Wind to Fire

by Emrin Alexander

Pairing: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan
Archive: MA
Category: AU, First Time
Ratings: R
Warnings: A small tale. Naboo references, but AU.
Spoilers: None
Thanks To: Trinity for patience with idea bouncing and always constructive beta.
Summary: After six years on different paths, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan reconnect.

"Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the
small, it enkindles the great."
                                  Comte DeBussy-Rabutin

Qui-Gon Jinn smoothed out an imaginary crease in the sleeve of his dark dress tunic and sighed. Another diplomatic reception, a routine one, held by Chancellor Valorum in conjunction with the Jedi Council every year. It was the first of these affairs that Qui-Gon had attended in six years. Missions and assignments had taken him away from Coruscant for much of that time, a circumstance he could not truly say he regretted.

This reception was being held in the huge Senate Audience Hall. A cavernous space left over from the days of the early Republic when petitioners arrived in droves with their wants and Senators had been expected to stop, to listen, and to aide. The petitioners were long gone; the Audience Hall's continued existence was in doubt (an ever expanding Republic membership placing office space at a premium). But for this evening, the room had been turned into a wonderland of crystal glow lights, shimmer lanterns hanging from frosted trinium stands, and elegantly draped tables groaning under the weight of heavy platters of delicacies from a plethora of different worlds. Harsh marble heights were hidden by Solanji silk banners which hung, like delicate spider webs, rippling in the slightest breath of air.

All in all, it was meant to impress, and the ambiance did. Senators mingled with Jedi Masters, Knights and senior Padawans. Aides, secretaries and assistants wove themselves deftly among the throng, overlaying all was a free-fall of babble.

"I thought you weren't going to be here?"

Qui-Gon turned and smiled at his questioner. "Finny. How could I miss this?"

Finis Valorum grinned. "Miss the annual ass-kissing bash? Isn't that how you so eloquently term it?"

"How kind of you to remind me. I said that 20 years ago."

"A long memory is a requisite in my job, Qui. By the way, your apprentice is here."

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "What apprentice?"

"Young Kenobi. Arrived about an hour ago. My aide tells me he's here...somewhere." Valorum managed to look about, his puzzled expression clearly indicating that he fully expected Kenobi to materialize out of the ether.

Qui-Gon suppressed a most un-Jedi like snort. "Knight Kenobi hasn't been my apprentice in six years. Not since Naboo." He was quite pleased that he could say the name of that wretched planet without flinching.

"Is it that long? He's been here every year for the reception too, and you," Finis Valorum paused for a moment, then went on, "have not. Coincidence?" I think not. Though being a career politician, Chancellor Valorum had the decorum not to voice the words.

"I have no idea, Finny. Have you nothing better to do than talk to me?" Qui-Gon made his words light, refusing to be drawn.

Valorum bowed. "There is nothing I prefer to catching up with old friends. And," he turned his head and his face lit up in a beaming smile, "speaking of old friends, here is my aide, Tres, and your app...Knight Kenobi." Still beaming, he extended one elegant hand toward the men in question, and drew them into the charmed circle.

Tres Jardath was a Danarrian, short, scaled, his skin shown silver under the subdued lighting. A tall, lean man, looking all the taller and leaner in contrast to the squat Danarrian, Obi-Wan Kenobi was, this evening, in dress black, long auburn hair pulled back in a tail.

Qui-Gon catalogued the changes in his former apprentice: the hair - far from the spiky Padawan cut of memory, this was a long fall of auburn silk, which unbound would cascade well below Obi-Wan's shoulders, the increased planes and angles of his face, the lines around his eyes that spoke of time and experience earned. 31 years old, self-possessed, beholden to no one.

"Knight Kenobi." Qui-Gon spoke first, formally, and bowed. He fought back a sudden desire to fling himself into his former apprentice's arms, and wondered with a kind of horrified fascination, how Obi-Wan would react if he did.

Something lit the changeable eyes that were almost black in the reflected glow lights, but was gone too quickly for Qui-Gon to identify it. The Force rippled around them, eddying; when he tried to put a name to the feeling emanating from it, the eddies capriciously skittered away.

