Archive: master_apprentice, World O' Pretty Boys, anyone else,
pls. ask
Author's web page: http://www.ravenswing.com/ravendreams/
Category: Angst, POV
Rating: G
Warnings: Post TPM, that scene that didn't happen,
happened.
Pairing: Q/O
Spoilers: none
Summary: Obi-Wan returns home after Naboo
Notes: Thanks, as always, to Velma for the beta. All mistakes
are mine
Feedback: Waited for with bated breath.
Disclaimers: Lucas owns it all. I don't have enough money to
pay attention.
Do you remember the first time I stood in front of this door,
Master?
I was just on the close side of thirteen, so young, so scared
of disappointing you. You seemed so tall and grim. I hadn't
learned your smiles yet, hadn't learned the hints of hidden
laughter.
You stood with me, hand on my shoulder, and we stood here for a
moment together. I know now that you were entering my code into
the locks, making these rooms mine. In my memory, though, I
prefer to think of it as waiting for the perfect moment to
start our training, our lives together.
I wanted so much to be everything you needed me to be. I wanted
to be the perfect apprentice for you. It took me years to
understand that you wanted me to be Obi-Wan, that you loved the
mistakes of me with the same passion that you gave my
successes.
I didn't understand then, as I do now, how my life would
change.
I knew it would be difficult. I expected the hard work, the
harsh conditions, the sleepless nights. The cold floors, the
endless exercises, the impossible tests -- those I was warned
of, readied for.
What I didn't expect was the joy.
I didn't understand how standing beside you would transform me.
How a nod or a smile indicating a job well done would alter my
day. No one warns you, when you're an initiate, that the simple
act of making tea on a cold morning can be a meditation of joy.
I did not know the simple duties of two lives shared would undo
me.
That first time I stood in front of this door, I trembled from
the unknown and you were there to walk with me.
I remember the first time we walked through this door not as
master and padawan, but as intended lovers. Do you remember,
Qui-Gon?
We had been stepping around ourselves, dancing around truths
and wants and needs. I kept expecting something huge to happen,
to cause a change. Instead, one day over noon-meal, our hands
met, intertwined, and it was settled. No flashes of light, no
bells ringing. We finished our day, we didn't speak of it, and
finally we were standing here, at our door, hand in hand.
You turned to me and your eyes were smiling. I could feel the
Force around us, bubbling with happiness. I had expected
passion to have a wild taste, to feel somehow bitter underneath
my tongue. When our lips met, I was simply coming home.
We kissed outside this door for what I remember to be hours. My
hands were in your hair; your arms were surrounding me. You
smelled of incense and soap. Your mustache brushed my upper
lip. I found that ticklish spot underneath your right ear for
the first time.
When we pulled apart, I could feel your heat, your intensity. I
felt gawkish, young. Passion was well known to me, but
underneath your gaze my experience seemed like a child's play.
My heart was banging against my rib cage and I felt a moment of
panic. What if I was wasn't enough, wasn't what you needed?
You cupped your hand around my jaw, stroked my cheek with your
thumb and smiled.
I smiled back and reached to open our door.
As I stood in front of this door, about to become your lover, I
trembled and you were there to walk with me.
I stand in front of this door as a knight for the first time.
I still miss my braid.
I still miss you.
I wear my knighthood uncomfortably, like a stiff pair of new
boots. The thought of not being your padawan leaves raw
blisters within me, a constant, low ache.
I stand here, my padawan at my side, entering his code into the
locks. I cannot help but wonder if he's imagining his new life,
his new beginning. Will he remember this as waiting for the
perfect moment to start our training together?
That thought tastes bitter, because it holds the residue of
your ashes.
I dread the moment when this door will open, barraging me with
the smell of you, the memory of you. I will still find your
shed hairs on our pillows. Your favorite tea will be sitting on
the cabinet, waiting to comfort you. You, the very essence of
you, will be sunk into every plane of our rooms, waiting to
start a slow dissolving into forgetfulness.
Absently, I wonder if I stay here, if this door never opens,
will the ache you left behind stop growing?
Anakin bounces on his toes, an excited grin on his face,
reminding me of my responsibilities to you and to him. He wants
to start his formal training, to become a Jedi. I can feel his
eagerness, his need to please and care for me. He is ready to
come home.
I wish I could come home.
I stand in front of this door, about to begin life after you. I
tremble and walk in, Anakin following behind me.
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