Master Apprentice
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Title: Sound of Snow Falling
Author: TheWrongImpressionist
Beta: MerryAmelie
Archive: MasterApprentice, Fanfiction.net
Category: Qui/Obi, Crossover, Alternate Reality, Romance, Action/Adventure
Rating: PG-13, possible eventual R
Summary: in which Obi-Wan gets an education in the Living Force (whether he wants it or not), Qui-Gon further embraces his not-so-inner maverick, and Voldemort engages in a little biological warfare.
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated at tukitaka@gmail.com, as writing fiction is very hard for me, and I take great pains to produce quality work.
(back to Chapter 11)
-twelve-
-heart of the sunrise-
They become local curiosities; as they make no attempt to hide their presence (and as Obi-Wan's dramatic introduction during the droideka attack is far from forgotten), they soon attract the child wizards like moths to a flame. Qui-Gon especially; Obi-Wan's somewhat taciturn disposition does not invite the open inquiry that his Master's more expansive presence encourages.
He watches his Master with them, presence lithe and strong and gentle and controlled as a lion humoring cubs. They flock to him. In good spirits, he laughs and his face turns into something beautiful, something Obi-Wan wants -
Where once he would have struck down the thought aggressively, now he lets it come and go, naturally, though the temptation is heady to grab the feeling and wrap himself in it tightly. With his affection for his Master as his focus, his meditations of late leave him feeling warm and calm, but yearning, even with patchouli – known for its grounding qualities – as his aid.
Qui-Gon must feel his fluctuation of emotion; he glances over, and Obi-Wan shifts his gaze, demurely. He feels Qui-Gon watching him carefully. Then he looks away and tends to his flock.
Obi-Wan returns his gaze to his Master. He's playing a game of his own with Qui-Gon, one in which he hides the truth his Master seeks. Eventually he'll lose. But he is not eager for the inevitable, so he postpones it as best he can; by leaving conversations before they approach dangerous ground, by keeping his Master always busy with one curious witch or another, by mind's absence through meditation. He goes unreachable.
He suspects this is not proper Jedi behavior. But he has this accomplishment as counterweight: since discovering and meditating upon the old Code, the strangling compulsion of Jitong has muted, and he has not indulged in that vice. He has found some measure of peace, finally, and it drifts upon him from time to time like the drop of a snowflake in his mind.
“-always pictured aliens as little green men,” the young, black-haired wizard says sheepishly, to which Qui-Gon laughs. A sound like wind through leaves; softly brushing through everyone there. Obi-Wan lets it fill him.
Along their bond, his Master sends the image of Yoda, and Obi-Wan unexpectedly laughs.
They turn to him, surprised. He supposes none have heard him laugh before; involuntarily, he wishes he were alone with his Master to share this moment, instead of as spectacle. His laugh is not entertainment.
His laugh silences. He stands; he can't be here any longer.
And though he tells himself he flees the child wizards and their invasive thirst, he suspects it is his Master he escapes, and the thought only makes his yearning worse but he can't find it in himself to change that fact. He leaves, sits outside atop the remnants of crusted snow with the help of the Force, feels his Master's acceptance of his choice to leave, and is inexplicably sad.
~*~
The youths they've met before – those they shared a house with – become frequent visitors, stopping by between classes to knock at their door with eager faces, asking question after question. Some his Master answers; others, Obi-Wan greets with silence, stepping in gracefully to waylay those inquiries he knows his Master would not want answered. And so, day by day, a new sort of rapport is formed, one based on mutual curiosity; for his Master is just as openly interested in the way the wizards use the Force, channeled through their wands despite their limited Force sensitivity.
“This planet, Obi-Wan,” his Master says one afternoon, watching the girl levitate their coffee table with nothing more than a flick of her wand, “plays a large role in the wizards' application of the Force, I believe.”
Obi-Wan watches the girl set the table down neatly, and turn, her two friends following suit, to him and his Master. “I agree, Master,” he says, knowing all three are listening raptly.
“What do you mean?” the girl asks. “You're saying our magic is specific to this planet?”
“Precisely,” his Master says with the satisfaction of a teacher to a student.
“So if we left the planet,” the red-haired one questions, “we wouldn't be able to use magic?” There is a certain apprehension in his voice, carefully hidden, but one that leaks through in the anxious glances he shares with his year-mates.
Obi-Wan can recognize that fear. To have one's way of life stripped away and to be left defenseless – this, he thinks, and remembers his imprisonment on Yachta – this, he understands.
And because he sympathizes, he wishes he had a different answer. “Correct,” he responds with as much compassion as he can muster, to soften the blow. As it is, all three look at him, startled, perhaps, at his bluntness. Obi-Wan feels the need to explain. “There are two aspects of the Force – the Living and the Unifying. This planet is inundated with the Living; it surrounds us, penetrates us. It binds this planet together. Witches and wizards are merely those who have varying levels of sensitivity to the Living, and, more rarely, Unifying Force. Through the cores of your wands, given from creatures who are further connected to the Force – unicorns, dragons, phoenixes – you are able to harmonize with it on a level passing your innate abilities. The Living Force of this planet is so boundless-” he closes his eyes momentarily, before opening them again. “-I cannot begin to describe how it feels to you. But it is this vastness of the Living Force that gives you the ability to perform magic that would not be possible off-world.”