"Master Jinn." Obi-Wan returned the bow and the greeting, his voice pitched lower than Qui-Gon remembered.

Valorum was eyeing them both with what could only be described as satisfaction. "Well, I'll leave you two - I'm certain you must have a great deal to catch up on. Six years, to be exact. Come Tres, we must go annoy the Trade Federation Ambassador."

They departed, with only a sparse acknowledgement from the two Jedi.

Silence stretched between them, all the more marked for the chatter swirling around them. Finally, Obi-Wan breached it. "This is the first time I've seen you at one of these receptions since just after my knighting."

"Yes, as the Chancellor pointed out. I've been elsewhere." A brilliant observation, Jinn. Why are my wits deserting me?

Smiling faintly, Obi-Wan nodded. "And Master Windu tells me you have not yet taken a new Padawan."

"No." That came out a bit abruptly and Qui-Gon tried again. "I find I have no wish to do so."

He watched, fascinated, as the planes and angles of Obi-Wan's face softened at those words. "Chasing after me for a dozen years was enough?"

"More than enough." Abruptly that struck him as amusing and apparently it did Obi-Wan too, because he grinned, and Qui-Gon felt an answering smile on his own lips. A strong feeling of deja vu washed over Qui-Gon. How could he have forgotten how good it felt to simply stand in a room next to Obi-Wan?

He'd never meant to quite so completely lose touch with this man. The dozen years of Obi-Wan's apprenticeship hadn't been trouble free - how boring that would have been - but Qui-Gon had come to love his Padawan with fierce protectiveness and he'd been equally proud of his apprentice's accomplishments as Obi-Wan grew from a rather reserved, shy boy into a confident, well-centered man.

And then had come the mission to Naboo - their last together as master and apprentice, as it turned out. In the aftermath, Obi-Wan was knighted, his braid cut, his feet firmly placed upon the path they'd both worked toward so single-mindedly. Absorbed in their work, not sent on missions that overlapped, they drifted apart. A similar ending to a similar story lived by thousands of Jedi every year.

With the exception that Qui-Gon was curiously uninterested in training another Padawan. Instead, he'd opted for the Jedi- equivalent of a high-wire act: complex and delicate negotiations, frequently moving behind the scenes as the Chancellor's special envoy. He'd tracked his former apprentice's career, always expecting him to team up with another Jedi, though Obi-Wan had not done so. Nor had he yet taken a Padawan of his own.

"I would have expected you to have chosen an apprentice by now, Obi- Wan."

His grin fading, Obi-Wan shook his head slightly. "Not yet. I'm not...ready."

Qui-Gon noted the faint hesitation and wondered what lay behind it. Once, he would have asked, but he was no longer the Master here, and had no right to command Knight Kenobi's confidences. Instead he changed the subject. "You last mission - now that was an interesting report, and Master Yoda tells me there was much more to it than the official record."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Not as difficult as our last mission."

There it was again. Naboo. A ridiculous name for a beautiful planet.

"I don't think," Qui-Gon answered, choosing his words with care, "that many missions are as difficult as Naboo." There. He'd managed the word again, without flinching.

Obi-Wan laughed. "That's one way of putting it." He glanced around the room, which was growing exceedingly crowded, despite its huge size. "Would you be interested in. . .catching up somewhere less noisy?"

Qui-Gon noted the slight hesitation in the invitation, and felt his pulses speed up. "I would like that very much, Obi-Wan."

"Follow me." Obi-Wan took two steps and then turned back to regard Qui-Gon quizzically. "What is it?"

Qui-Gon stepped beside him. "I was just thinking how many times I've said that to you."

"I've noticed the more things change, the more they stay the same." Obi-Wan held out a hand. Qui-Gon took it, their fingers twining together with complete familiarity.

The short air car ride back to the Jedi Temple was accomplished in comfortable silence. Qui-Gon was surprised to find that Obi-Wan's quarters were only a floor above his own.

"So close, and I never realized it."

