Their meditation had concluded peacefully. Obi-Wan had done
his best to concentrate on his own thoughts, keeping them as
separate as he could from his master's. A difficult task when
the two of them were so close, but it would do no good to
eavesdrop on his master's problems when it was his own that he
needed to deal with.
But, indeed, he had already been thinking of these issues for
a great deal of time, and did not need much meditation to
examine his feelings.
He loved Qui-Gon, and had no doubts about that. He was
absolutely sure of it, and would be absolutely sure of it for
the rest of his life, he thought. Especially now.
Being bonded for life to Qui-Gon seemed like a wonderful thing
rather than anything to dread. He would always have his master,
even after he became a knight. There would be no separation, no
painful parting when he left his apprentice status behind. They
would be together.
He discounted the warnings in the reading he had done about
the painful aspects of a soul bond. He had already experienced
the pain of Qui-Gon abandoning him, and the fear of being
rejected; any pain the soul bond might bring could not eclipse
that.
In all, Obi-Wan was content with the situation, and instead
chose to meditate on the one topic that he still could not
think of without embarrassment and anxiety -- mastering the
physical aspect of their bond.
Qui-Gon had confirmed what Obi-Wan had only suspected -- sex
would be involved.
Sex. With Qui-Gon. With the man he loved more than any other,
had thought he was losing only a few short days ago.
It was an awe-inspiring and almost terrifying thought.
Obi-Wan had examined his fear very carefully. Fear could
destroy them.
What exactly was he afraid of? Being rejected? Not likely to
happen. Being clumsy or incapable? This was not Obi-Wan's first
encounter with physical pleasure, nor even his fifth. He knew
what to do and how to do it, and did not think inexperience
would be a concern. That it was Qui-Gon who would be his
partner would make things different however. He could well
imagine fumbling with Qui-Gon.
Obi-Wan had kept his breathing even only with an effort.
Carefully, he resigned himself to clumsiness and awkwardness.
His usual grace should stand him in good stead, but if it did
not, then he had to accept that he was fallible and that things
could and did go wrong in real life. As opposed to fantasies,
where everything went right.
The difference, however, between reality and fantasy was that,
this time, afterward, he would have someone holding him,
someone whom he loved.
Obi-Wan's meditations brought him peace.
It was what Qui-Gon had said after their meditation that had
left Obi-Wan unable to speak.
Qui-Gon was waiting for an answer even now, standing over him
in the common area of their quarters.
"You were not able to sleep last night, and I slept well. Why
do you think that is, padawan?" a deceptively mild voice had
asked.
Because he'd been working on his poem was the obvious answer.
But he had tried to sleep both before and after that, and had
not succeeded in anything more than a fitful, restless slumber.
He had been missing something the whole time, and even when he
was awake, he had kept reaching out to touch Qui-Gon's sleeping
mind to reassure himself of his master's presence.
He hadn't been able to sleep because he had needed Qui-Gon?
The thought was read. "I believe so, Obi-Wan. I also believe
that you may be been encouraging my sleep in some way."
By misusing my abilities? I wouldn't -- I hope I
didn't--
Calm wrapped around him. No, Obi-Wan. I think you,
consciously or subconsciously, aided my sleep by reassuring me
of your presence. You could not do it for yourself, probably
because of the bond being unacknowledged then, but possibly
because your mind was unable to bridge the distance between
us.
Obi-Wan nodded, unsure what he was supposed to say to that.
I do not want you to miss your sleep again, and so, I
believe the obvious solution, given that my bed is bigger than
yours, is for you to join me in my slumbers.
His heart was pounding fast, and he felt dizzy again. So maybe
he hadn't dealt with his anxiety as well as he'd thought.
Oh, yes, master.
Qui-Gon's eyes twinkled. "Good. I am glad to have that
resolved. Please feel free to join me when you are ready."
With that, Qui-Gon disappeared into his own room, leaving
Obi-Wan to stare after him like a Tuskan raider deprived of its
prey.
He's waiting for me. Qui-Gon is waiting for me.
Obi-Wan wanted to dance, wanted to leap into the air and
perform some acrobatics that most definitely would be showing
off, although only to himself, but breathed deeply instead and
controlled himself.
All except for the smile on his face that would not go away.
Within a few minutes, he had readied himself for bed, then
picked up an extra pillow and went to the door of Qui-Gon's
sleeping room. Master?
Come in, Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan stepped inside, wearing both the light leggings he
customarily wore to bed, as well as an undertunic hastily
pulled from his supply of clothing. His master, however, was
wearing nothing but the scrap of fabric wrapped around his
hips.
Obi-Wan tried not to whimper.
He felt his master's tolerant amusement at his reaction, and
let the tunic slip to the floor. No need of that, if Qui-Gon
was going to look like this.
He'd seen the other man's body before, and had experienced it
in his imagination, but it was something different to see that
powerful, lanky, muscular body and know that it would
shortly be joined with his.
This time, Obi-Wan did whimper.
Qui-Gon pulled back the light covering from the bed, and sat
down. He patted the other side of the bed. "Sit here, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan tried not to stumble over his own feet, and sat,
putting the pillow down.
His master let his back rest against the wall behind the head
of the bed, and regarded Obi-Wan calmly. "Are you all right, my
padawan?"
Obi-Wan blushed, knowing that Qui-Gon had overheard all of his
internal monologue. "I'm fine -- I will be fine,
master."
"In time." I am only asking you to sleep here, with me, for
the comfort both of us. You need not be apprehensive about the
morrow, or anything that may happen in the future beyond that
day.
His need for his master looked like fear?
Is it need then?
Yes, master. Obi-Wan swallowed the arousal he felt.
Qui-Gon was being sensible. They were going to share a bed,
nothing more. This had happened on other occasions. He had
slept with Qui-Gon before. However, he had not felt as
sensitized then to his master's every movement, every breath,
as he did now.
Qui-Gon turned more toward Obi-Wan, who was still perching on
the edge of the bed. It was clear to Obi-Wan that, despite his
attempt to hide his desire, his master had felt it, or at least
part of it, anyway.
Desire is a good thing, Obi-Wan. It would make things very
difficult if you did not want me.
How could I not want you? Obi-Wan asked, without
needing to think about it. You are... Images, words and
memories paraded through his mind. His master was wise,
handsome, capable... A memory of Qui-Gon in formal garb at a
Republic function came to him, tall and imposing. Then of
Qui-Gon stepping out of a snowstorm, protective and very much
needed at that time. Yes, he loved his master, and wanted him.
How could he not?
You honor me, Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan allowed himself to be pulled more fully onto the bed
by that warm regard. Not more than you deserve.
Eventually, my padawan, Qui-Gon said, lying down on the
bed, you will come to understand that I am only a man, much
like any other. He pulled the top covering over himself.
Obi-Wan felt somewhat calmer now that Qui-Gon was going
through the motions of readying himself for bed. Qui-Gon lying
down under a light blanket was much less threatening to his
composure than Qui-Gon sitting up on the bed, for all the world
looking like he was waiting for Obi-Wan to dive into his arms.
If only he could.
Soon, my impatient padawan. Now, please, come to bed. It is
late, and we need our sleep.
Obi-Wan laid down cautiously, but did not pull the bed
covering over him. He preferred to sleep without covering in
the temperature-controlled climate of their rooms. In that, he
would be fine here. But Qui-Gon would be lying next to him, and
he was hyper-aware of his master's body only inches from his
own. How can I sleep like this?
You close your eyes, and center your mind. Or I could put
you to sleep.
I'll center my mind, thank you, master. He wasn't sure
that he could fall asleep so simply, but it was surprisingly
easy to let himself drift away, even with -- or especially with
-- Qui-Gon lying next to him.
He was comfortable, and the other half of himself that had
felt so far away yesterday night was right there where Obi-Wan
needed his master to be.
Qui-Gon's dreams were less than peaceful. The bond and his
memories of the past featured prominently. He had seen Xanatos
with Obi-Wan's face, taunting him over his feelings, and
telling him that Xanatos had never cared for him, and that
Obi-Wan's caring for him would soon turn to disgust when he
discovered the real Qui-Gon.
Yes, it had been a bad night.
And so it was, when he woke suddenly from dark dreams to find
Obi-Wan in his bed, curled next to him with one hand clutching
onto Qui-Gon's forearm, that Qui-Gon was, for one of the few
times in his life, disoriented.
He always came out of his dreams without transition, and he
had a Jedi sense of place to know where he was --
disorientation should not happen.
And yet it did, and as he looked over at Obi-Wan's sleeping
form, he gradually remembered why and how Obi-Wan had come to
be there.
Last night, he had asked Obi-Wan to sleep here with him, to
ease both of their rests. It had not worked well for him. He
had slept, but with the knowledge of their uncompleted bond
hammering at him.
They were still on a path for disaster, as long as the soul
bond remained uncompleted.
And as long as he could not master his own emotions. He
remembered dreaming of Xanatos, and knew that he had not fully
dealt with his past, despite his words to Obi-Wan and the poem
he had written, expressing his new understanding of his
situation. He would have to do better than that. The next step
in the bonding ritual was the mastering of the emotional, and
he bore the greater part of the responsibility there.
He should meditate now, before Obi-Wan awoke and prepare
himself further for the day to come, but instead, he laid there
next to his padawan, basking in the brightness of a morning
with Obi-Wan in it.
Obi-Wan woke more slowly from his dreams than his master. He'd
slept well, being worn out from lack of sleep the night before
this one. Jedi resources could compensate for lack of sleep,
but that did not make replenishment of one's personal reserves
less important. One should be well-rested and ready to face
whatever might happen, not living on the edge to begin with.
So, when his dreams held the sensation of being cuddled close
to a warm body and feeling well-loved all the way through, it
was little surprise to slowly fade from dreams into a waking
world where the same was true. Was, in fact, a gentle
transition, and scarcely noticed.
"Good morning, Obi-Wan."
The deep voice brought him out of his reverie. Obi-Wan met his
master's eyes and smiled sweetly. "Good morning, master."
For a moment he thought Qui-Gon might kiss him, and welcomed
it as yet one more moment in the succession of dreams he had
experienced during the night. It would be a natural
continuation of those pleasant shadows.
But then Qui-Gon got out of bed, and Obi-Wan had to follow.
Obi-Wan felt his master's lingering contentment, which he
shared, and some measure of distress as well, which he did not
understand. Had he done something to upset his master?
But Qui-Gon shut himself into their shared bathroom before he
could be questioned, and Obi-Wan retreated to his own room to
find clothing for the day, and a measure of composure. He'd
felt Qui-Gon's contentment, and his master had spoken no word
of disapproval. Obi-Wan didn't know what was wrong and it felt
awful. He hurt without knowing why.
When Obi-Wan came out of the bathroom, dressed and ready for
the day, he found his master sitting at the table in the common
room, eating breakfast. Obi-Wan took a seat next to him, and
began eating from the plate set out for him.
He ate quietly, doing his best to concentrate on the moment
and nothing else. It kept his thoughts clear. Qui-Gon obviously
wished for silence, and it was Obi-Wan's duty as his padawan to
obey him.
However, Obi-Wan was finally beginning to understand why
concentrating on nothing was an important skill to learn. If
you had no ability to shield, it was a good way to hide your
thoughts.
The only way.
He concentrated on eating his breakfast, and on being in the
now, to keep from bothering his master.