“So,” the girl summarizes, her expression intent and lit up with interest, “our wands have bits of the Living Force in them, which is what makes up this planet, and what we call magic is actually an application of the Force that the Earth supplies. And if we left Earth, we wouldn't be able to connect with its Living Force anymore, so we'd – well, not lose, precisely, but you understand what I mean – we'd lose our magic.”
Obi-Wan nods. “Yes. Although there may be other planets such as yours, inundated with the Living Force, on which you could execute spells. The Living Force is not unique to any one planet; it is universal. Your planet just possesses greater concentrations, perhaps because of a broader diversity of life.” He feels a bit strange, explaining to these children as if he were the Master, not the Padawan, and spares a glance at Qui-Gon. Is this how he felt, teaching Obi-Wan year after year? This mix of patience and a desire to instill true comprehension?
Qui-Gon looks at him, and smiles; and through their bond, Obi-Wan senses his pride.
Without truly knowing its origin, he feels a flutter of warmth.
“However,” he continues, turning back, “it will not be your magic that serves you well when your planet's people do make their first forays into space.” He leans forward. “It will be your ingenuity, perseverance, and trust in each other that will allow you to flourish in a greater world.”
He sees that sinking in; discerns his Master's quiet approbation of his response, both explanation and balm to soothe fears.
“You think we'll do alright,” the dark-haired one states. “Because we're, well, creative?” His tone isn't doubtful, but he is unsure, and he looks from one Jedi to the other for clarification. It is a far cry from his previous accusatory behavior, and a testament to his character that he accepts his newfound humility without struggle.
“A spell to give one the form of an animal?” His Master inquires mildly, and three heads turn towards him. “A spell to regrow bones? A spell to make one insatiably ticklish?” He smiles. “I think these are very inventive things, indeed, and it assuredly requires hard work, imagination, and collaboration to actualize such spells. They are certainly uses of the Force I have never seen. Obi-Wan has never tickled me with the Force,” he adds impishly, and Obi-Wan shoots Qui-Gon a look as the young wizards and witch giggle.
“Master,” he chastises. His Master is unrepentant; there is a sparkle in his eye that speaks of mischief.
“Of course, should he try,” Qui-Gon continues, ignoring entirely his Padawan's pointed gaze, “he would find himself on the receiving end of a retaliatory attack.” His grin is roguish; Obi-Wan watches his eyes turn up at the corner in a smile – a smile just for him – and feels his exasperation fade, as his insides give a squeeze and a tender longing takes hold of his heart.
“Master,” he says again, but this time his tone is quiet, his affection carried easily through his voice and echoing gently across their bond.
His Master's eyes change for a moment, too – the mirth is still there, yes, but something deeper as well, something Obi-Wan catches for just a second in cobalt blue eyes before he looks away, back to their charges, who seem not to have caught on to the shift in atmosphere.
His Master then gently ushers the children away, and they leave without much protest, seemingly satisfied with the gift of information Obi-Wan provided.
“You have given them much to think about, Padawan,” his Master says, and again, there is only approval in his voice.
Obi-Wan feels the urge to bow; follows that urge, and simply responds, “Yes, Master.”
Qui-Gon touches his shoulder; he looks up, into his Master's blue eyes, and is frozen in time a moment as, once again, he is willingly pulled into the riptide of his affection for his Master.
Before it can overwhelm him, Obi-Wan breaks away. “Would you join me in meditation, Master?” he asks instead, feeling the need to temper his raw emotion, and gestures gracefully towards the small room that appeared at their bidding for just for such a practice, soft rugs in place on the floor and sticks of vetiver, frankincense, and patchouli gathered in small bundles next to an incense burner.
His Master replies by going into the room and kneeling by the incense. Instead of selecting the vetiver and frankincense as Obi-Wan expected, he places a stick of patchouli in the burner and lights it with a touch of his fingers to the end. A tiny flame appears, and Obi-Wan breathes in the familiar earthy scent. It is his personal choice of meditation aid.
His Master seats himself in graceful lotus. Like a mirror, Obi-Wan settles opposite him, following suit. And together, the room becomes quiet and still, and the Force hums between them like the green echoes of the planet.
~*~
“Harry!”
With a jolt, Harry tried not to choke on his juice as Hermione's enthusiastic whisper sounded right in his ear like a klaxon. Spluttering, he got a hold of his breath while Ron thumped him on the back and Hermione apologized sheepishly. A few other students at the Gryffindor breakfast table gave him concerned looks, until Seamus, a known lifeguard, stated with unworried authority, “He's coughing; that means he's breathing.”
Harry regained himself, and soon after business returned to normal at the table, as the sight of Hermione appearing out of nowhere, waving a newspaper and nearly jigging with enthusiasm, was common enough. Without waiting, she pulled first Ron, then Harry up by the arm. “Come on, come on!”
“Hermione!” Ron protested. “My bacon!” As he was being led away, he snatched up a piece from his plate, staring at the rest mournfully while he, Harry, and Hermione walked towards the hallway doors, some of the other Gryffindors laughing at the spectacle. Harry was, truthfully, still a little hungry as well, but nearly choking was as close as he wanted to come to death that morning; no need to anger an excited Hermione.
“Oh, Ron, there'll be more tomorrow,” Hermione consoled hastily, “but right now I've got something to show you two. Let's go-”
“Alright, alright,” Ron agreed, but gave his food a last longing look as they passed through the doors of the Great Hall.
