Categories:Humor/Parody, with a dash of unexpected sappiness
Rating:PG? They're just toys, for goodness sake :)
Spoilers:Absolutely none at all, though there are some
references that will make more sense if you've read the
original Toy Story available now at your friendly neighborhood
archive.
Notes:Back in late October of 1999, a group of M_Aers from the
Southern California area got together for lunch at the
Rainforest Cafe, among other activities. At that time, my Qui
doll was still lonely because of the lack of Obis in toy
stores. But then, along came one of those listsibs with a
little surprise and all was well. During the ensuing afternoon,
the dolls spent most of their time in strange positions on top
of our restaurant table, due to the twisted talents of Megan
(duct tape) and Sheila (Ophie). Pictures available upon
request. Afterwards, someone proposed that a story should be
written from their points of views about that particular day.
Two months later, here it is.
I Spy:A featured cameo for the first person who can guess which
Ewan movie was playing on my VCR for the majority of the
writing of this little thing, hence influencing more than a bit
of the characterization. Heck, I all but stole the last scene
in the fic from it...
Thanks:To the lovely Holly and the Miriam for their thorough
and insightful betas. Masters of the written word and angels to
boot, you guys truly rock. huggles
Summary:12-inch Qui finally meets his Obi, and sparks fly.
Feedback: Is yummilicious. Please please please?
Obi-Wan was nervous. He knew it wasn't very Jedi-like to
fidget, but that was the only thing he was capable of doing to
relieve his apprehension, given the fact that all his limbs
were bound with plastic twisty-ties. He wasn't even sure how
he'd gotten into this predicament.
Less than a day ago, he had been assigned to a mission on
Toysarius, negotiating a very sensitive peace treaty between
the Furbys of Aisle Seven and the Teletubbies of Aisle Nine. It
was a potentially explosive situation to be handled with the
greatest of diplomatic delicacy, considering neither species
seemed capable of speaking in an intelligible tongue. With the
hostile hordes of Pokemon invading from the north end of their
territory, it had been absolutely necessary that these two
species put aside their differences and unite to form a
defensive militia at once.
Things had been touch and go for a while until, with his
boundless Jedi ingenuity, Obi-Wan had finally managed to hammer
out a makeshift language based on figures drawn with an
Etch-a-Sketch and supplemented by 3D models constructed from a
kit of Lego building blocks. The foundations had gradually been
laid for what looked to be a very promising partnership.
Then he had heard it -- a loud squeal of joy, followed by the
sound of footsteps coming in his direction. He froze in place,
hoping the others would know to do likewise. Before he could
even turn around to check, though, The Hand seized him.
"There you are, Obi! What do you think you're doing down here
with all the pre-school toys? No wonder everybody's been having
such a hard time getting ahold of you, if you're hiding out in
random places like that..."
As his captor continued babbling on, Obi-Wan saw that he was
being carried down the aisle toward the cash registers. That
was not good. The Council would think that he'd failed his
mission if he didn't finish up and report back to them. He
needed to make a quick escape. He kept his eyes peeled, waiting
for the perfect opportunity to present itself.
After reaching the checkout lane and placing her purchase on
the counter for the next available customer representative,
Obi-Wan's captor took a few steps away to browse through the
magazine rack. Seeing his opening, the intrepid Jedi apprentice
gauged the distance to the floor, gathered the Force, and took
a flying jump.
Unfortunately, his elasticized robe snagged on a protruding
hook which he had failed to notice in his hasty survey. The
padawan found himself hanging rather awkwardly upside down from
the checkout desk. bobbing dangerously close to a display of
revolting Gungan tongue candy. Obi-Wan flailed, muttering some
rather un-Jedi-like things in the process. His abductor turned
around at the noise, frowned at how he had managed to end up in
such a peculiar position, and proceeded to disentangle him
while the line behind her waited impatiently. Upon further
contemplation, she then decided to place her rather
accident-prone acquisition back in his original packaging to
avoid any other mishaps in the near future.
Something sounding distinctly like "poodoo!" came from the toy
box as it was stuffed into a brightly coloured shopping bag.
This is absolutely preposterous, Qui-Gon was thinking.