When they had finished with their silent breakfast, Obi-Wan
cleared the table. He still felt the same sense of distress
coming from his master, and now, with breakfast over and
nothing to focus his attention on, Obi-Wan felt that distress
turning his breakfast into nausea.
Qui-Gon's emotions pained him.
"It is a side effect of the bond," Qui-Gon said quietly, the
first to break the stillness that had grown between them. "Did
your reading cover it?"
"Yes, master. The text said that bonded pairs share feelings,
for good or ill. And that hate could be shared as easily as
joy."
"That is what you are experiencing now. And," Qui-Gon
continued mentally, we will experience the same thing during
the ritual of Mastering the Emotional.
Obi-Wan felt his master's own doubt about the ritual. Do
you believe that we cannot handle it, master?
I think that we are not prepared for it, or for what it
might lead to. Completing this ritual will leave us more open
to each other, not less. You will feel my emotions as I feel
yours. If you are experiencing problems now, then they will
likely become worse, not better.
His current illness, such as it was, came from experiencing
his Qui-Gon's negative emotions. Then I suppose I should
work on ensuring that you are always happy.
Qui-Gon shook his head, but a small smile had formed on his
features, one that was echoed in his emotions. The feeling of
distress eased. It is not that simple, padawan.
Obi-Wan wondered about that. He had been taught to see life as
being extremely simple indeed -- complexity was a web that
people wove over the elementary nature innate in the universe.
But his master was beckoning to him, and he followed Qui-Gon
out the door.
Etil was still not sure about this idea. True, they needed
help. And she understood their problems. But why in the name of
the Force did those two have to go and get themselves bonded?
It was precisely the wrong thing for them to have done in
their situation. Qui-Gon Jinn, a supposed master of Jedi ways,
kept himself closed off so firmly that she wouldn't have
believed he could even form a soul bond if she hadn't seen it
for herself. And being soul-bonded was only going to encourage
the boy's dependence problem. This was not a development she
liked.
But Master Qui-Gon had asked her this morning to do this, and
she did know the problem she was up against. And, given her
talk with Master Windu earlier, she didn't trust him to deal
properly with Qui-Gon. Windu didn't see the other man's
weaknesses, didn't know how to probe and get at what was
underneath Qui-Gon's surface calm. She did. And it was
too late to undo the bond. She'd known that much when she'd
seen them together that morning in the dining hall.
Her task today was only to monitor the ritual, to make sure
that neither participant was harmed. And, she thought, just
maybe to kick a certain Jedi master in his robes if he didn't
finally open up and complete the emotional part of the bonding
properly.
"Come in," she said, a second before the pair waiting in front
of her door could signal that they were there.
Qui-Gon entered first, the boy right behind him.
"So," she said, "you want to have a life-bond."
Her comment won her a slight grimace from the boy, although
Qui-Gon's face remained expressionless.
"All right, all right," she said, giving up her somewhat
childish attempt to tweak Qui-Gon's composure. "Sit down, and
let's get started."
They sat on the couch across from her chair, on opposite ends.
"This part of the bonding ritual is Mastering the Emotional.
You--" she nodded to Qui-Gon, "need to open up to your
apprentice."
Qui-Gon nodded. "I'm aware of my failings in this area."
"Good. That helps. You," she looked at Obi-Wan, "don't need to
worry about it. You're easy to read." She turned on Qui-Gon
again. "If you haven't already seen everything inside him, then
I don't know what's wrong with your perception."
She looked back at Obi-Wan. "And, for your information, what
I'm mostly going to do is to watch you two and make sure that
nothing goes wrong. Or if it does, that the healers get here
promptly. Other than that, ignore me. Now, go ahead."
Etil settled back in her chair, her fingertips of her left
hand touching the fingertips of her right, and closed her eyes,
the better to concentrate on the psychic plane. She had been
quite serious about saying that she would watch over them. And,
given their history, she had a feeling that they were going to
need it.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan closed their eyes as well, dropping into a
light rapport, much as though they were meditating, but
centering on each other. Their incomplete bond flared into life
around them, connecting them even more closely.
First, we must drop our shielding.
Drop it, master? Won't that leave us open to...
No, padawan. Master Etil will shield us now. We must be
completely open to each other.
Carefully, Obi-Wan dismantled his shielding. He never took it
completely down -- always he retained a minimal degree of
shielding around himself, and a tight degree of shielding
around his innermost thoughts. That was the way it was supposed
to be. But Qui-Gon had said to take all of his shielding down,
and he did, even the inner shields that he had little practice
in letting down because they always remained up.
The exercise was a test of his control, but Obi-Wan had been
expecting it ever since reading the text on soul-bonds, and
managed it finally.
When he was fully open, he let his concentration go, and
realized then that Qui-Gon was having problems.
His master's own concentration was turned away from him, on
Qui-Gon's own shielding. Obi-Wan probed delicately, trying to
see what the source of the difficulty was.
He was felt. Obi-Wan... came the reproving response.
Obi-Wan saw the problem. His master had unshielded the outer
layers of his mind, and had attempted to unshield the inner
layers, but was up now against a stubborn blockage that would
not move.
A feeling of resignation with welcome layered under it, and
then, ...as long as you're here, you may as well help.
Affection, love, happiness... if there were such a thing as a
mental grin, Obi-Wan would have worn one. Yes, master.
He visualized the blockage. It appeared as a wall made of
crumbling stones set one on top of each other, marked by age
with white scars and mossy growth. He felt his master's
strength pushing against the stones, attempting to batter a way
through the wall and knew, somehow, that force was the wrong
approach. The barrier became stronger with the more of
Qui-Gon's energy that was thrown at it. Let me, master.
Qui-Gon paused, acknowledging his apprentice's request, and
waited, gathering his strength for another attempt.
Obi-Wan reached out to the stones, feeling the heaviness of
the one under his hands, and again, sensed that the whole wall
was ready to collapse, that the stones themselves were tired of
standing. Let go, he soothed, unconcerned over whether
he was talking to the stones, what the stones might represent,
or to Qui-Gon himself. You are weary. You do not need to
stand any longer. You have done your duty, and done it well. It
is time to let go.
He felt them begin to waver. You have served your purpose.
You can rest now, he crooned softly.
And then they tumbled, ever so slowly, the wall gently falling
down before him.
Thank you, Obi-Wan, his master said. Qui-Gon continued
the ritual, consciously setting the remainder of his shielding
aside.
When he had finished, he turned his attention to Obi-Wan.
Now, padawan, we begin to master the emotional.
Shields down, it was not so much an effort to join with his
master's mind, as it was to keep some part of himself separate
and unabsorbed. Obi-Wan struggled with that, floundering in the
concept of how to keep his shields down while simultaneously
maintaining his personal integrity.
We will merge, must merge to complete this, Qui-Gon
reassured him. Do not guard against it.
Is it safe then?
No. It is a risk, and one we must take.
Obi-Wan acquiesced. He had been carefully holding himself
together as best he could, and now he let that go.
Qui-Gon's emotions and the memories tied most strongly to
those emotions were no longer only his master's, a separate
thing to observe and remark upon on, but something else,
something more.
Obi-Wan realized what as he touched on a previously hidden
place, something that he had never seen before from his master,
and fell into what could only be described as a memory of his
own.
Master? he managed weakly, before he was swept away
entirely.
He was in a dark, enclosed place. 'A mine', his memory
whispered to him. And a desperate boy was standing opposite
him.
"I have the transmitter," the boy said. "I can reactivate it.
If I push myself up against the door, the explosion should open
it. You might have time to evacuate the mine."
He felt a surge of pain that had nothing to do with the logic
of the boy's suggestion. One life for many. It was a sacrifice
he was prepared to make. A Jedi knew that such might be the
price of their lives, and indeed, dying in such a way accounted
for a large percentage of Jedi deaths.
"But you'll never survive the blast!" he exclaimed, horrified
for the boy.
The boy reached into his tunic for the transmitter. Calm and
balanced, he said, "Stand as far back as you can."
The boy was not a Jedi, would never be, here on Bandomeer. Was
this banishment so terrible that death was preferable?
Or, his mind whispered, was the boy already so much of a Jedi
that he knew his duty and would stick by it, even at his age,
even when the Jedi themselves had rejected him and set him
aside as not worthy of being part of their order? When Qui-Gon
himself had set the boy aside repeatedly?
"No, Padawan. There has to be another way," he said, realizing
only then that he had bonded with the young man, that the boy
was a part of him and that was why he could never let Obi-Wan
waste his life in such a fashion.
"There is no other way, and you know it," Obi-Wan said. "Now
stand back."
Qui-Gon's heart began to tear. "No! I will not!" He wondered
what he could say that would convince the boy. What words could
he find that would change Obi-Wan's mind? He drew on the
strength of their new bond, master to apprentice. "And I order
you not to do this."
Time skittered forward. Nothing he said changed things one
iota. Obi-Wan was determined, and the Force was with him.
Qui-Gon could not use it to stop him.
It was a nightmare. He was losing his padawan, losing the
first person he had been able to bond to since losing Xanatos
to the Dark Side. He would not let the nightmare win. The
nightmare...
He realized something. Xanatos' sign was on the seal panel for
the door.
"Wait," he said. He drew on Obi-Wan's strength through the
newfound bond, and envisioned the circle moving, meeting,
becoming whole once more, as Obi-Wan had made him whole by
finding a place in his heart when Qui-Gon had not been sure he
had a heart left. Obi-Wan's sacrifice was not necessary. He
would live, and so would Qui-Gon, and they could begin again
together.
The past would meet the future and create the present. That
was what mattered. Xanatos was past. Obi-Wan was now.
Obi-Wan.
He drifted up from the memory, no longer simply Qui-Gon's but
his as well. He slowly recognized that he was himself,
differentiated from his master, and asked softly, respectfully,
Is that how you truly feel about me, master?
The reply came from nowhere, everywhere. Qui-Gon's mental
voice surrounded him, completed him. Yes, Obi-Wan. That and
more.
Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon's feelings swell around him, found
Qui-Gon's pride and joy in him -- which had been there as early
on as Bandomeer and had never diminished. It was an approval so
global that it nearly stunned Obi-Wan.
Is it such a surprise, my padawan?
Before this moment, before they began this ritual, Obi-Wan
would have made a polite, but essentially disbelieving,
response. His master cared for him in a general sort of way, as
he had to do. It was part of their bond, part of what made
Qui-Gon his master, and it did not mean anything on the deep
level where Obi-Wan felt the most rejected and unwanted.
Now... this approval touched all parts of him, warmed him all
the way through. It was real, and made incredulous joy well up
within him. Joy touched heavily with the pain he'd hid for so
long, the pain that no longer applied, but demanded to be
acknowledged.
He was met with his master's love and support, blanketed in
it, until the pain had faded, and all of the tears that would
have been shed, had they been fully in their bodies, had
fallen.
Thank you, master.
Qui-Gon's response was non-verbal, purely emotional, and
Obi-Wan felt himself again being engulfed by his master's
memories.
This time, he felt Qui-Gon with him, a bulwarking presence
that helped him retain the distance from the memory to know
that it was not his, but his master's.
He stared out at the blackness of space, mentally cataloguing
the visible stars, while his heart burned with pain.
Behind him, his apprentice paced. "Why, Qui-Gon, why?"