Hermione took them to an empty classroom, flicking the door firmly shut behind them with her wand and peering closely into the corners of the room as if a hidden eavesdropper might suddenly spring forth. When none did, she nodded in a satisfied manner and spread the newspaper out on a desk, flipping through a couple pages before gesturing to a story in the bottom left corner with a flourish. Curious, Harry leaned down to read.
It didn't take Harry long to discover the cause of Hermione's outburst. “Another UFO was seen!”
Hermione nodded eagerly, pointing to the map. “It flew over a scientific station in the North Pole, then was seen some time later above the Cairngorms,” she said, pointing to the large national park to the west of Hogwarts. “That's where they think it landed. That was three hours ago.”
Harry looked at her in surprise. “That recent?”
She grinned a bit. “The Quibbler is notorious for their speed on these types of events.”
“Says here it might not be a UFO at all,” Ron said doubtfully, pointing to a small section with even smaller text. “Could be a meteorite or something. Or even a Muggle what's-its-name, a heliocaptor-”
“Yes, yes,” Hermione agreed impatiently, flapping a hand. “Helicopter, Ron, and that's most likely what the major newspapers will play it off as, space debris or an aircraft – no one truly believed in the first UFO, why would they believe in a second? But in this instance, I think the Quibbler's right. Think about it. The object's estimated size and velocity is similar to that of Obi-Wan and Master Jinn's ship – it makes a comparison to the 'December UFO,' right here – except that it wasn't spiraling. As in, its descent was orderly, which is how a spaceship might touch down if the occupants were in control, unlike Obi-Wan's crash landing. And the presumed location of the vessel? Right next to Hogwarts, where Obi-Wan and his Master just happen to be staying.”
“And if Obi-Wan and Jinn have managed to make contact with the other Jedi,” Harry added, beginning to catch some of Hermione's enthusiasm, “and it's entirely possible they could have, they've had plenty of time and opportunity and the knowledge of who-knows-what kind of technology – wouldn't it make sense the Jedi would send someone to help them out? They have to get off the planet somehow, and the only way I can think of is to use another ship.”
“Or it could be another blue alien out to attack us all,” Ron pointed out, but the true disagreement had gone out of his voice and he seemed as animated as the other two.
“It could,” Hermione acknowledged, “but I doubt it. How would another alien know just where to land?”
Ron nodded. “So what are we going to do about it?” he asked. “Tell Dumbledore?”
“I think we should go find Obi-Wan and Jinn,” Harry said, already thinking ahead of more or less valid excuses he could use later for skipping class. Some Puking Pastilles ought to do it.... “We can send a message to Dumbledore with Dobby, but I want to find out what's going on. If Obi-Wan and Jinn did make contact with the Jedi, and this spacecraft has those new Jedi in it, they'll know.”
“We can't tell Dumbledore we're skipping class!” Hermione exclaimed, scandalized.
“We won't,” Harry assured, “we'll have Dobby say he noticed and not us, or something. As long as we're under the Cloak and Dumbledore can deny he ever saw us...I think he'll let us slide,” Harry concluded with a sly grin, thinking back to his previous dealings with the Headmaster.
Ron grinned, too. “Let's do it!” The boys looked to the third member of their trio.
Hermione hesitated, no doubt shying away from neglecting her studies. “Well....”
“Come on, Hermione,” Ron urged, “how often do space people come to Earth? This is history! First contact!”
That seemed to convince her; she relented, saying, “Oh, all right, let's go. Quickly, and maybe I can get back in time for Runes....”
Harry and Ron traded a look, but took the assent for what it was worth. “Let's go get my Cloak and tell Dobby,” Harry said, and together they hurried up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.
~*~
It was becoming more and more difficult to hide three people under one Cloak, Harry had to admit. While it had been easy in their first year, now was a different matter – Ron, especially, had shot up like a weed over the years. The Cloak was generously sized, but it could only do so much. This made their trek to the first floor corridor something of a challenge, with much bumping into one another and stepping on toes. When the gargoyle answered in the negative as to the presence of the Jedi, the trio diverted their path towards the Forest.
The trip across the grounds was both easier because there were fewer obstacles to avoid, and harder because of the distance. They left no footprints, as they took care to walk in those areas where the snow was fully melted. It was only when they arrived at the treeline and were safely under its cover that they removed the Cloak.
“Much better,” Ron said with approval, rolling his shoulders and stretching.
They took the same path they'd taken with Hagrid when they first came to introduce the Jedi to their new lodgings in the castle, and soon were approaching the clearing where the Herd had last resided. Near there, a quiet debate ensued as to whether or not they should re-don the Cloak and try and go through the whole Herd unnoticed, or simply ask if Obi-Wan and Jinn were nearby, and hope the centaurs weren't too territorial.
“If we wear the Cloak and they catch us,” Hermione argued heatedly, “they'll be all sorts of angry. It's best we just announce our presence and don't try to hide.”
“But if we see Jinn and Obi-Wan, they'll know we're here!” Ron protested. “Since it's school hours they'd probably send us back to the castle, and we wouldn't get to see the new Jedi.”
Keeping his voice low, Harry added, “Or they might not want us to be in on a meeting between them and the other Jedi in the first place.”
“On the contrary,” a new voice interjected, “I believe it's fitting our hosts from Earth meet the other Jedi ambassadors.”
