran's voice rang out clearly and Obi-Wan looked at his friend, wondering if he'd lost his mind. He moved forward, hand on Geran's arm, ready to pull him back when the old Jedi smiled and slipped a couple of items into Geran's pillowcase.
"Thank you," called out Geran as the door closed.
"What was that he gave you?" asked Obi-Wan.
Geran pulled out the two items, waving them under Obi-Wan's nose.
"Candy? He gave you candy?"
"Yep. And my source says so will everyone else as long as we remember to use the code words."
"Why?" asked Obi-Wan suspiciously.
Geran shrugged. "I don't know, I didn't ask."
"Why not?"
"People are handing out candy, Obi-Wan. You don't ask why, you just get a pillow case and fill it up."
Obi-Wan thought about it for a moment as Geran proceeded to the next door and knocked boldly. As the door opened, he ran to stand beside his friend, their voices joining together, pillowcases at the ready.
End.