"I do not know," he repeated again, hoping it would be enough
this time, and knowing that it would not. Xanatos' trust did
not extend this far, apparently. "The Council has made their
decision. We must complete this mission first."
"The Council?" Xanatos pounced upon that word immediately.
Yoda had told Qui-Gon not to reveal that this final mission was
a test for his apprentice, to say only that they must complete
it. Qui-Gon had said too much.
"The mission is necessary, and of course, mandated by the
Council," Qui-Gon amended, trying to cover his slip. Not that
he believed there was anything that needed hiding -- Xanatos
was the perfect padawan, and would no doubt handle this mission
with ease. His success would finally convince Yoda of what
Qui-Gon already knew, that Xanatos was ready to be a Jedi
knight.
He did not like keeping secrets from his apprentice, and liked
it less still that so many obstacles had been thrown in
Xanatos' way.
For when Xanatos became a knight, Qui-Gon intended to reveal
the depths of his love to his apprentice, a love Xanatos
already suspected, and that Qui-Gon thought he shared.
And then time twisted again, and they were no longer aboard
the ship, but instead, in the battle-scarred mansion. Qui-Gon
stood over Xanatos' fallen body, lightsaber in hand.
Xanatos had betrayed the Jedi, attempted to make war on a
planet, then fought a costly civil war... and Qui-Gon had been
forced to kill his apprentice's father.
He stared down at the still body of the man he loved, and his
heart ached further. Now he understood what it had been
trying to tell him, what everyone had been trying to tell him.
Xanatos had gone over to the Dark Side, a trip from which Jedi
history taught that there was no return. And a Jedi, an
apprentice ready to become a knight all but for his personal
failings, would be a powerful force indeed for the Dark. One
Qui-Gon had vowed his life to battle.
It was his duty to kill the man lying on the floor. His duty
to kill the man he loved.
It was his soul tearing apart here. He wavered, searching for
any sign of good left in Xanatos, for any sign of the man he
knew Xanatos to be, for the love he had wanted to share until
the end of his life...
And Xanatos laughed.
A bitter, hollow sound, with ugly edges that left Qui-Gon
feeling sick.
"You can't do it, can you, old man? Because of the 'love' that
you bear me. As if I would ever love you. As if I could ever
love my father's murderer."
'Love' sounded like bantha fodder in Xanatos' mouth, a
diseased twisted thing that Qui-Gon's mind flinched away from.
This was not love, was not what he had imagined, and something
died in him then, something that might have been precious.
Xanatos picked himself up and ran out of the room.
And Qui-Gon stared at the place on the floor where Xanatos had
been, where all that he had hoped for in love had been, seeing
nothing until another opponent entered the room.
Nooooo! Obi-Wan screamed, wanting to fight, wanting to
do something to erase those terrible memories, but it
was a memory, and there was nothing he could do. It was past,
and the past could not be changed.
Only dealt with, Qui-Gon's quiet voice said. I am
sorry you had to see that, Obi-Wan. It is not one of the best
moments in my life.
You survived...
With the knowledge that I was wrong, wrong about everything
important.
Obi-Wan sent his support to Qui-Gon, giving of himself as
thoroughly as could, trying to show with that gift how much he
loved his master, how deeply and true his feelings ran. You
told me before. I knew what had happened, but not how you felt.
Master, I am so...
If you say that you're sorry, padawan, I shall be very
upset with you.
But his master's mind did not feel upset, it felt instead like
he was being affectionately teasing, and Obi-Wan drew the
memory of this morning around them for comfort.
Obi-Wan smiled into the pillow, feeling well-loved in the
eternal moment of the morning, connected to his master, his
love, with his fingers on Qui-Gon's arm.
Yes, that was a good moment.
There will be more to come, Obi-Wan said, knowing it to
be true. They had the rest of their lives.
Obi-Wan wanted to bring another good moment to the fore, to
share more happiness with his master. But it was not a good
memory surfacing between them now.
Not that, master, Obi-Wan said, protesting the change
back into strained, sorrowful memories.
The difficult emotions and memories are the ones we most
need to face. Like a Jedi must face fear, as a bonded couple,
we must be able to face fear and other negative emotions in
each other as well as ourselves.
Yes, master.
And then the memory took control.
He stood in the recessed alcove, and overheard the
conversation between the young woman and the chancellor. Jedi
senses and training picked it up. Good conscience and the same
training told him that he should not listen -- but watching
Qui-Gon for the past three years had shown him that a Jedi
needed all of the information he could collect in order to make
correct decisions.
He stilled himself, forgetting about the simple task his
master had set him, of delivering a sealed message to the
chancellor, and gave his attention to the dialogue taking place
a few feet from him.
"No, Gila. I cannot do that. Tradition dictates..."
"Does tradition dictate that a man die because of an ancient
law that only scholars honor?"
Dryly, the chancellor answered, "Yes, Gila. That is the
meaning of tradition."
A snort came from the hallway, and then angry feet pounded
past him.
Obi-Wan did not consider his errand, but ran after her
immediately.
He caught up with her at the end of the hallway, staring out
of the window there, tears in her eyes.
"Excuse me? Gila, is it? I couldn't help but hear you
talking..."
"If you're going to tell me that my father's death is meant to
be and that I should resign myself to it, save it. I don't want
to hear it."
Obi-Wan stepped closer to her, examining her features. She had
the blue hair and large eyes typical to her world, and he
noticed also that she appeared to be only a few years older
than he. Assuming that the people of this planet aged similarly
to his own race. Obi-Wan hadn't completed all of his background
reading for this mission, something he hoped Qui-Gon wouldn't
find out about, at least, not before he finished it.
"What's wrong? What did your father do?" he asked.
"You don't know?" she asked, turning to truly look at him for
the first time. Her eyes widened impossibly. "You're a Jedi,
aren't you?"
"A Jedi apprentice, yes," Obi-Wan said, inserting his rank to
let her know how little he truly could do.
"Then you can help me." Her blue eyes were filled with tears,
and her face streaked with them. "Please, say you'll help. You
must help. No one else will."
"My master would..."
"Don't you want to help me?" She was shedding large tears now.
Obi-Wan felt exceedingly helpless at the moment himself. He
reached out to her with the Force, checking to see if there
were something darker going on, some reason why he shouldn't
help her, but instead, he felt just what she was saying -- she
was desperately sad because her father was to be put to death.
"What can I do?" he asked.
His acceptance set events into emotions, and soon enough, he
was before the king, pleading the case of Gila's father.
Without Qui-Gon's assistance or knowledge, because Obi-Wan was
sure he would disapprove of placing a single man's life above
the good of the many, and perhaps, just a little, because
Obi-Wan wanted to succeed and show his master that he was
capable of handling the situation on his own.
"Your majesty, please spare his life," Obi-Wan said. "I would
gladly take his place if I could."
The assembled court burst into hysterical laughter.
Even the king could not speak, although from Obi-Wan's
position, close to the throne, it looked more like His Majesty
was choking in an apoplectic fit.
He looked at Gila. "What did I say?"
Even she was smiling. "My father's 'crime' was..."
She was smirking at him. He could tell that she was smirking.
"What?"
A sense of shame and embarrassment was rising in him, and it
didn't help any that the girl he was attempting to help looked
as though she might burst into laughter herself. Laughter, he
noted, that the people around him showed no signs of abating
in.
"My father... my father..."
Obi-Wan waited, holding onto his patience with both hands.
She was definitely giggling now. "He... there was a security
alert. And he was on his way to the garden, where the queen was
holding the Summer's End Celebration. Women only, you know.
It's supposed to be a very..." she looked at Obi-Wan and
laughed. "A very sacred ceremony."
"And?"
"And, well, you see, he ran into the palace's security
detachment. But they were droids, not people. So when they
strip-searched him, well..."
Obi-Wan understood. The droids must have been misprogrammed.
"Well, just what do Jedi wear under their robes, anyway?" And
then she was gone, doubled over, another victim of the
laughter.
Obi-Wan knew his face was red, knew he'd just made a
laughingstock of himself and probably the Jedi as well. He
couldn't understand what the problem was. So her father
appeared naked at a garden party. What's so funny?
And then his master's figure strode through the crowd, and
Obi-Wan felt his blush disappear in the anticipation of
Qui-Gon's disappointment.
He was not wrong.
"You did not complete the errand I sent you on."
Errand? What errand? Then he remembered. "No, master."
Raised eyebrows, and then, "If you had completed it, none of
this would have come to pass. If you had talked to me about
your concerns, none of this would have come to pass. Instead,
you have created a major diplomatic incident through your lack
of trust and impatience. I would like you to return to our ship
and meditate on these things."
Return. To the ship. They had quarters in the palace, a very
luxurious suite that he and Qui-Gon were sharing. To be told to
return to the red Republic cruiser assigned to the Jedi for
their negotiations... He had failed very badly indeed.
Humiliation set deeply into his soul, and despite being 16 now,
he wanted to cry, to beg forgiveness of his master, to hide.
But he did none of these things. Instead, he replied, as he
must, "Yes, master," and left the room.
And, then, suddenly, Obi-Wan was no longer inside the memory,
and he was being held close and comforted. It was a mental
sensation, not a physical one, and all the more fulfilling
because of that. It was all the solace he had not been offered
at the time, and needed as badly as he needed air.
It's all right, padawan. It's over now. That was six years
ago.
What did I do, master? What was so terrible that you had to
push me away?
Push you away? Obi-Wan...
A near crushing weight of concern descended upon him.
Master?
I had to send you away, Qui-Gon explained. Once the
king recovered, he would have sentenced you to death as well,
for blasphemy in publicly stating your intention to commit
sacrilege against the state religion. I knew I could handle the
situation, as their religion was more form and habit than true
belief, but I did not wish to be forced to bargain with your
life at stake as well. My anxiety for you would have clouded my
abilities.
You care about me?
I do, Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan felt his master's sadness and regret that such a
question need even be asked.
I never meant to cause you such lasting pain, love. It was
necessary that I correct you, but I would not, did not and do
not ever want, to scar you.
Obi-Wan basked in the endearment. It was the second time it
had slipped out, and he cherished it. Master, what exactly
was everyone laughing about?
You still don't know?
No, master, Obi-Wan said, projecting an air of
innocence. He was rewarded with laughter, and his heart eased,
as the pain of the past was finally soothed.
The sharing of their memories had freed emotions, emotions
that now moved between them without interference. Obi-Wan let
them settle over him, accepting them as best he could and
letting them in.
Have we begun then, master? Obi-Wan asked, sensing that
this was the real ritual of mastering the emotional, and what
had come before was only the release of what had been kept long
hidden.
Yes, padawan, came the answer, echoing softly through
their bond.
Obi-Wan wondered what to do, and the answer came back to him
immediately. We sift the emotions and master them.
His master's presence surrounded him, and they were almost one
again, Qui-Gon guiding and Obi-Wan following.
His master brought Obi-Wan's feelings of rejection and
abandonment to the fore, plainly exposed for the both of them
to see. Obi-Wan needed no reacquaintance with them, but Qui-Gon
examined them as though this was the first time he had really
seen them. Every moment was laid out, from the very beginning
of Obi-Wan's relationship with Qui-Gon, when he had desperately
hoped that the Jedi master would take him on as a pupil, and
had lost the chance with his own angry temper in the duel
against Bruck Chun.