All three jumped, startled, and turned. Standing some distance away, his hand resting on a tree trunk and his smile welcoming, stood Jinn. He wore his customary brown robe, and he blended into the Forest uncannily. Beside him stood Obi-Wan, looking calm and unsurprised, face less expressive than that of his Master but still pleasant. His thin braid trailed over his shoulder like a vine.
Cringing inwardly, Harry wondered how long they'd been there.
“Oh.” Hermione blushed a bit, obviously embarrassed and worried about being caught. “Sorry, Master Jinn, we didn't mean to intrude-”
“It's alright.” Jinn smiled. “I can understand your curiosity, and you were quite clever to deduce so quickly that other Jedi had landed. May I ask what tipped you off?”
“Of course,” Hermione said with distraction, and flicked her wand over one of the inner pockets of her robe. Out of the small space came the complete Quibbler. She opened it up as she had for Harry and Ron and showed them the article.
Stepping nearer to his Master, Obi-Wan leaned in, his eyes flickering over the words, Jinn's tracking the writing as well. When they were done, they traded a close glance. Jinn looked amused.
“Interesting,” was all he said, though, as he handed Hermione back the paper.
“A long shot,” Obi-Wan commented.
Hermione was, unsurprisingly, curious. “If you don't mind my asking,” she began daringly, “why would they make their landing so obvious? Don't you have something that can hide a ship's presence?”
“Yes,” Jinn replied mildly, “but few ships use them. Cloaking devices block both sensors and the eye from detecting a vessel, but also keep that craft from being able to scan or see its surrounding area. They blind those who wish to see them, but they also blind themselves. Thus, a cloaking device's usefulness is limited. It is also important to note,” Jinn added, “that, usually, Jedi are not in the habit of dropping by planets that have not achieved a certain level of space travel. For those planets that have, we simply announce our presence and request permission to land, so there is no need for secrecy.”
“What about landing on an enemy's planet?” Ron asked. “Wouldn't you want to cloak then?”
Jinn and Obi-Wan met each other's eyes a moment. “The circumstances in which we would knowingly land on an enemy's planet are different,” Jinn finally said. “The Order cultivates peace, not strife. If we did need to somehow get to the surface of such a planet, however, there are other, more efficient ways.”
Before any of the three had a chance to ask just what those ways were, Obi-Wan spoke. “We should leave soon, Master.”
Jinn nodded. “Agreed. You are welcome to come with us,” he said to the wizards and witch, “though it is true that, had this been another matter, entering the Forest on your own without telling anyone your intentions, especially during class hours, may not have been the best decision.”
Feeling the gentle chastisement, the three students nodded, looking at various things in the Forest other than the Jedi.
“What you learn may one day save you,” Obi-Wan added, voice solemn.
Harry rather doubted the ability to brew a skin-cleansing potion would ever save his life, but then, he supposed a Jedi might learn different sorts of things in his classes.
Jinn gestured them over. “Come. We'll resume our journey to meet those who have arrived to aid us.”
Trading glances, Harry, Ron, and Hermione obligingly followed. The air was cool and the shade was cooler as they passed through thickets of pines, before the sky would abruptly reveal itself from behind those trees that were leafless. All around them were the murky colors of early spring; dull gray rocks, muddy brown grass, and remnants of impure white snow. It wasn't long before Harry realized they were walking deeper into the Forest, not out of it. “Where are we going, exactly?” he inquired, stepping over a large tree root.
Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder to answer. “The Jedi are coming from the other side of the Forest. We'll meet them halfway.”
Harry blinked. “Oh.” He'd never been all the way through the Forest, far enough to come out the other side. “So we're heading towards that national park?” he guessed, thinking of the article.
“Yes.”
“How do you know where they are?” Hermione inquired. She, too, had to clamber over a spread of tree roots, so her question was punctuated with uneven pauses as she concentrated on grasping some root or another.
“We can feel their presence in the Force.” Obi-Wan, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by the terrain.
“That's got to be right handy,” Ron commented, clearing the last of the roots himself. Wiping off his hands on his robe, he asked, “Can you feel us in the Force, too?”
Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes.”
“That's how you knew we were coming, isn't it,” Hermione stated keenly, as she, her friends, and the Jedi resumed traversing the Forest on a flatter span of land. “Though I doubt we feel quite the same to you as other Jedi.”
Obi-Wan simply gave a small smile, and looked ahead, continuing to walk at his Master's side.
Harry didn't know how much time had passed before Jinn and Obi-Wan paused, as one. Harry, Ron, and Hermione came to stand next to them.
“Are they here?” Ron asked eagerly, scanning the local flora.
Jinn looked off into the distance. “Almost.”
And, soon enough, in the shade of the pines, Harry could see movement; two people, it seemed, both brown-robed and picking nimbly through the forest. As they neared, Harry saw they were women; the first was bronze-skinned and wore what looked like some kind of brown headdress with white fronds coming down on either side of her face. The other was younger, pretty, and looked remarkably human – that is to say, if it weren't for her clothes, she could have been any passerby in the street. Her hair was blonde and shoulder-length, and she walked to the left and slightly behind the older Jedi.
Harry stole a glance at 'their' Jedi. They stood a few feet apart from him and his friends, and both seemed as serene as ever, standing in habitual poses with their arms loosely held across their torsos. Jinn was smiling a bit, and Obi-Wan's face was neutral.
The two new Jedi took a few more paces before halting. Silently, both women bowed; the action was mirrored by Obi-Wan and Jinn.
“Greetings, Adi, Padawan Tachi.” Jinn broke the silence. “It's good to see familiar faces.”