Obi-Wan waved the lights up and tossed his formal outer tunic over the back of a chair. "You haven't been home more than a dozen days in the last six years, Qui-Gon. Come to that - neither have I. Would you like some brandy?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. For some reason, he felt it was imperative he keep his wits about him. "I'd rather have tea, if it is no trouble?"

That got him a warm smile. "Nothing easier." Obi-Wan disappeared into the kitchen, and Qui-Gon thought about removing his own outer formal tunic, decided against it, then decided he was being an idiot and tossed the heavy silk garment on top of Obi-Wan's.

He sat on the edge of an overstuffed chair and studied the common room with interest. Obi-Wan's quarters were little different in layout than his own. Transparasteel windows formed the outer wall, cool pale wood flooring gleamed under foot, overstuffed chairs and two short sofas finished the appointments. The sofas faced each other across a flat serving table with an intricately carved Triderri crystal inlay. The inner walls were covered in shelves, housing everything from paper books (a liking acquired from Qui-Gon), to holopics, to the models that Obi-Wan had always loved to make.

The most prominently displayed holopic was a large, framed pic of himself and Obi-Wan on Obi's knighting day. Qui-Gon studied it with interest, for it was one he had not seen before. Obi-Wan was smiling into the holocam. The Qui-Gon in the picture had eyes only for his former Padawan.

Qui-Gon flushed as he realized how much of his own inner emotions were displayed for all the world to see. He'd no idea his guard had dropped so much.

"Bant took that." Qui-Gon was a Jedi Master. He did not jump, but a shiver ran up his spine on finding that Obi-Wan had materialized by his elbow.

Obi-Wan went on softly. "Do you remember? Everyone had left our quarters, except for Bant, Mace and Yoda. She wanted one more pic."

"I do, now. Mace was teasing you about your first assignment being a Ghjandi brothel on the outer rim."

"And all because he found out I was the mastermind behind the great Masters' Netmail Switch Around." Obi-Wan tried to look put-out and failed. He gestured toward the serving table where a tray with a ceramic pot and two cups now waited. "Tea?"

Qui-Gon sat down on the sofa, nonplussed and yet gratified when Obi- Wan chose to sit beside him. He picked up a steaming cup and sipped. "Desan. You remembered."

"How could I not? I made enough pots of it over the years. Besides, I like it too."

When had Obi-Wan removed his boots? Qui-Gon watched indulgently as Obi-Wan put his bare feet up on the table with a fine disregard for the carvings, and sighed happily.

"I still hate getting dressed up."

"So do I. Fortunately," Qui-Gon drank some more tea, "of late I've not had to."

"Special envoy for the Chancellor." At Qui-Gon's look he smiled. "Tres told me the outline. Deep cover. Behind the scenes negotiating."

"Well, it was necessary." He put his cup down on the tea tray. "You've been spending quite a bit of time on the Rim."

"All the trouble spots seem to be there." Obi-Wan likewise deposited his cup on the tray. "Why did you let me go?"

Qui-Gon did not pretend to misunderstand the question. "Because you had the right to find your own path, because you nearly died to protect me, because..." he trailed off, realizing that all those things were true and were ephemeral. Obi-Wan was watching him with eyes of deepest green, a sure sign, he knew, that his former Padawan was experiencing the strongest of emotions. "Because I was afraid."

"Of me?" Obi-Wan asked him, disbelief in his voice.

"Of you, of myself, of life, I think." Qui-Gon turned so that he was facing Obi-Wan. "You nearly died on NBA."

Obi-Wan laughed, without humor. "I know. I still have the saber scars to prove it."

"I didn't want to lose you." Qui-Gon couldn't seem to stop his fingers from picking at the nubby threads that comprised the sofa's covering fabric.

Strangely, that pronouncement seemed to make sense to Obi-Wan. "So you pushed me out of the nest and never let yourself look back."

"Yes."

"Qui-Gon Jinn - you're an idiot."

Qui-Gon stopped picking the fabric of the couch into shreds. "Yes."

"I'm not going anywhere." Obi-Wan leaned closer, his hands coming up to frame Qui-Gon's face. "I never should have gone anywhere in the first place."