His entire history was laid bare, each instance when he had
not felt good enough or needed. It was a very long procession
of moments and memories, up to the worst moment of all, only a
few days ago, when Obi-Wan had known that he was truly
abandoned and lay crying in his room for the loss that had
taken nine years to come and hurt no less for it.
It left Obi-Wan stricken, as though every event, every feeling
had just taken place right then.
He wasn't good enough. He could never be good enough. All of
the times he had failed to win Qui-Gon's approval burned into
his head as personal faults of his own, reasons why he should
never be a Jedi at all. He could handle his daily feelings, but
this, all together, was too much.
He felt himself shattering, falling away from Qui-Gon,
barriers beginning to rise between himself and the pain.
He should accept, should deal with the pain, but there was too
much of it, and he had no shielding right now, no ability to
keep these feelings from swamping his own center unless he
protected himself first. Acceptance could only take place from
a position of strength.
Or a position of utter weakness.
It was Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan's thoughts were unguarded, his mental
voice a wail that he detested even as he was helpless to
prevent it. Why are you speaking to me? I don't deserve
it. Can't bear it. Can't bear having him speak to me
when I am nothing to him. Too much hope. Too much wanting
something I can't have. Hurts so much. If you ever cared
about me, please don't hurt me again.
He felt Qui-Gon's shock, and interpreted it as yet another
failure. He'd done the wrong thing, said the wrong thing, and
disappointed the Jedi master. Obi-Wan burrowed deeper into a
protective shell, panic easing some as his shields snapped into
place around him.
Obi-Wan, please...
He trembled. What did Qui-Gon want? Wasn't it enough that
Obi-Wan had seen his own worthlessness at last? Did the master
want him to confess it as well? To openly admit his lackings?
He couldn't. Not without disintegrating completely.
Qui-Gon probed the fragile shields with a delicate touch. They
were brittle, thrown up in a hurry as the last defense of a
mind that had been pushed too far. It was not pain his Obi-Wan
was experiencing, not anything so pale and light as that, but
an all-consuming despair. And he, Qui-Gon, was the cause of it.
They'd set their shielding aside for this part of the soul
bonding ritual, and Obi-Wan had had nothing to cling to when he
had been faced with the thing he feared more than anything
else. Qui-Gon's rejection.
Obi-Wan could have clung to him, but painfully, Qui-Gon
realized, the young man had not possessed the confidence to do
so.
Did not believe enough in his master's love and care for him
to reach for it when he most needed it, despite the reassurance
and affection they had shared earlier.
Oh, my Obi-Wan, he whispered, but his padawan was
beyond hearing.
He had caused this; it was his to fix.
If he could.
Qui-Gon reached out to the battered young mind in hiding. He
could break through those shields. Could draw on the strength
of their bond as master and apprentice and order his padawan to
drop them. And he could, and Obi-Wan would. His padawan would
obey. At an even greater cost to his savaged emotions.
Or Qui-Gon could take a lesson from his apprentice, and meet
the barricade with warmth and kindness, as Obi-Wan had done to
his own mental wall.
It would mean facing his own vulnerabilities, exposing himself
to the mocking laughter that awaited his declaration of love.
His memories told him that love brought only pain.
But the soul bond promised hope.
Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan, building an image of his padawan's
state. He saw Obi-Wan as the boy he had been at 13, huddled
into himself, grasping his knees against his chest to hold in
the pain. Walls as thin as an eggshell surrounded him,
shielding that would not protect against a determined probe.
Qui-Gon remembered his own wall inside, and how it had
crumpled at Obi-Wan's touch when all the force he could master
against it had failed. Obi-Wan had thrown this barrier up to
protect himself. Force would only be met with resistance, as
the mind tried to protect itself.
As well it should. His padawan had been deeply hurt today.
Qui-Gon grieved, then knelt before that thin shielding, and
opened his heart fully to the emotion he had only begun
experiencing again when he realized that Obi-Wan was already
there, in his heart.
I love you, my Obi-Wan, he said gently, not daring to
even touch the thin shielding. A great sorrow filled him. I
am as frightened of love as you are of rejection. If you have a
flaw, mine is surely greater, for I am guilty of causing yours.
You are innocent, Obi-Wan, my Obi-Wan. And I love you.
It was true, it was too true, but still Obi-Wan did not
respond.
Obi-Wan, you must listen. I need you to help me. To
aid me in understanding this new emotion. Obi-Wan, please.
He was crying, he realized, dimly aware of his physical body.
He could not stop himself, and he felt the desperate, wild pain
as he realized that he might have lost Obi-Wan for good. If he
were so far broken, catatonic in his own mind...
Oh, please...
Qui-Gon? came the faint reply, still through shields.
But it was a reply. Obi-Wan. He put everything he could
into that name, everything that Obi-Wan was to him, everything
he wanted him to be.
Obi-Wan's shielding wavered. Do you mean that?
Entirely.
The barrier fell, and Qui-Gon was through the place where it
had been, gathering Obi-Wan close, before even a heartbeat had
passed. My love, my dearest love. He sent tendrils of
that caring through Obi-Wan, not surrounding him with it, but
thoroughly filling him with it instead. Don't ever leave me
again.
How could you love me? It's not possible. Not possible.
I... you don't want me.
Qui-Gon felt the pain cut through him again, and knew it was
only his fault, the result of the coldness he had adopted, the
pride he had been unwilling to foster in Obi-Wan lest it turn
into arrogance, the love he had forgotten how to show. He gave
that all to Obi-Wan now, letting his padawan see his failings.
You have been an excellent padawan to me. You are capable,
ahead of your year-mates in many areas, especially your
physical skills. And your insight has grown. He brought up
how he had felt while reading Obi-Wan's poem on wisdom, the
pleasure he had taken in Obi-Wan's understanding. You found
your own answer, one I did not expect. And it was good.
He sent his love and approval to Obi-Wan as well, attempting
to make up for years of neglect in one moment. Qui-Gon knew it
would not be enough, could not possibly be enough... but if
Obi-Wan could forgive him, then there would be an equal or
greater amount of years to redress that wrong.
Oh, Light, I need to believe that, Obi-Wan cried out,
burying himself inside Qui-Gon's embrace. Please let this be
true.
The amount of doubt staggered Qui-Gon, and he tightened his
grip on his beloved Obi-Wan. It is true, he reassured,
with everything that he had in him. I love you, and I will
never stop loving you.
Never?
Never, Qui-Gon reassured him firmly.
When Qui-Gon attempted to open his eyes, he found them gummy
from shed tears. He brushed them clear, and then looked up.
Master Etil appeared to have fallen asleep in her chair.
Obi-Wan -- Qui-Gon turned his head -- was sitting, looking at
him neutrally, as though expecting that words spoken inside the
privacy of their minds would not and could not be acknowledged
out loud. His padawan sat there with perfect posture, allowing
no trace of the internal struggle he had gone through to show
in his bearing.
Qui-Gon's heart hurt all over again. What he wanted was to
draw Obi-Wan close to him, fully into his lap as though he were
a little boy, and physically reassure him that he was loved,
and would always be loved.
But not with Etil there. No matter how 'away' she seemed to
be.
Qui-Gon stood up, followed an instant later by Obi-Wan.
Etil didn't move. Perhaps she really had fallen asleep.
He forced himself to say the words out loud, although they
tore at him, and were yet another rip in the already torn
fabric of Obi-Wan's self worth. "Come, padawan. Let us return
to our quarters."
Qui-Gon attempted to reach out to Obi-Wan on the short walk
back to their quarters, and attempted to again as they waited
for dinner to be brought, but his padawan had reshielded
against him, and Qui-Gon was at a loss for words.
Obi-Wan's concentration was elsewhere, fixated on the concept
of nothingness, and Qui-Gon's pride in his student's
accomplishment was equally matched by an exasperation that
Obi-Wan should choose to perfect that skill now.
He should have ignored Etil's presence, and acted then, before
Obi-Wan had a chance to re-barrier himself.
They finished their meal -- it had grown quite late while they
moved through the ritual. As Obi-Wan stood up, Qui-Gon halted
him with a look. "Please join me again tonight."
"Yes, master," was the soft reply, and it said nothing more to
Qui-Gon than any of Obi-Wan's thoughts had since they had
raised their shields against the outside world.
And each other.
Qui-Gon's trepidation came as much from being separated from
his bonded, as far his concern for Obi-Wan. He was incomplete,
and he needed to finish what they had begun back in Etil's
quarters.
He felt a small sob from his padawan, and was at the door to
the bathroom as Obi-Wan exited it.
"Your turn, master," Obi-Wan said, and slipped by him before
Qui-Gon could question him.
Qui-Gon watched him go, and determined that he would not let
Obi-Wan escape so easily. After he'd had his bath.
It was even later before Qui-Gon returned to his bedchamber.
His heart lifted as his eyes picked out Obi-Wan's form against
the backdrop of the bed.
Qui-Gon sat down on the bed, then laid back.
Obi-Wan was turned away from him, the long line of his spine
facing Qui-Gon.
"Come here, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said softly.
His padawan obeyed, reluctantly turning over and settling
himself closer to Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon gathered Obi-Wan close to him, needing to feel Obi-Wan
against him, needing the physical counterpart to their
emotional trial. I love you, Obi-Wan, he said, hoping
his padawan would hear it, would let the thought in.
And Obi-Wan began to cry, in painful gulping sobs that shook
his body.
Qui-Gon pulled the bed covering over his padawan's body, and
wrapped him closer, trying to calm the inner chill with outer
warmth. "What's wrong?" Let me see, love.
The sobbing did not cease, but Obi-Wan relaxed his mind, and
finally, they were fully together, both mentally and
physically.
A wash of satisfaction rushed over Qui-Gon. He had missed that
greatly. Thank you, love. Tenderly, he examined
Obi-Wan's mind, as he also shared his love with Obi-Wan.
The sobbing paused, as Obi-Wan looked up at him. You do
mean it, then?
Of course, I do, love. I always speak the truth to you.
His mouth twitched. It does appear that I have been
frequently guilty of not sharing enough of the truth with you,
however. I will work to change that, although I suspect that
our bond will allow few secrets to remain.
I love you, master, Obi-Wan admitted, the words
sounding as though they'd been torn from him.
I know, Qui-Gon said, and covered Obi-Wan's mouth with
a kiss.
Obi-Wan responded to Qui-Gon's kiss with a desperate passion,
calming only when Qui-Gon did not break from the kiss, but
instead, leaned further over him. The feeling of his master's
weight against his body was soothing...
...and not quite enough. He moved closer, into the shelter
that was Qui-Gon.
His master wrapped his free arm around Obi-Wan, pressing them
lightly together. He looked down at Obi-Wan from only a few
inches distance. Better?
Obi-Wan reached up, his hand sliding over Qui-Gon's cheek.
More.
This time, unlike the day before, Qui-Gon obliged. His lips
met Obi-Wan's face gently, tasting the tears his apprentice had
shed, then moved down to Obi-Wan's mouth, exploring it with
tender determination.
It should have been arousing. It should have reminded him of
all the sexual thoughts he'd been having about his master.
Instead, Obi-Wan wanted to cry again. He needed this comfort
of his body as well as of his mind, and what really mattered in
the stillness of this moment was that Qui-Gon was here, and he
would not leave, and that he loved Obi-Wan fully.