The woman smiled, too. “I can imagine. Hello, Qui-Gon, Padawan Kenobi.”
Both Obi-Wan and the younger woman murmured greetings as well.
Then the woman turned to him, and suddenly Harry found himself on the other end of a smile as kind as it was beautiful. Unconsciously, he stood straighter. He hoped he didn't have any twigs sticking out of his hair. “And your acquaintances?” she asked, her voice rich and smooth.
“Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger,” Jinn said, gesturing to each of them. Harry wasn't in the custom of bowing to people he met, and they were too far away to shake hands, so he just kind of waved a bit, trying not to look too awkward. Ron seemed to feel the same way, but Hermione handled the introduction more gracefully than either of them.
“Hello,” she said, and actually gave a pretty good approximation of a bow. “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“The feeling is mutual.” The woman's voice was melodious. “I am Jedi Master Adi Gallia, and this is my Padawan, Siri Tachi. I offer greetings from the Jedi Order, and I must compliment you on your planet; it is as richly diverse in its lifeforms as it is beautiful.”
With her words, Harry was struck anew that this was no ordinary introduction; though they might look human enough, these people were, more or less, alien. It was a distinctly surreal fact for Harry to be aware of. He was talking with more people from space. They were really real, and, of all things, they were complimenting Earth, as Mrs. Weasley might tell another witch she had a well-kept house.
Strange.
Hermione looked a bit surprised. “Oh, um, thank you,” she replied with some haste, then added humbly, “I suppose you've been to many planets more wondrous than ours.”
Gallia elegantly raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “On the contrary, your planet is unique among those I have visited. Yours is a fortunate species.” Luckily – or perhaps it wasn't luck at all, perhaps it was the Jedi Master's intuitive graciousness – Gallia spared Hermione with having to come up with a reply, turning back to Jinn.
Quietly, Hermione breathed a sigh. Harry tapped her on the shoulder; when she looked at him, he offered, “Not bad.”
She grinned. “It's so exciting,” she whispered back breathlessly, before turning her attention to the Jedi.
“Do you have any pressing needs?” Gallia was asking. “Siri and I are here to assist in any way possible. What of the disease that afflicted the centaurs?”
“Actually, Adi,” Jinn responded mildly, “you have come at something of a lull. The centaurs are healed, and there is no present danger.”
Obviously, Harry surmised, Gallia and Siri must have, at some point, been in communication with either Obi-Wan and Jinn themselves or someone the male Jedi pair had talked to. How else would they know about the telepathic disease, without knowing that it had been cured?
Gallia kept her brow raised. “And non-present danger?”
“Ah.” Jinn smiled. “There is that, yes, which bears some discussion.”
Gallia nodded seriously.
The Jedi taking the lead, they set off for the clearing near the Herd that Obi-Wan and Jinn had been using before coming to the castle. Talking energetically amongst themselves, Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed. After a moment, however, Obi-Wan dropped back to walk beside the wizards and witch.
“There will be many introductions,” he explained, “both with the Herd and at the castle. Should you wish to return to your classes, I will make your excuses.”
Siri had fallen behind as well, and she caught what Obi-Wan said. “What he really means,” she added conspiratorially, “is that you're about to be bored to death. If you want to escape, better run now.”
Harry looked from one Padawan to the other. Instead of answering their request, he blurted, “Do you two know one another?”
Siri just smiled friendlily, not seeming affronted in the least. “Obi-Wan and I had some classes together at the Temple.” Obi-Wan, for his part, calmly watched.
“What kinds of classes?” Hermione asked with interest, and Ron and Harry traded a look. Trust Hermione to latch onto schoolwork even when it was another world's students.
Siri seemed happy enough to answer, though, and soon she and Hermione took over the conversation, chatting easily about this class and that. Obi-Wan walked with them, obviously listening but gaze forward. He didn't interject anything, however, and Harry was quietly, effectively, being struck by how different the two Padawans seemed, even during the short time since he'd met the female Padawan. They learned more from the expressive Siri in that first fifteen minutes than they had from Obi-Wan in weeks.
Despite himself, Harry raptly listened to all that Siri had to say, and found himself back at the Herd before he knew it. Too late he remembered Obi-Wan's offer to sneak them out, and so he did, indeed, stand through another round of introductions.
Fortunately it didn't last too long, as Jinn made it clear they were only passing through and would not be bringing more people to stay with the Herd. Several times Jinn emphasized, loudly, that fact; Gallia echoed his statement. Harry wondered why it was so important.
“It's an intrusion,” Obi-Wan murmured quietly, and Harry jumped a bit; he'd almost forgotten the Jedi was there, so quiet had he been.
“How did you know my question?” Harry asked. His brows furrowed a bit. “Can you read minds?”
“I cannot.”
“You just had 'question' written all over your face,” Siri added with a grin.
Obi-Wan smiled that small, polite smile, both towards the trio of wizards and her.
“So why are we even here if it's an intrusion?” Hermione speculated in a whisper as the introductions concluded, and the Jedi, wizards, and a pair of important-looking centaurs resumed walking through the clearing that housed the Herd, skirting the main gathering and sticking to the edges. It seemed less populated than Harry remembered, and he wondered where all the other centaurs had gone.
Up front, Jinn and Gallia talked with the centaurs. Siri mock-glanced around them. “Don't tell, but we kind of parked our ship in the forest next door. We'll need it to get off the planet, so we have to ensure that, you know, it's intact. For that, we like to get the permission of the locals so they don't interfere. And it's just good manners to introduce ourselves,” she added.