"We've both been idiots."

"Yes."

He'd never dreamed that Obi-Wan's lips could be so soft. Or that he would taste like Desan tea, Cinnari spices and something that was uniquely Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon's hands traced restless patterns up and down Obi- Wan's back, before settling on the curve of his ass.

Obi-Wan moaned, low in his throat and moved closer, so that he straddled Qui-Gon's lap. He pressed close from chest to groin, and Qui-Gon could feel his erection throbbing against his stomach. Who broke the kiss he could not say, but they stayed very still, foreheads together, gasping for breath, for what seemed like eternity. Then Obi-Wan got to his feet, pulling Qui-Gon up with him. "Come to bed."

"Yes." Qui-Gon said and followed him.

It was good. He'd known it would be that. But there were little things that took him by surprise, Qui-Gon thought as he lay sprawled in Obi-Wan's big bed, a sleeping Obi-Wan wrapped tightly around him.

Qui-Gon had never considered his eyebrows to be erogenous zones. Yet when Obi-Wan traced them with feather light touches and even lighter kisses, Qui-Gon was amazed at the intensity of his response. With Obi-Wan's lithe body blanketing Qui-Gon's, it'd taken considerable control not to simply thrust upward and take his release then and there.

He had expected the usual awkwardness attendant on the first time with any lover. And found there was none. The only emotions he'd felt when taking off his clothing were impatience that the formal garb was so complicated and, a little later, delight in the fact that Obi-Wan obviously found an unclothed, vibrantly aroused Qui-Gon beautiful.

Though how anyone would spare one so ordinary as himself a glance, when his Obi-Wan was in the room . . . Qui-Gon tightened his hold on the warm, sleekly muscled body plastered against his, and smiled into the always not quite darkness of the Coruscant night. He supposed he was a bit biased.

Qui-Gon had used his lips and hands to learn Obi-Wan's body, mapping scars new and remembered. When he reached the thin, white lines that crossed Obi-Wan's stomach, the only visible reminders of what occurred on Naboo, Qui-Gon's knees had given way. It was Obi-Wan who drew Qui's shaking body up into a firm embrace. Their loving had been intense and eager, strength of emotion making up whatever might be lacking in finesse. Qui-Gon was swept along, out of control and, for once, not minding at all.

But what was a man supposed to do when he suddenly awoke to the realization that he was and always had been, in love with his Padawan? It seemed perfectly obvious to him now. He'd been willfully blind for years.

Thank the Force that Obi-Wan had finally had the sense and the courage (or "desperation" as Obi-Wan termed it shortly before snuggling to sleep), to ask Valorum to make sure he didn't miss Qui- Gon at this year's reception. Qui-Gon smiled again, thinking that he'd never seen Finny as a matchmaker.

In this instance more than bodies had been joined. He closed his eyes, slowing his breathing, matching the rhythm set by Obi-Wan. They were in synchronicity now. Their old training bond was long gone. What connected them was a new, deeper connection forged along different pathways, contained power humming between them.

They would probably request to be assigned together, but this would not be a necessity. The bond between them was psychic. Independent of the flesh, it tied them tighter than ropes and was more flexible than water. A lot of rubbish was talked about soul bonds joining lovers at the hip. In truth, such a bond offered the greatest kind of freedom. Qui-Gon could go anywhere in the galaxy, even never set eyes on Obi-Wan again, and still they would always be together.

"What are you doing all this thinking about?" Obi-Wand's voice was sleepy, but distinct. Warm breath on his still sensitized skin made Qui-Gon shiver.

"Us."

"Anything in particular?"

"I rather like being bonded."

Obi-Wan laughed. "It's only been a few hours, Qui. I hope so."

Qui-Gon dropped a kiss on the top of his lover's head. "Doesn't matter. I still like it."

"I shall remind you of that at the next Reception we attend." Obi- Wan raised up and grinned, then leaned closer, his lips almost touching Qui-Gon's.

"Do that."

They shared another smile, and then their almost-touching became touching and there was no need for further thought.

fin