It was Obi-Wan who had to break the kiss, who could not take
any more of it. He ducked away from Qui-Gon's mouth and buried
his head in his master's neck as the tears began to flow again.
I can't stop crying. Why am I crying?
And his master, far from chiding Obi-Wan for his lack of
control, accepted the change, and curled himself around his
padawan. Perhaps because you have attempted to control your
pain in the past, but never fully dealt with it? he
suggested. Much as I had not dealt with my reactions to...
with my own reactions.
I should stop. 'There is no emotion, there is peace.' I'm
not being a proper Jedi, Obi-Wan managed, the tears still
flowing freely, soaking Qui-Gon's bare shoulder. He couldn't
stop, but he should. He should.
When you have properly dealt with the emotion, you will
find peace, yes. You have not yet. Qui-Gon instructed his
padawan, knowing that this was as crucial as any battle they
had fought with lightsabers. Listen to me. You must feel the
emotion. Remind yourself of your pain, padawan. When you
understand it and realize that there is no reason for such
pain, then you will have begun to deal with it.
But there is a reason, Obi-Wan protested.
Not for this. You are not rejected, you are accepted. You
are not worthless, you are precious. You are not a failure, you
are well on your way to becoming a Jedi knight. You are not
unloved, you are very much loved.
Obi-Wan did not reply, though his tears continued to fall.
Qui-Gon's mental voice gentled, and he stroked Obi-Wan's
unbound hair. He plucked Obi-Wan's braid back from his
padawan's face and tucked it behind Obi-Wan's ear. You need
to understand that, my Obi-Wan. It is the truth.
No reply came, and Qui-Gon continued caressing Obi-Wan's head,
letting his padawan cry himself into exhaustion. Do you
understand, Obi-Wan?
I'll try, master, came the sleepy reply.
"I'm sure you will," Qui-Gon murmured, lips moving against
Obi-Wan's hair, knowing that his apprentice could no longer
hear him, "But until you do, we will not be able to move on."
A strident voice broke into his dream. Obi-Wan had been
sunning himself on the marble floor, fascinated by the
intricate patterning of the tiles, when he was interrupted by
that noise. He immediately looked up, found Qui-Gon standing
near him, and reached out to touch his master, tickling
Qui-Gon's ankle. Qui-Gon, however, was playing the stoic Jedi
master and didn't respond. Obi-Wan didn't mind.
"So you thought you'd sneak out?"
A Jedi master hedging was not a pretty sound. Obi-Wan
cherished it. "I did not... I thought you were asleep."
"Right. I could have been in a comatose state, overloaded by
the emotions I was trying to shield, and you didn't even check
on me?"
"Ah..."
"Never mind. I don't care about that. What I do care about is
your apprentice. I told you he was fragile. And you went
forward anyway. Now his lack of self-confidence has broken
open, and if it doesn't get fixed, the both of you are liable
to spend the rest of your lives under the care of the healers,
wasting my time because you didn't listen to me the
first time around. Do you know how irritating this is?"
"Um..."
Who was speaking?, Obi-Wan wondered from his position
on the floor. He tried to open his eyes and see, but the light
was too bright, blinding him. Who did the voices belong to? His
master, certainly, and... Master Etil? It had to be her. No one
else would ever talk to his master like that.
Deeply exhausted, Obi-Wan curled up into a ball, body curving
around his master's feet and ignored the argument. His master
would protect him. He would be safe. And then, after Qui-Gon
defeated Etil, they could go do battle with the Ewok Sith lord.
That would be fun.
"You didn't master the emotional. If you think you did, you're
wrong. Okay, so you finally opened up. I'm happy for you. But
the boy..."
"Whom you said would be no problem," Qui-Gon reminded her
helpfully.
"No problem getting at his emotions," she corrected. "There's
a big problem with his emotions."
"I know."
"Good. I'm glad all my screaming hasn't gone totally unheard.
What are you doing about the problem?"
"It's not mine to do anything with. Obi-Wan must understand
that he is accepted, must believe it for himself. I cannot
influence that."
"Sure you can. You can support him, and get him to understand
the truth. Presuming," her voice became even sharper, "that he
isn't right in his doubts."
"I love him," Qui-Gon said simply. "There is no reason to
doubt."
Obi-Wan clutched the comment to himself, feeling wonderfully
secure and loved, then fell more deeply into his dreaming. He
was very tired. He took himself to a place where there were no
voices and his dreams would be quiet enough to let him sleep
through them.
When he woke again, Qui-Gon was there, sitting on the edge of
the bed, and looking down at him with an amused smile.
"Did I oversleep, master?" Obi-Wan asked muzzily.
"Only in the sense that I allowed you to sleep yourself out.
Yesterday was a trying day."
Obi-Wan smiled up at his master. Qui-Gon loved him, he knew
that.
Yes, I do.
I love you, my master.
Then all is as it should be. Qui-Gon stood, his robes
flowing smoothly with him. "I think today should be a day of
rest. To meditate and return to our regular routines, so that
we can find balance with the emotions of yesterday."
"Yes, master." Can we be together? Obi-Wan asked
wistfully. I would like to be with you.
"Yes, padawan, we may do that."
"Thank you, master."
Obi-Wan had awakened in time for lunch. Surprisingly, Qui-Gon
felt few of the doubts in Obi-Wan that he had felt there the
night before. Even in his sleep, Obi-Wan had clung to Qui-Gon,
and Qui-Gon's dreams had been full of him.
Perhaps that was the reason for Obi-Wan's new confidence --
some subconscious reassurance in his sleep that Qui-Gon didn't
remember providing.
Perhaps, master, Obi-Wan said quietly, his manner
solemn as usual. I know I had a dream...
Qui-Gon caught the images his apprentice projected, the tiled
floor, Obi-Wan curled around him and the Ewok Sith lord. He
chuckled. I don't see how that would be reassuring, padawan.
I must warn you that sharpened sticks are very painful when
stabbed into your calves and feet. It is quite difficult to
fight when you cannot stand.
I have seen Yoda practice, master.
So you have.
Qui-Gon led the way to the dining hall, Obi-Wan close by his
side. It felt precisely right to have Obi-Wan there, to know he
could count on the other man's strength. On the solidity and
loyalty of his padawan, his bonded and his love.
Obi-Wan threw a startled glance at Qui-Gon.
"Is something wrong, padawan?"
"No, master."
Qui-Gon didn't believe that. Would you have a different
answer if I asked you this way?
No, master.
While Obi-Wan's response felt true, Qui-Gon knew that there
was something more Obi-Wan wasn't saying. The look alone would
have told him that, if he did not have the link to his
apprentice's emotions and thoughts. But...?
Obi-Wan did not answer.
Qui-Gon sent reassurance. You can tell me, padawan. I love
you, I will not reject you no matter what you tell me.
Softly, in a whisper that was only meant for Qui-Gon's ears,
Obi-Wan asked, "Would your answer be different if you said it
this way?"
What answer? Qui-Gon asked himself. Then, he
means...
Would you say you loved me if you had to say it out
loud?
Would you like me to announce it before the Council?
Qui-Gon asked conversationally. If that's what you'd like, I
will.
Just out loud would be fine, master.
Obi-Wan was embarrassed by the suggestion, but Qui-Gon thought
that it might be a good idea. "Eventually," he said, leaving
the easier communication of mind speech behind, "the full
Council will have to know. A soul bond is not something to keep
hidden."
Unless we fail, came the thought.
"Then, my love, the council will certainly have to know."
Obi-Wan looked up at him.
That glance was considerably more than startled, and
Qui-Gon hid his amusement as best he could. "Yes, Obi-Wan? And
out loud, please."
The whisper that came then was only technically out loud, but
Qui-Gon let the volume, or lack thereof, pass. "Master, you --
you called me your love."
"Yes, I did, because that is what you are -- my love. I
love you, Obi-Wan."
The comment did not go unnoticed as they passed into the
dining hall, but the looks they drew were more approving than
surprised. It seemed as though Qui-Gon had been the last to
realize how much he loved his apprentice.
Except for, perhaps, that apprentice himself.
"I apologize for not believing in you, master," Obi-Wan said,
as they sat down at a table.
The look Qui-Gon gave him was full of affection and
forgiveness. "It seems I have given you every reason not to
believe in me by failing to tell you of or show my confidence
in you."
Not so. Never so.
The mental comment earned him the furrowing of his master's
eyebrows.
"Must I say everything out loud, master? I... I am not used to
having my every thought being clearly read. It seems
disrespectful to say... to question you."
"Yes, padawan. We must. It seems a great deal has been kept
hidden between us, and as you so wisely pointed out a few
moments ago, it is time we lent those unexpressed concerns the
solidity of words."
"Yes, master." Obi-Wan was resigned, if not fully convinced. It
had been his idea, after all. Wasn't there a proverb
about being careful what you asked for?
Qui-Gon gave him another look, but changed the topic rather
than delivering a reprimand. "I spoke with Master Etil this
morning. She believes, and I agree, that we have not yet
completed the stage of Mastering the Emotional."
"Because of me, master," Obi-Wan said. It was not a question.
His master had dealt with his memories the previous day, as
well a master might.
"Do you believe that I love you, Obi-Wan? That you are
worthwhile?"
When it was said like that, coming from that beloved
countenance, how could he disbelieve? "You know my heart better
than I do, master."
Qui-Gon shook his head gently. "No, padawan. Your heart
believes sometimes, and doubts sometimes. I am asking what
you believe."
Neither of them were paying much attention to the meal set
before them. Obi-Wan pondered the question while attempting to
eat. What did he really believe? Looking at his master,
and his master's expression, he found that he was suddenly
quite certain that he believed "that you might thump me if I
don't start speaking out loud."
"Very perceptive, padawan. And?"
"I think I believe that this is a miracle that must eventually
disappear."
Qui-Gon examined him for a long moment. "I see."
He stood, and reflexively, Obi-Wan stood along with him.
Obi-Wan felt the Force pulse outward from Qui-Gon, and stared
at his master in bewilderment. If the pulse hadn't asked for
silence, Obi-Wan might have questioned Qui-Gon. The twinkle in
his master's eyes was ominous. The last time he'd seen that
particular look, they'd ended up having to flee under heavy
fire into a rioting city. Qui-Gon had a very odd sense
of humor at times.
When the dining hall had quieted, Qui-Gon began to speak. "I
would like you to know that I have formed a soul bond with my
padawan and my love, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I commend him to you as an
accomplished young man who will make an excellent knight. Thank
you."
And then Qui-Gon was sitting down again, smiling widely at
Obi-Wan, who, mouth gaping, stumbled back into his seat.
"Now what do you believe, padawan?"
Mass insanity. That's what I believe in.
"Obi-Wan?"
He glanced around, still fiercely blushing. A number of people
were still looking at him and his master. There was no doubt
that everyone had heard that announcement. "I..." he choked, "I
think I believe you now, master."
"Good. Now eat your food."
By the time they had finished their quiet meal, Obi-Wan
did believe it. Everyone had heard it. It couldn't be
simply a phantasm of his mind. It had happened.
He felt a happy little glow inside.
And then his master spoke again, quietly, just to him. "Now is
probably not the time to remind you that public acknowledgement
of a relationship does not guarantee that the relationship will
work."