Hermione's face lit up. “You mean your ship's in the Cairngorms? Can we see?”
Siri laughed a bit, not seeming perturbed by the looks she was given from those centaurs who were, in fact, resting in the clearing, and Harry was again struck by the contrast between her and Obi-Wan. Next to her, Obi-Wan seemed...almost expressionless, like a living statue. He wasn't without feeling, Harry knew – all he had to remember was the heartrending scream when the Draethos had slit Jinn's throat. Still, the dissimilarities in mannerisms confused him. Which was truly how a Padawan was supposed to be?
“No, sorry,” Siri was explaining to a disappointed Hermione. “It's in a place you can't get to, believe me. It was a pain to get it there, too,” she added in afterthought. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to sneak a ship into a forest? Spacecraft were not designed to fit through trees.”
Jinn, Gallia, and the centaur pair, all slightly ahead, entered the offshoot clearing the Jedi had stayed in for the duration of their time in the Herd. Harry followed, already having seen the location and shrugged it off as mostly unremarkable, but was surprised when he heard Siri ask, “That's where you've been sleeping?”
Harry looked her way; she was staring at the small shelter the Jedi had constructed – 'cozy' would be the most polite way to describe the cramped space. The female Padawan appeared startled, and there was something unreadable in her gaze when she turned it to Obi-Wan, searching his face as if for explanation.
But, as Harry knew from experience, Obi-Wan rarely elaborated if he didn't have or want to. “Yes,” was all he said. He looked as calm as ever, but there was a note of...something, that Harry couldn't pin down in his voice.
Harry looked at him, and back at Siri.
Siri was frowning slightly. “Obi-Wan....” Then she glanced at Harry and his friends, and her expression eased.
“Headmaster Dumbledore will most likely offer you lodgings at the castle too, of course,” Hermione offered, referring to Siri and her Master, “so you won't have to sleep in the Forest.” But she was watching both Padawans carefully. Apparently she'd picked up on the weirdness going on between them, and was trying to fish out the source of Siri's disturbance.
“And my Master and I will be most happy to accept whatever housing is offered, should an offer be made,” Siri answered diplomatically, and even gave a slight bow. Then her demeanor shifted. “Really, we're able to find our own place to stay if needed; it's not a big deal.”
Hermione nodded. “Still, I'm sure Dumbledore will offer.”
Harry, meanwhile, had noticed Jinn and Gallia bidding the centaurs goodbye and approaching, and he wasn't the only one; Obi-Wan quietly left the conversation, watching his Master walk towards them, meeting him halfway, and taking a place on his left.
Siri rolled her eyes. “So proper,” she said, smiling at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “I knew he was going to make me look bad.” She shrugged, then followed Obi-Wan's initiative and went to stand beside her Master, too.
Jinn spoke. “We intend to meet the Headmaster at the castle,” he informed them, “and, as you three seem to be missing from your classes-” Harry caught the corner of Siri's lip lifting mischievously, “-you may want to divert from our path as we enter the school and return to your studies.”
“I believe this would be wise,” Gallia agreed, and gave them a very McGonagall-esque look.
It had the desired effect. “Yes, ma'am,” Ron answered promptly.
They made their way together towards the edge of the Forest; there, Harry, Ron, and Hermione ducked under the Invisibility Cloak, asking for and receiving confirmation that they could not be seen before they crossed the line that separated Forest from field.
At the doors to the castle, the trio entered when the Jedi did, so that no one would see the doors opening by themselves. They whispered their goodbyes, which were returned with courtesy, and went towards Gryffindor Tower to collect their things for afternoon classes.
They waited until they were out of earshot before they spoke. “I wonder if the Jedi will leave soon,” Hermione said, looking a bit crestfallen at the thought. “With a ship, they could go whenever they wanted. And I was hoping to find out more about them....”
“I bet they stick around. They said there was still – how'd they put it? – 'non-present' danger here,” Harry pointed out.
Hermione was contemplative. “Yes, but – I wonder what?”
Neither Ron nor Harry had an answer for that.
~*~
After they bid their fellow Jedi goodnight at their rooms in the castle, he walks with his Master to their own chambers. It's evening, and children in the hallways are scarce. Those they do pass watch the Jedi with wide eyes, and Obi-Wan in particular receives looks both wary and awed. Such a thing doesn't bother him; the reaction is common enough, and he has had years to adjust to it.
His Master strokes the gargoyle as it steps aside to let them in. As with most sentient creatures, Qui-Gon has taken a liking to it, and the hawk seems to reciprocate the sentiment. With sleight of hand a pickpocket would envy, Obi-Wan sees his Master slip the bird a sizable stone.
“We cannot take it with us,” Obi-Wan murmurs, just in case.
His Master looks over his shoulder, and there's a flash of white teeth as he grins. “Yes, Padawan.” His voice is playful and dutiful at once.
Obi-Wan smiles.
Inside, Obi-Wan slips off his robe, going to his room to lay it neatly on his bed, and takes a moment to relax the stiffness in his shoulders. Being among other Jedi has left him feeling stifled and mildly irritated, and he isn't sure why. In response to his feelings, he takes off his boots, for good measure, and the heavier, outer layer of his tunics, as if freedom from the constraint of clothing can free his mind as well. Barefoot now, he pads out of the bedroom.