Things like these always seemed to happen at the most
inappropriate moments. His human landlord hadn't even given him
an excuse when she'd abruptly extracted him from the grasp of a
very amorous Indiana Jones figure. His accusatory glare had
only earned him a terse remark regarding how she would be
tempted to have him neutered if he had actually been
anatomically correct. Qui-Gon winced at the memory. That had
been a very low blow, so to speak. Besides which, what right
had she to deny him this harmless little interlude? Jedi Master
he might be, but he was also a living, breathing toy with a
completely healthy set of needs and desires. Needs and desires,
he thought grouchily, which were just in the process of being
met when he'd been so rudely interrupted.
Turning back to his erstwhile suitor, he put on a beseeching
"will you wait for me, darling?" look... and found that his
ardent archaeologist was already heading off in the direction
of He-Man's Castle of Power, obviously looking for better
prospects. Qui-Gon frowned. Well, the fellow had been a little
too rough around the edges for his taste anyway, he soothed
himself. Little hussy, the tiny voice at the back of his
head added.
Shortly thereafter, he was plopped very brusquely into a large
shopping bag and left to keep company with a stack of assorted
stationery items, a rather mangy-looking stuffed plot bunny,
and those thrice-bedamned Jedi Duel Action Figures. At least,
Qui-Gon noted, the pestiferous little miniatures were too
busily engaged in a Force-enhanced version of Kama Sutra page
167 to goad him any further about his padawanlessness.
He turned his back to them, trying to steer his concentration
into alternate avenues as he tuned out the sound of vigorously
squeaking plastic joints. Pausing to examine the stack of shiny
cardboard folders next to him, he noticed vainly that his
rather striking visage was plastered across their fronts. He
made a mental note to commend his landlord on her good taste
after he was done being affronted by her insulting behaviour.
A few hours later, the Jedi Master started from the meditative
calm he'd gradually slipped into whilst contemplating his
picture. The slightly narcissistic glaze cleared from his eyes
as he realized that the engine had ceased running. It seemed
that they were now being transported by foot into a larger,
noisier and decidedly more populated area. He glanced behind
him and saw that the action figures had decided to shift their
activities to a more comfortable setting and were now going at
it on top of a pile of doll clothes in one corner. Queen
Amidala would not be pleased with such inventive use of her
wardrobe, Qui-Gon mused.
He climbed up over the folders and peeked out over the edge of
the bag to get a better view of the dealings going on outside.
The utterly contemptible person who had brought him here was
now chatting animatedly with a group of other women. One of
whom, he noticed, was wearing a particularly fashionable shirt
with his image on it. It seemed that he had been abandoned to
his own devices. The Jedi Master sat back with a frustrated
sigh. This would be a long day.
He was just about to clamber out and do a bit of exploration on
his own when he saw another person approaching the gaggle
already milling around above him. While the woman was pleasant
enough in her own perky blonde way, it was what she was
carrying in her right hand which caught his full attention.
There, half protruding from the bag and still in a glossy black
logo- emblazoned manufacturer's box, was a vision of loveliness
beyond any he had ever imagined.
Golden-brown hair glinted in the indoor fluorescent lighting.
Eyes the colour of stormy seas, slightly dazed and
frantic-looking, peered intently out at the world beyond. Lips
set in a distinct pout, an adorably dimpled little chin, and a
long auburn plait hanging down to the chest. Qui-Gon's mouth
dropped open and his heart did a backflip.
The bag drew closer to him as the woman came to a stop. He
hoisted himself up to get a better look. Glancing across, the
Jedi Master was startled to find himself locked eye-to-eye with
the bewitching creature in the box. All words fell away and he
knew, then and there, that in this gaze lay the completion of
his lifelong search.
Obi-Wan gave a sigh of relief when he saw that they had arrived
at what was apparently their final destination. Quite honestly,
he had been getting more than a little green around the gills
from being swung so violently back and forth in this maddening
cardboard prison. He wriggled his wrists vainly in the hope
that his restraints might have loosened during the journey. No
such luck. No amount of Force-enhanced finesse seemed to help
in slackening the ties. The padawan caught himself in mid-curse
and reminded himself not to center on his anxieties, knowing
that he should be saving his strength for the right moment to
make his escape. Then he decided to curse anyway.
Or rather, he was about to decide to curse anyway, but never
quite got around to it. Because at that very moment, his
desperately darting eyes lit upon a sight which simply took his
breath away.