It stung, but Obi-Wan thought about the statement instead of
reacting to it. If now was not the time, why then had his
master said that? Because Qui-Gon wanted him to think about it.
Wanted him to realize -- what? That this was only the
beginning? That there were trials yet to face? Or that love
wasn't the answer to everything?
"Yes, padawan," Qui-Gon replied softly, almost sadly, and
Obi-Wan knew from their bond that his master meant all of them,
but most especially the last.
Obi-Wan remembered what Master Etil had said on the subject of
love, and his expression screwed up into a thoughtful grimace.
He hadn't quite understood it, not in the place inside himself
where realities were stored, but he had taken the words in and
knew that Etil had meant them. "You don't think love is
important, master?"
"It's important, yes. Like the handle on your lightsaber."
"But the handle isn't that important. I chose mine because of
how it looks."
Qui-Gon had finished his meal, and was concentrating fully on
Obi-Wan now. "But without a handle, you would not be able to
hold the lightsaber, and you would have nowhere to put the
generating components."
"Yes, master."
"But you're not wrong, either."
"Master?" Obi-Wan asked, confused.
"What makes your lightsaber function?"
That was an easy question. Obi-Wan could have given
step-by-step instructions on how to put a lightsaber together
at a dead run from the aforementioned rioting city. He'd done
it, too. Or repaired one, at any rate. "The components inside
it."
"What makes a relationship work?"
He hadn't thought of it quite that way. He thought of his
relationship with Qui-Gon. What was it based on? Love, yes. To
some degree. Their master-apprentice bond linked them together,
and Obi-Wan had known for a very long time through it that
Qui-Gon cared about him.
Did that count?
"Does it?" Qui-Gon asked gently. "Was it the bond that kept you
with me when you felt rejected by me? Is that why you have
trusted me and obeyed me for so long?"
How many times had he felt rejected? Obi-Wan couldn't count
them all, not without diverting a great deal of conscious
thought onto the topic. But he knew how he'd felt then, had
been forcibly reminded of how it felt yesterday. Those were the
times when their bond had mattered the least to him, because he
hadn't believed in it. He'd questioned at those times whether
Qui-Gon really cared for him, and whether the bond was simply
an inconvenience, whether he was simply an inconvenience
that Qui-Gon would rather do without.
"No, master," Obi-Wan said finally. "Not love."
"What then?"
Obi-Wan didn't know what to say. "Habit?"
"Yes, padawan. That's one name for it."
"For what, master?"
"For the accumulation of trust and commitment that causes a
relationship to continue to work even when there is no handle,
when love has temporarily disintegrated."
"But, master, a relationship without love!" He cut himself
short.
"Yes, Obi-Wan?"
"Well, what would be the point, master?"
You are very young, my Obi-Wan.
The thought was fond, but Obi-Wan blushed anyway. "Not that
young, master."
"Young enough to believe in love as an all-conquering
influence. Which it is not, although it does have great power."
"Will you explain then, master, what you mean? About
relationships?"
Qui-Gon stood again, and Obi-Wan looked around a bit warily
before following him to his feet this time.
"We are done with our meal," his master said, watching him with
amusement. "I do not plan to make another public announcement."
Good.
Qui-Gon chuckled, but left the dining hall, calmly addressing
Obi-Wan as though nothing had occurred. "I am no expert in
relationships. You are the first person in years with whom I've
managed a sustained rapport. But it seems to me that a strong
relationship must be based upon the willingness of the people
in it to commit to it and continue it no matter what trials or
difficulties may occur."
Obi-Wan looked up, seeing the long, dark cloak with the hood
folded back, and studied the profile of his master's face. "No
matter what, master? Isn't that, well, risky?"
"Yet another reason to choose your partner very carefully,
padawan."
"So if a relationship is a commitment, then love is..."
"Something to cherish and hold very dear. I did not say a
handle was unnecessary or undesirable."
"Yes, master."
As they approached their quarters, Obi-Wan began thinking of
something else. A topic that kept coming to his mind, all the
more strongly now that he had spent two nights in Qui-Gon's
bed. And shared such kisses between them. Mastering the
physical. "Master?"
"Yes, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan grinned as the door shut behind them. "Thank you,
master."
"Padawan..." Qui-Gon growled.
"What, master?" Obi-Wan asked innocently. "You did not mean
that we should complete the next stage of the ritual tonight?"
"We cannot continue until we have mastered the emotional."
"My doubts are gone." Look.
Qui-Gon clasped Obi-Wan's shoulders lightly, the better to
complete their connection, and closed his eyes. He explored his
padawan gently...
That's the idea I'm trying to get across, Obi-Wan
commented impishly.
Hush, Obi-Wan.
Qui-Gon suppressed his own thoughts on the subject with strict
control, and returned to his exploration. Something had
changed in his apprentice. Obi-Wan's fear of rejection
remained, but his confidence in Qui-Gon had grown. Qui-Gon
wasn't sure, however, whether that meant they had made enough
progress. If Obi-Wan's fear of rejection is fear of me, then
no. But such a fear is not easily subdued...
I could meditate, master, Obi-Wan offered.
His padawan's eagerness was touching. If it were not echoed in
him, Qui-Gon could smile at it. But he felt the same drive
toward completion of their bond, and knew that it was not just
personal whim that demanded this. They needed to continue the
bond, and master it. Before it mastered them.
"We shall both meditate, padawan," Qui-Gon said, not removing
his hands. "I believe we can overcome this barrier." I also
believe we must overcome it.
"We will, master."
Obi-Wan laid out the mats, and they knelt together, no more
than a breath apart.
We will overcome this, Obi-Wan thought. Or I will go
stark raving mad.
"Unfortunately, Obi-Wan, that is one of the possibilities."
Master Qui-Gon believed Obi-Wan to be afraid of rejection.
Obi-Wan wasn't sure what he believed at the moment. Which was
why he was meditating on that topic. With all due obedience to
his master, and with an earnest desire to put this topic behind
him so that they could move on. He thought perhaps that he
could, that such feelings didn't matter to him as they once
had, but he must be certain in order to pass Qui-Gon's
scrutiny.
He thought about rejection and not being good enough. Those
feelings related all the way back to the proving grounds of the
Jedi Academy. Failure had been an all too possible reality
then, and everyone had wanted to succeed, and be chosen as a
padawan. And all of those students who were not chosen, and who
drew nearer and nearer to the age of thirteen, lived with dread
coiling inside them. That dread was only partially relieved in
the exercises and demonstrations intended to show their skills
to prospective masters, but reignited every time they failed.
For it was only the failures who were left behind, and their
desperation increased each day.
It was little wonder that he'd had so much difficulty keeping
his temper and reining in his emotions then -- the atmosphere
for the twelve-year-olds was full of pressure, and while their
teachers might stress the will of the Force, every initiate
there had known the truth, that they had less and less time
every day before they would be sent away, denied what they had
been training their entire lives for. Their teachers were right
-- acceptance was the key, but few who could accept despite
that crushing pressure remained until they were thirteen. Those
few were meant to be Jedi.
Obi-Wan thought about his knighthood then. He'd spent over a
decade as a student, and would spend at least a decade as a
padawan. To fail the next step would truly mean the waste of
his life. And yet, he felt less pressure now. The barrier
between him and knighthood was something that could be overcome
by his own skills and abilities, not one dependent on his age.
Qui-Gon would not suddenly turn his back on Obi-Wan because
Obi-Wan had passed such an artificial marker of development as
his birthday.
And indeed, his master could never turn his back on him again.
The buoyancy of that knowledge, of the soul bond and of his
master's love for him soothed the pain of that early rejection.
It had happened, it was done now, but at last, he was accepted,
and that would not go away. He would be loved and cared for
even if he grew older, even if he were not perfect.
Right then, Obi-Wan understood something. That was what
he had tried to be for Qui-Gon. The perfect padawan. So that he
could control his situation and would never be rejected again.
And it didn't work either. I was sent away for different
reasons. he thought, remembering how Qui-Gon had distanced
himself from him after learning that Obi-Wan had deeper
feelings for his master. I was sent away because Qui-Gon
could not deal with my emotions due to Xanatos.
He'd spent years trying to prevent the humiliating rejection
he feared from coming, and it had happened anyway, through
events that were only marginally under his control. There was
irony in that, and a lesson to be learned about the usefulness
of control, but Obi-Wan left it alone for the a later time.
He had been forced out of control of his life, and while he
lacked control, everything had changed, and only now was there
a true possibility of his never being rejected again.
A possibility, because he and his master still had to complete
the soul bonding.
He was at peace with that. The soul bonding would succeed if
they were ready for it, and if it did not, then the situation
was no longer in his control.
And he was beginning to think that 'out-of-control' signified
something good.
Obi-Wan surfaced from his meditation, opening his eyes. The
lights had been partially dimmed, but as he turned his head, he
could see Qui-Gon kneeling next to him, still meditating.
Quietly, Obi-Wan stood, rolled up his mat, and then put it
away. He had settled his mind. He was at rest with his
emotions. Now... perhaps some preparation for the evening ahead
was in order?
Grinning, he took himself off to the bathroom.
When Obi-Wan returned, freshly bathed and without his cloak or
outer tunic, Qui-Gon had finished his own meditation, and was
standing by a Force-shielded window, studying the view of the
Temple gardens.
"Master, I have finished my meditations."
Without turning, Qui-Gon answered, "Yes, I am aware of that.
You seem much refreshed."
Obi-Wan joined his master, standing just at Qui-Gon's elbow,
not too close, but not so far away that he could not read every
expression on the other man's face, or reach out to touch him
if he so chose. "I think I am only now beginning to understand
some things."
May I?
Obi-Wan nodded, and stood still, opening himself. He did not
have to with the soul bond still pulsating rawly between them,
but he needed to show his willingness. Yes, master.
And then Qui-Gon was inside his mind, testing Obi-Wan's new
insight. He searched for feelings of worthlessness, for the
emotions which had done Obi-Wan in the previous day, and found
instead healing scars.
I am proud of you, my padawan. And then Qui-Gon was
adding his own balm to the places where Obi-Wan had been had
been so badly hurt, encouraging their healing.
Obi-Wan leaned into that soft mental touch, only to catch
himself against his master's arm, as his body leaned forward as
well.
For a moment, Obi-Wan felt embarrassed as he stepped away,
then he couldn't understand why he'd felt embarrassed. He'd had
a moment of weakness, a temporary loss of control, and Qui-Gon
knew, and Obi-Wan would work to correct it in the future. That
was all there was to the issue, and chiding himself over it
would add no benefit to the correction, any more than Qui-Gon
openly reprimanding him for his slip would. They both knew his
lapse, and nothing further needed to be said.
Precisely, Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon's mind glowed with
approval. "I believe," he said in his deep voice, "that we have
mastered the emotional."
Obi-Wan glowed as well. Then we can work on mastering the
physical.
"So we can." An eyebrow arched. Mildly, "If you feel you're
ready?"
Obi-Wan gave him a disbelieving look.
"I thought so." Qui-Gon chuckled and held out his hand, but
when he spoke, his tone was perfectly level again, and his eyes
quite serious. "Shall we?"
Obi-Wan looked at that hand, and all that it implied, looked
at his master, at Qui-Gon from his long, tied-back hair,
to his thick cloak that promised safety and shelter even as it
disguised the lines of his master's body, down to... Obi-Wan
swallowed heavily and looked at the hand being held out to him.