When he returns to the living room, his Master raises an eyebrow, and there's something suspiciously like good humor in his eyes, but he doesn't comment, for which Obi-Wan is glad. Wordlessly, Obi-Wan goes to the kitchen, rummaging about in the refrigerator. He could have the elves of the castle prepare their meals, of course; but he will not relinquish this tradition, and, gently but firmly, he insisted that the elves only bring him raw ingredients. They listened, but they thought it very strange.
Dinner is quiet. As he eats, Obi-Wan uses the rote familiarity of the action to soothe himself, being mindful of each bite he takes, feeling the texture of the food on his tongue. He weighs the fork in his hand. He breathes deeply. Gradually, his dual feelings of constriction and ire roll through him like waves of the ocean, and with each wave the sea calms a little more, receding. His Master surely feels his slow, steady release of emotion, the process so unhurried that there is almost no physical manifestation; just a ripple in his water glass.
By the time dinner is finished, so, too, is Obi-Wan. Much calmer, he dons his tunic, boots, and robe again. Upon seeing him redressed, his Master smiles. Obi-Wan walks to the door, then turns to see his Master watching him.
“I have energy, and I seek an outlet,” he explains. “I'll practice some lightsabre katas until I am tired.”
Qui-Gon nods. “Of course.”
About to leave, Obi-Wan pauses with his hand on the doorknob. Shifts so he can see his Master again, and asks, “Would you like to come with me?”
And Qui-Gon grins, and touches his hand to his sabre, resting at his side. “I thought you'd never ask.”
~*~
Several days later, the evening sun elongates his shadow and those of the trees scattered across the mostly grassy field. He keeps his back to the star, adjusting his weight and bringing his arms up to hold his lightsabre in a raised position, hands near his chin. He steps forward, lifting his hands above the center of his head, striking downward with sudden speed, lightsabre humming, stopping with his arms stretched parallel to the ground and his sabre at an angle. Lowering his hands and shifting back slightly, then forward again, he lunges, arms at an angle and sabre parallel to the ground. Bringing his back foot forward, he maintains the position long enough for several breaths before stepping backwards, straightening his sabre again so it faces the ground.
He assumes the opponent's position then, his arms held low and at his side, his lightsabre behind him, humming softly. Advancing, he brings his sabre above his head and strikes downward, arms once more parallel to the ground, sabre at an angle. He holds this position, then twists and raises his arms so his sabre is held perpendicular to his body, stepping to the side to avoid an imaginary thrust and bringing his sabre above his head, striking downward in a mimic of his first attack. Remaining in the pose for several moments, he steps forward with one foot and realigns himself, then lowers his sabre and paces backwards.
This is one of many basic exercises he practices with regularity, whether he's away on missions or spending those infrequent few days on Coruscant. Sometimes he is alone; sometimes his Master is on the other end of a sabre, facing him with that familiar mix of serenity and focused intensity. Obi-Wan strives to emulate Qui-Gon in that regard, immersing himself in the movements until his mind is calm and he exists only in sensation and reaction.
It does not, however, mean he loses awareness of his surroundings; rather, his world is expanded, as he takes in his environs with unworried observation. And it is this peripheral alertness that lets him feel the approach of Gallia's Padawan, first through the Force, then with his sight and hearing. Awaiting her, he continues on to another kata. She watches him as she advances.
When she arrives, she seamlessly integrates herself into the kata as the opponent, so that Obi-Wan's next strike, though it follows the form, shies away from actually striking her. She does not flinch; knowing the basic katas as well as he, she follows with the corresponding withdrawal and counterattack, and is dodged. In this manner they continue for some time.
As the sun lowers, the glow of their sabres shines brighter in the dark, and the blue glow of her blade casts color across her form, as he knows it does his, as well. In a flash, he sees Qui-Gon instead, where she is, with the green of his blade, so appropriate for one in tune with the Living Force, casting reflections onto the deep blue of his eyes, as they smile, perhaps, in satisfaction at the end of their practice. He blinks; the image clears. Finishing the final kata, they bow to one another and step back, disengaging their blades. The humming halts.
She regards him. “Where is your Master?” she asks. Her voice seems discordant, for a moment, so immersed in the quiet has he become. Allowing the disruption as he re-acclimates himself to a speaking world, his breathing remains slow and even.
“In the Forest,” he replies. They speak in Basic, and the syllables feel comfortable and familiar. “Do you seek him?”
She tilts her head. “No, not really.” She pauses. Her voice becomes slightly hesitant, and he has the impression she chooses her words carefully. “I rarely see you without him.” She is oddly intent.
He inclines his head marginally. He is unsure of the direction in which she chooses to take this conversation, but the first hint of defensiveness creeps into his feelings.
“I see you're no closer to your Knighting than I am.” She touches the slim braid hidden in her unbound hair. “Has Master Jinn given you any indication?”
Obi-Wan considers. “None outright, but he will tell me when he feels the need.”
She watches him. “Yes, I suppose he will.” Another pause. “Do you ever ask?”
“No.”
She frowns. “Why not?”
Now Obi-Wan frowns, too. “He will tell me,” he repeats, “when he feels the need. Whether or not I ask will not hasten the timing of his decision.”
“It might,” she presses. “How do you know?”
Feeling slightly provoked without really knowing why, he replies, “Because I know my Master.” It is as simple as that, and always has been.