Blue. They were dark blue. A shade of cobalt so rich that,
until today, he'd only seen its kind on the fine tapestries and
gilded flatware of royalty. But, no, this blue didn't belong
behind a glass case -- it was too thoroughly suffused with a
quality of warmth and life. The eyes within which this
miraculous hue resided spoke intimately of one who had a deep
and dynamic connection with everything and everyone who entered
his existence. And at the same time, they spoke of a spirit
which was in perfect tune with the Force that encompassed and
transcended them all.
Feeling more than a little dizzy, Obi-Wan suddenly remembered
that respiration was a good thing. Consequently, he took a few
deep breaths. The sudden influx of oxygen, combined with his
serious case of nausea and a badly jangled set of nerves, had a
fairly detrimental effect. With hardly a moment in which to
resume his curse, the Jedi padawan abruptly slumped forward,
unconscious, still firmly trussed up in the carton.
Everything after that point, Qui-Gon would later reflect,
happened with the heart-poundingly slow clarity and
inevitability of a recurring dream. It was as if his whole life
had been lived only for the purpose of leading up to this
moment. Perhaps it had. How many times had he imagined this
meeting and its aftermath? How many times had he envisioned the
exact circumstances, how often had he rehearsed what he would
say? How much had he struggled to simply convey the depth of
his emotions... to one whom he hadn't even known existed, as
anything more than a wish, until today?
And as with almost every other fateful world-twisting event
throughout the annals of history, he hadn't even realized it
was happening until he was too far in to have any influence
over the situation.
For one thing, they wouldn't be having their first encounter
under gaudy neon lights, in a shopping center which looked like
the evil spawn of an union between Las Vegas and the Home
Shopping Network. Neither would it have been his first
inclination to have his beloved arrive in his arms pallid and
unconscious. Well, not at this juncture, at any rate. Having
the crowd of spectators watching them the entire time wasn't
particularly pleasant, either -- though, once again, he
considered the possibility of revising that statement at a
future date. As for the prolonged and tedious process of
removing the padawan from his bonds... No, come to think of it,
that had been rather fun. He'd have to remember to salvage
those ties before they left for the evening. Qui-Gon blinked
and shook his head.
Well, he still hadn't like the lights.
EPILOGUE
He regained consciousness bit by agonizingly slow bit, his head
feeling like it was stuffed with foam rubber. Where was he? He
tentatively stretched his arms, and found that he could move
them freely. Not in the box, then. Against his back, he felt a
cool smooth surface. Slightly curved. He shivered a little,
wondering why he was only wearing his thin undertunic. Where
was the rest of his clothing? He steadied himself with one hand
upon the sturdy wall of glass behind him and gingerly pulled
himself upright into sitting position. His head swam, and
clenched his jaw, willing himself to stay awake. Seconds later,
it passed.
Feeling slightly more confident, he cracked open one eye
experimentally, waited for it to focus, then frowned. No, this
couldn't be right. He opened the other eye, stared, then
blinked. Standard-issue Jedi garb was strewn everywhere in a
wide circle around him. More than one set, he noticed with an
air of puzzlement.
Off to one side, a large pile of beige suddenly stirred and
turned around to face him. He blinked again. He'd seen this man
before, somewhere. Knew him somehow. In fact, though it didn't
make a bit of sense, it seemed like he'd always known him. With
a start, he realized that the other fellow wasn't wearing too
much clothing, either. Oh my...
"Oh my god, what happened?!"
The handsome older man beside him yawned and gave him a warm
smile. "You were great."
A look of baffled disbelief crossed his face. "I was?"
The bearded man nodded.
"Oh..." He felt another dizzy spell coming on.
"Shh, I'll explain later." The other Jedi, for that was surely
what he was, pulled him into his lap and cradled his head
against one broad shoulder. "All in good time, padawan. All in
good time."
After a moment, he looked up again at the knight... no, with
the amount of grey in his hair, he had to be a master. "I know
this is bound to sound awkward, master, sir, but err... hi, my
name is Ob..."
The man nodded. "Obi-Wan Kenobi. I know. I've been waiting for
you for a while now. And I'm Qui-Gon Jinn." The man paused,
studying him curiously with his intense blue gaze. "But you
already knew that, didn't you?"
Obi-Wan's brow furrowed in thought, and he snuggled up closer
to his master. Yes, come to think of it, he always had.
~finis~
--
Dedicated to Zee, the Great Jedi Matchmaker, and the folks from
the Southern California M_A Gatherings, who made sure Obi and
Qui had plenty of fun on their first date.
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