He took it. "Yes, master."
The short walk to the sleeping chamber lasted a few eternal
moments that Obi-Wan was sure he would recall all of his life.
How the air hung still around them, the shadows in the room and
the afternoon light through the window. And Qui-Gon's familiar
figure walking alongside him, Obi-Wan's hand clutched in the
embrace of that larger hand.
Qui-Gon stopped when they stood next to the bed. "Is there any
curiosity you wish to satisfy about me? I do not think that the
first stage of this ritual will be more than a formality, given
how closely we have lived together these past years, but if you
have any lingering questions about me, feel free to satisfy
them."
Obi-Wan was very glad Qui-Gon could feel his emotions and hear
his thoughts, for he was very certain right then that the only
sounds he would have been able to make would have been choked
at best. In garbled Huttese at worst, depending on how severely
he choked on his words.
His master waited for him, and Obi-Wan moved close to Qui-Gon,
wanting to feel that cloak wrapped around him again. Qui-Gon
obliged him, embracing him, but Obi-Wan knew as soon as he
received it that that was not enough, not what he'd wanted. His
fingers went to the edges of his master's cloak, and then he
was inside it, still separated by layers of clothes from
touching flesh to flesh, but inside the cloak with Qui-Gon
instead of on the outside.
He sighed. Better.
Qui-Gon leaned his head down, resting his chin partially on
the top of Obi-Wan's head.
To Obi-Wan, he felt melancholy. Is something wrong?
I am... distressed, that I seem to have left so simple a
thing as physical comfort undone for you. I should have seen
how much you were in need of being touched. I could have given
you this no matter what my pain was.
Obi-Wan felt tears swelling, and didn't quite know why.
You're here now, he offered, trying to comfort his
master.
So I am. Qui-Gon's head moved, and Obi-Wan felt a kiss
being brushed on the top of his head. As are you.
Wickedly, Obi-Wan dared to ask, Is there anything
you're curious about?
"Perhaps one thing?"
He controlled his breathing with an effort. "And what is
that?"
"This." And with no more warning than that, he was being
mercilessly tickled, long fingers searching out all of his
ticklish spots -- the sides of his neck, which he curled his
neck to try to get away from him, his ribs, and up under his
arms, right up to his armpits. The under tunic he was wearing
made it easy for Qui-Gon to get access to his body, and Obi-Wan
twisted, trying to evade those hands.
But he was held tight by Qui-Gon's legs. And a good thing,
too, because otherwise he might have fallen. "Master,
please..."
"Yes, padawan?" Qui-Gon asked courteously, as though they were
standing at a function of state.
Obi-Wan laughed, and resisted the urge to shriek even as he
continued squirming in Qui-Gon's grasp. "I can't take much more
of this."
It wasn't quite the truth. He could take a great deal more if
he fell back on Jedi skills and distanced himself from the
sensations. But he wanted to feel this, wanted to feel
everything that Qui-Gon might choose to do with him.
As simple as that, the hands gentled, soothing over the
sensitized skin that had just been mercilessly ravaged, and
Qui-Gon released him, allowing him to stand upright on his own.
"Thank you, Obi-Wan, for allowing that."
He grinned. "Thank you for showing me." Then more shyly. "I
liked that."
"Did you?" Qui-Gon asked softly, hands dropping back, away
from Obi-Wan. "There is much more yet to come."
'There is more yet to come.' His master's words echoed through
Obi-Wan's mind, and sent tendrils of anticipation throughout
his body. They were starting slowly, oh so slowly, in this
physical bonding, but their feet were finally upon this path.
Obi-Wan could not think of a path that he more wished to walk.
He looked up at Qui-Gon, at his composed face, and the
expression lurking in his eyes. Control, patience, and even
desire hid there.
Obi-Wan wanted this, he needed this... but he hadn't a clue
how to proceed. It wasn't that he lacked in sexual experience.
He had that. Enough to know what he liked and to know that
who he liked was more important than 'what'. But this
partner was Qui-Gon, the best 'who' it could possibly be, and
they were not so much about to engage in lovemaking as to
perform a ritual which would bind their souls further together.
That was a little odd, and a great deal overwhelming. He
looked to his master for more guidance.
"Is there anything else you'd like to explore, Obi-Wan?" he
was asked by a gentle voice.
"Too many things," he answered honestly.
"Are you comfortable with me?" Qui-Gon asked, opening his arms
in demonstration. The sleeves of his cloak swung freely, and
the garment gaped open, revealing the tunic underneath. "With
this physical part of me that I am housed in?"
Obi-Wan started to nod, then shook his head.
Amused, his master asked, "Which is it?"
Both. He forced his thoughts to words. "You... I am
comfortable around you, have been comfortable, but... this is
new." New to be loved in return, new to know that he would soon
be aware of that familiar body in unfamiliar ways.
"New to me also." Qui-Gon began removing his cloak. "Indeed,
you have had more time to prepare for this than I have. You at
least have entertained the idea."
"Master?" Obi-Wan asked, puzzled by the lack of readiness he
heard from Qui-Gon. He thought he'd sensed Qui-Gon's desire,
and surely his master would have let him know in some way that
he felt he was being forced into this against his will. Obi-Wan
would never do that, most especially not to Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon folded the cloak and laid it down. "No, Obi-Wan. It's
not like that. Only that this idea is new and unfamiliar to me.
I want to be here with you. There are other routes that
the Mastering of the Physical can take if I did not so wish."
Obi-Wan realized again how fortunate he was to have Qui-Gon as
his master, and his partner in all things. To have been
soul-bonded and to have committed to it without this particular
sharing... he could have borne it, would have borne any burden
to be with his beloved master, but it would have hurt so much.
To be so close, and to know he could never go closer.
And then Qui-Gon was removing his belt, and all theoretical
concerns were cast aside. This was happening now, and this
moment was what mattered.
Obi-Wan's fingers itched to help. He wanted to touch, but felt
held back by invisible barriers, ones of custom and culture.
Those rules no longer applied here, not now, but he felt them
nonetheless, and he did not know how to make the crossing from
the stage of not touching to touching.
"Do you wish to assist me?" Qui-Gon paused in his disrobing.
Obi-Wan felt grateful for the excuse. "Yes, master."
Qui-Gon's hands stilled, and Obi-Wan found himself taking his
master's utility belt from those hands and placing it on top of
the discarded cloak.
When he turned back to Qui-Gon, the older man was waiting
patiently for him, hands at his sides. Obi-Wan unwound the sash
carefully, and placed it aside.
Obi-Wan felt a slow burn begin inside him as he removed the
outer tunic, hands brushing down the length of Qui-Gon's arms
as he slipped the long sleeves over his master's wrists. The
warm weight of the garment in his hands convinced him that this
was real, and he resisted the urge to rub his face against it
before he folded it and placed it on the growing stack of
clothing.
He paused then, just to look at Qui-Gon. They were both
attired somewhat informally, but not so informally that either
would hesitate to open the door to a visitor.
And yet the sight of his master as he was now felt stunning.
As though he'd never seen his master like this before, like a
man.
As I continue to remind you, I am but a man.
You are far more than that, came Obi-Wan's fervent
assurance.
"Very well then. As you do not believe me," hands took hold of
Obi-Wan's upper arms, tugging him gently toward Qui-Gon, "I
shall have to show you then."
Obi-Wan felt his head cradled, then those hands were in his
hair, touching him. His padawan braid was stroked between two
long fingers and savored, and then finally, the tail of hair at
the back of his neck was unfastened, letting his hair fall
free, the better to be touched. And Qui-Gon did, the brushing
of hair and fingertips across the nape of his neck causing
Obi-Wan to shiver and hold himself very still for more of that
touch.
"Master?" Obi-Wan managed.
"Hmm?" Qui-Gon replied, apparently intent on his study of his
padawan's neck.
"This is not convincing me."
"It should." Qui-Gon brought his hands around to the level of
Obi-Wan's face. "Look, I have two hands. They are solid and
physical. Ordinary hands. And I am using them," his hands moved
back up again, one into Obi-Wan's hair, the other one resting
along the side of his face, allowing the thumb to make slow
circles over the swell of his cheek, "to touch you. Nothing
more complicated than that. Only a touch."
"Your touch," Obi-Wan corrected. "That makes it
special."
Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow at him, but did not protest
further. Instead he resumed his slow, steady examination of
Obi-Wan's head.
Obi-Wan reached out, to touch his master more than he needed
the balance, hands finding their way to Qui-Gon's waist.
His master stepped back from him, enough to allow Obi-Wan room
for exploration, although Qui-Gon's own hands never left
Obi-Wan.
Still a little surprised by this new freedom, Obi-Wan was slow
to use it, first contenting himself with the feel of his
master's waist against the flat of his palms. But as he grew
more confident, feeling Qui-Gon's body swaying into him, and
knowing that this was not only allowed but required, Obi-Wan's
hands began to explore. He examined the clothed planes of the
body under his fingers, touching his master with care and love.
It was so much more than he had ever had of Qui-Gon, this
freedom. This time and place where everything was allowed. So
strange, and yet so perfectly right.
His fingers found their way under the tunic, and to bare skin
below. He gasped a little as he made contact with that skin, at
the feel of part of Qui-Gon's stomach under the tips of two
fingers.
It was so little, and yet it seemed so much more.
"Is it supposed to be like this?" he asked. As though even
the most minor of things are important? I have never
experienced anything like this. Is every joining like this when
you're soul bonded, or is this just this ritual, or is it
something else entirely? "There weren't very many details
in the book you gave me. I mean..."
"I do not know. This is my first time at creating a soul bond
as well. Neither of us is the master of this process. In this,
we are learners together."
Obi-Wan wasn't sure if that sounded reassuring or frightening.
It didn't matter, though, for Qui-Gon had moved from exploring
his head to exploring his shoulders, and that touch collapsed
any resistance he might have made. Qui-Gon massaged the sore
points of his back, near the spine and again under the edges of
his shoulder blades where the living Force pulsed angrily
around blocked energy channels. It was good, so very good.
And there was so much more to come. He hoped this would be a
ritual he lived through.
Qui-Gon's mind was almost as close to his as his own heartbeat
now, and Obi-Wan felt the mental chuckle. "Again, padawan, you
have far too flattering an opinion of my abilities."
And you have no idea how stressed my shielding truly
is. He had healed some from yesterday's ordeal, but he had
been craving the full soul bonding for days now, and the need
to unite was quite strong within him.
I have some idea. He stepped away from Obi-Wan, tracing
the slim, taut figure with his eyes. "I think it would be wise
if we completely disrobe now. I would not want to have to deal
with the results of spontaneous combustion should you suddenly
explode, as you put it. I'm sure the master in charge of the
laundry would be less than happy with me should our clothing
become blood-stained without good cause."
He was being teased. Obi-Wan didn't mind. It seemed like a
serious enough possibility to him. He stripped the remainder of
his light clothing away, putting the clothes down neatly.
Qui-Gon undressed more slowly, and Obi-Wan found himself
watching every second of it, enthralled by the gracefulness of
his master's movements, and what was gradually being revealed
to him.
