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Archive: MA only
Category: Alternate Reality, Angst, Qui/Obi, Romance, Series
Rating: PG
Summary: Between two worlds...
Series: Academic Arcadia -- # 70
A chronological list of the series with the URLs can be found under the header 'Academic Arcadia' at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/master-apprentice/files/
My MA story page: http://www.masterapprentice.org/cgi-bin/qs.cgi?keyword=Merry+Amelie
Feedback: Is treasured at MerryAmelie@aol.com Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
To Alex, Ula, and Nerowill, my friends and betas extraordinaire
Three family weddings, two first communions, a christening, eleven birthday celebrations: the spoils of Quinn's silence for the two years, nine months, and nineteen days he and Ian had been together. Though happy to be with his relatives, guilt and remorse were fellow guests at every gathering he attended. Each Masterson smile felt undeserved.
Growing up in a straight world, Quinn had accepted the need for certain polite fictions, but they weighed on his conscience nonetheless. He'd always held himself to a strict standard of truthfulness in everything else, and the contrast galled him. And when he'd gone from shielding himself to Ian as well, the stakes had grown dauntingly higher. Their recent boldness had translated into a new confidence with his parents, not an easing of his burdens.
These were not emotions he shared with Ian. He always came back to his husband with a smile, glad that Ian had been spared his delicate negotiation between two worlds. He'd long ago resolved to protect his lad as much as possible from the cost of their decisions, and remained determined to do so.
Yet somehow Ian always knew. When Quinn came home, Ian's touch was a little gentler, his hug a little longer, his kiss a little sweeter. Quinn felt it all, and this deep comfort went a long way towards soothing him after these unsettling visits.
He had to keep the important facts in mind. His parents were almost seventy now, and Quinn was their only child. They had no one else to take care of them as they aged, unless one of his cousins were to step forward. If they rejected him for his choices, they would suffer more than Quinn.
He had progressively been taking on more chores for them: bookkeeping and filing their taxes, handyman tinkering that couldn't wait for the super, driving them to the doctor. They would keenly feel his absence in a practical way, even if their hearts had closed to him.
The reality of their need for him was the decisive factor in his silence, even more than his own for them. Emotional need could not be discounted. He'd always felt how much his parents loved him, and returned it in full. It would be a terrible loss for all of them to be cut off from that love, which had sustained them for thirty-five years now.
It was all in Quinn's hands. His choices were both untenable: honesty that would destroy their family, or an uneasy silence, oppressive and unending. The price seemed higher every day.
Ian would have known that Quinn had seen his parents even if he hadn't said a word. Quinn's smile was there, but so was the tension in his jaw, the indefinable sadness in his eyes.
Glad that they were at home, Ian took off Quinn's jacket and put it on a peg, then held out his arms to his vernoya. Quinn surged into them, eager to be gentled by Ian's lingering embrace. Warm fire, warmer Ian. A loving kiss to his creased brow, a pat to his taut back, then Ian led them to the fireside and eased Quinn's head into his lap. Thanks to Ian's insistence on Quinn's comfort, the couch was long enough for Quinn to relax with legs unbent.
Ian's right hand soothed through Quinn's hair, while his left stroked under his husband's sweatshirt, tender little touches that translated to love even more sweetly than Elvish.
Sadness had already faded from the blue eyes wedded to his own, yielding to the light of love.