A nude body that he had seen many times before this night
through the long years of their acquaintanceship, but one that
meant more to him tonight than it ever had. A body which would
be shared with him soon. One that was inseparably tied, on this
plane, to the persona of the man he loved more than anything or
anyone. Even the Jedi, even the Force. Qui-Gon embodied all
that was good, all that was worth living for, and at that
moment, nothing seemed good that was not first filtered through
the lens that was Qui-Gon.
That was it, Obi-Wan decided. He was losing control of his
mind as a result of the bonding process.
But the sight before his eyes, and what would follow this
evening, meant so much to him...
...and finally both of them were nude, standing there in the
growing coolness of the room, studying each other closely.
Obi-Wan's eyes tracked the smooth passage of strength and
fluidity through Qui-Gon's frame, and the echoing of the man in
the posture of that body, in the way he held himself. No one
else would have stood that way, with Jedi stillness, and yet, a
coiled energy under the surface that seemed to reach out for
Obi-Wan, seemed to pull him closer.
Do you think you are the only one who has these feelings,
knows this wonder? Qui-Gon asked, interrupting Obi-Wan's
quiet reverie. He allowed Obi-Wan to see through his eyes, to
look at Obi-Wan and appreciate the clean lines of his body, of
the thin but powerful nature of his muscles, and the eyes large
and lambent, reflecting back the joy of Qui-Gon's regard in
him.
"This is what I want," Obi-Wan whispered, half to himself. "I
have what I want."
"I'm glad you want me, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon said, a smile
twitching at the edges of his lips. "That will make this
easier."
Obi-Wan wanted it easy, he wanted it hard, he wanted
everything in all the ways and combinations that Qui-Gon could
possibly provide. Instead he stood there, chest heaving and
decided what to do. Controlling his breathing came first, then
came the inevitable doubt. What next? I wish I knew what to
do.
"If my reactions are any gauge, you are doing fine, Obi-Wan,"
his master said.
"What now?" he asked softly.
"You have seen me unclothed before, I hope, without traces of
hidden disgust..."
"No, of course not, master."
Qui-Gon understood. "Good. Then I wish you to touch the same
territory you have seen, and grow familiar with me that way,
also."
"I'm not sure, master..." Obi-Wan said apprehensively. He
wanted to, yes, but he knew he was not completely in mental
control of himself, and did not wish to cause damage by the
wrong action.
Qui-Gon had no such doubts. "I am."
Obi-Wan took a long moment to react. Naked. His master was
standing there completely naked.
And waiting for Obi-Wan to touch him.
Obi-Wan was certain that he had never done anything good
enough in his life to deserve this. A Jedi sought not reward
and, in any case, he was still learning, merely following his
master's lead. He'd done nothing, saved no world from dying and
prevented no disaster from occurring. Surely he should not be
here, surely someone else should be in his place...
It is not a matter of deserving, Obi-Wan, but a matter of
what is necessary and right.
Obi-Wan nodded, not entirely certainly why, except that
agreeing with his master was a habit even when, or especially
when, he wasn't listening closely. His attention now was
riveted on Qui-Gon's body. Or more specifically, on his hips.
On the way his stomach curved down to those hip bones,
suggesting so much and drawing his eyes even lower. Yes,
master.
Qui-Gon chuckled.
Obi-Wan felt his face heat, suddenly brought to the awareness
that he hadn't quite been paying attention to the conversation.
It's fine, love. There are more important concerns at the
moment. Qui-Gon bridged the gap between them, taking
Obi-Wan's hands in his own. I believe you were wanting to
touch this?
His hands were placed flat against Qui-Gon's midsection, and
Obi-Wan traced over the area at which he had so recently been
looking, skimming down, finding those luscious hipbones and
stroking them. Even under his hands, their arch was apparent.
The curve demanded that his hands move lower and follow them
downward.
He did.
And felt the softness under his searching fingers, the crinkle
of hair.
Qui-Gon inhaled sharply, but did not move. "Do you like that,
Obi-Wan?" he asked huskily.
Obi-Wan nodded. He released his grip, and his hands moved back
up, across Qui-Gon's stomach again, and up to the broad chest,
and still higher until his fingers delicately traced Qui-Gon's
clavicle. "Yes, master."
"Do you feel comfortable yet with me?"
Comfortable? He had stepped closer to Qui-Gon without making a
conscious decision to do so, his body very nearly touching his
master's nude form, almost brushing against it. To think that
only a short time before, he had been shy of seeking out his
master's arms.
"I think so."
"Good." Qui-Gon's hands came up, but he did not touch Obi-Wan.
Instead, they hovered a few inches above his arms. "May I?"
"Oh, please."
Obi-Wan's eyelids hovered on the edge of closing as those
hands grazed his arms, bringing the skin to full awareness
without the satisfaction that a full touch would have given it.
Qui-Gon's hands moved lower as well, darting behind him to test
the vertebrae in his spine, down nearly to his pelvis, then
they came around again, to explore his hips.
Fingers tested his navel, causing Obi-Wan to squirm, and then
his breath hissed in as Qui-Gon's hands went lower still.
Qui-Gon did not content himself with a brief, hesitant
exploration as Obi-Wan had, but instead, touched him in the
same way he had touched Obi-Wan's face and hair before, as if
making a thorough examination for later report to the Council.
Fingers ran through the hair at his groin, stroking it,
exploring the texture and brushing it into order.
Then they moved down still further.
Obi-Wan's eyes, half-lidded, snapped open, and he looked up at
Qui-Gon. His master was looking directly at him, and his gaze
held Obi-Wan transfixed as his half-erection was lifted, and
fingers slipped around it, testing his length, feeling out the
veins beneath the skin and finding his pulse beat.
He wanted to collapse then and there, but was kept in place by
Qui-Gon's eyes. They pinned him, and he could not flinch away
or to.
The extra skin around the head of his penis was pulled gently
back, leaving him exposed and trembling. But the touch remained
gentle, and he was discovered, not teased. Every secret of his
body was being sought out by Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan only wanted
more.
Then the sweet pressure was removed, and Obi-Wan gasped in
pain.
Why? came the silent cry as he looked into Qui-Gon's
face.
Immediately he was reassured, by a mental caress as well as a
physical one. Qui-Gon pulled him close until they were
touching, bodies swaying together. It is only that I could
not reach to continue, my love.
Uncomprehendingly, Obi-Wan stared at his master. Not reach?
His master could reach perfectly fine. It had been that Obi-Wan
didn't want him to stop.
Then he understood. Qui-Gon wanted to explore further. It
wasn't quite what Obi-Wan's body was demanding, but anything,
anything that Qui-Gon wanted had to be right. He hungered to be
touched again. We could lie down, he suggested
hopefully.
We could. Hands brushed over his back in slow, soothing
motions. We have completed the first step, I believe, and
are well into the next.
And what is that, master?
We must accept our findings. If this were not to be a
physical joining as well as a opening, then that would be all
we need do. And, indeed, we may stop there now, if you wish.
There is no need to continue today. The mastering of the
physical element of a relationship is not necessarily about
sexual interaction.
Obi-Wan was taken aback. Was that why Qui-Gon had gone no
further? If so, why had he gone that far at all? It was cruelty
if he had only meant to stop. Obi-Wan probed his master's
feelings, seeking an answer. You don't mean that, he
accused, as he found, with relief, Qui-Gon's own desire.
A mental sigh, and then, But I have to give you the option,
padawan.
You do not have to protect me against everything,
master, Obi-Wan said, stressing the title. I also am a
man. Not simply someone you must tend and watch over.
And if I would like to?
Obi-Wan desired very much then that he was taller, because he
wanted so badly to kiss Qui-Gon, to penetrate him and be one
with him in even that limited way.
As you wish, my love.
And Qui-Gon was bending over him, lowering his mouth so that
Obi-Wan could reach it. Qui-Gon held back from the kiss,
waiting for Obi-Wan, a gesture his apprentice much appreciated.
Obi-Wan wanted this, wanted to initiate this.
And he did.
He pressed his lips against Qui-Gon's, feeling the firm
pressure meeting him, then twisted his head slightly, searching
for a deeper kiss.
Qui-Gon's lips opened under his, and eagerly Obi-Wan took
advantage of that openness, tasting Qui-Gon.
They had kissed before. Passionately, even. But this was
something new even so. A kiss that could go so much farther,
that did not need to be reined in, that could be followed to
its natural conclusion.
He wanted more still. More than a meeting of lips, more than a
mere promise of things to come. He'd thought this contact would
be enough, would begin to satisfy the urge within him to be
fully joined with Qui-Gon, but instead, it only worsened the
need. It showed him what little he had, and hinted at so much
more that he could have.
Gasping, Obi-Wan broke away, resting his forehead against the
coolness of Qui-Gon's chest.
Arms embraced him soothingly. "If it was too much...?"
Too much? he asked, unable to form words any other way
than mentally yet. It was not enough, master.
"Ah." He could feel Qui-Gon's amusement, and knew then from
their close mental contact that the amusement was a part of
Qui-Gon only because of him. He had brought this laughter into
Qui-Gon's life, and Qui-Gon would not willingly lose it.
Obi-Wan smiled back, sharing in the affection and warmth. "May
we move to the bed, master?"
Qui-Gon's eyes darkened, and this time, he kissed Obi-Wan, a
quick but thorough assessment that left Obi-Wan trembling
again.
Stepping to the bed, his master pulled him along. Obi-Wan
went. Joyfully. Greedily. With a deep want, and knowing that
the want would finally be fulfilled.
They sat down, and Obi-Wan let himself fall backward,
sprawling out on the wide bed.
Qui-Gon turned to regard him. "Happy?"
"Very. I'd be happier though if you were lying down as well."
"That's easily done."
And then Qui-Gon laid down next to him, on his side. His hand
moved to Obi-Wan's thigh.
Obi-Wan's breathing fluttered, and then he calmed it, the
better to experience these sensations.
Qui-Gon tested the muscles in his thighs, teased the sensitive
insides, then moved down to his knees. He found the tickle
spot, then searched out the ligaments connecting the muscles of
his calves to his knees. One leg at a time, Qui-Gon rubbed
them, until Obi-Wan was intensely glad that he was lying down,
for he was certain that his knees were too weak to support him
should he stand.
He lolled back, simply processing the sensations Qui-Gon was
producing in his body. The rest of his body was just as
respectfully mapped under those knowing hands, and finally,
finally, Qui-Gon returned to lie beside him.
Have you finished?
I've just begun.
Obi-Wan reached out to his master, putting his arms around
him, and then tugged him down. He wanted Qui-Gon's body
touching his. Why do I need this so much, master? I know, I
believe I know that the mental connection is more
important than a mere physical liaison, and yet... yet I
want this, I want our lovemaking so much more. What is
wrong with me?
Nothing is wrong. Qui-Gon settled against him, leaning
his weight against Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan shuddered and curled into
his master.
A caress of his cheek centered him, and he asked, How can
nothing be wrong?
Because, love, this is normal. Of that much I am certain. A
soul bond demands the fullest consummation that the
participants in it can give. We are capable of a full bonding,
on every level, including the physical, and what you feel is
that demand.
Then it is not wrong to place the physical above the
mental?
Say instead that they must be in balance, and as we have
already mastered the emotional, so must we the physical.
He knew that. Obi-Wan was sure he knew that. So why then had
he needed to ask?
His need must be confusing him. He'd already noticed
impairment of his mental processes. The deterioration must be
getting worse.
Then we must satisfy the demand of the bond.
Go back to part 1
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