This seems to confirm something for Gallia's Padawan; her expression becomes studiously neutral. Again, Obi-Wan feels a faint prickling of annoyance. Gentling his thoughts, he releases his vexation to the Force as best he can.
“Obi-Wan.”
He meets her eyes. “Yes?”
She is somber. “You always seemed a competent Jedi. Do not lose sight of that.” Her voice becomes a bit hard. “For the sake of the Jedi Order, I would have you remember this: there are certain things you cannot do or be, not and remain Jedi, and you would do well to remember them.”
Ah. Somehow, she must know: emotion, yet peace.
Has he changed so much?
Taking a moment to unlock the knot growing in his chest, he remains calm. “I am in full acceptance of my capabilities.” He does not linger too long on the strangeness of defending his new way of being; he had not expected opposition, so soon.
She sighs, and abruptly loses some of her formality. “I'm trying to look out for you. My intentions are good. Can't you see that?”
“I believe that you believe your intentions are well-meaning, yes. But I grow more certain of my path the longer I tread it, and from it I shall not be moved.” Saying this, he feels its rightness; feels it take root in his heart, and wonders if this is how Qui-Gon feels, facing down his peers.
Her expression speaks of disappointment, and a hint of sadness and pity. “Then no one can help you.” With a last glance at him over her shoulder, she turns, shaking her head and striding off across the field, back towards the castle.
Obi-Wan watches her leave. Will she go to Master Gallia? Will Master Gallia go to the Council? And if they do, what will that mean for him and his Master, who also lives his life by the old Code?
He does not know. Exhaling and inhaling several times with purposeful mindfulness, he sets off for his destination. He does not return to the castle. Somewhere in the Forest, he knows, is his Master; and right now, with his Master is where he wishes to be.
The sun sets over the horizon.
~*~
Days passed, and soon it had been a week since the arrival of the two other Jedi. Harry saw them every once in a while, sometimes with Jinn and Obi-Wan, sometimes not. While Gallia was kind to all, her beauty was intimidating; Siri, however, was openly friendly, and soon had people waving to her in the halls when she walked by. He also saw, more and more often, Jinn and Obi-Wan out on the grounds, their lightsabres glowing from afar like muted stars in the early mornings and evenings.
One night, no different than any other, Harry couldn't sleep. So he climbed out of bed, pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk – that thing was earning its keep, lately – and, with careful glances and quiet footsteps, set to roaming about the castle.
He passed Nearly Headless Nick conversing with a portrait of a dignified Victorian lady; the ghost glanced in his direction and gave him a large wink. Beneath his Cloak, Harry grinned, waved, and continued on. He went to the portrait guarding the kitchens, tickled the pear and got a snack from the house elves, and upon exiting had a close call with Snape, where the man stopped in the corridor and sniffed, and Harry tried his best to disperse the scent of the scones he carried while simultaneously creeping away. But Snape only looked at the kitchen portrait and sneered before walking away, and Harry let out a breath, glad that Snape seemed to assume the smell came from the kitchens themselves.
He went to the owlery and petted Hedwig a bit, smiling when she nibbled his fingers affectionately. When she flapped away from his side, it was to sit on a perch next to a rather imposing-looking black owl, who shifted closer to her. Harry smiled. It seemed Hedwig had found somebody special, too.
His final destination for the night before returning to try and sleep would be the astronomy tower, he decided. Navigating the corridors with an ease his first-year self would never have dreamed to possess, Harry made his way up the spiral staircases. When he reached the hatch that led to the outside, however, he found it already open. Curious as to who might be awake and on the tower at such an hour – most likely it was simply Professor Sinistra herself, but still – Harry quietly made his onto the tower.
At the top, however, was not who he expected.
As they seemed prone to do, the Jedi pair popped up where he least expected them; tonight Jinn and Obi-Wan stood near the parapet, robed, with their hands in their sleeves and their backs to Harry. Dark as the night was, so were the stars bright, and the sky was clear. Neither spoke, though both had their heads tilted towards the sky.
Stargazing, Harry surmised. Maybe they were homesick. Could they see their planet from Earth?
Trusting in his Cloak to keep him unnoticed, Harry remained a few moments more to see if they would do or discuss anything interesting. He didn't suspect them, he was just...curious, about the kinds of things they might do when they thought no one was around. When they stayed still as statues, however, Harry shrugged to himself and prepared to climb back down. He could reveal himself, he supposed, but the moment felt private enough as it was and already he was feeling a bit guilty about staying as long as he had. He put a foot down a rung on the ladder-
“I see your mother with you often,” Jinn said quietly.
Harry stopped, ears pricked, and waited to see if the Jedi would say anything else to his apprentice. But the silence stretched on, and Obi-Wan didn't give any indication he'd heard his Master speak.
“She's there more than you know,” Jinn continued, and still, Obi-Wan didn't respond. Harry looked around, uncertain. Who was Jinn talking to?
“If you'd like to speak to her, Harry, we can help you.”
Now Harry halted dead in his tracks. Knowing he'd been caught, he slowly gathered the Cloak from his shoulders and looped it around his arm, climbing fully onto the rooftop. He swallowed, registering just what had been said. “What do you mean?”
“She's very proud of you.” Jinn's voice was even and soft as velvet. His eyes were fixed on the stars; his face, in profile, gentle and tranquil. Neither he nor his Padawan ever once looked at Harry.
Vaguely unnerved, Harry narrowed his eyes, swallowing again and trying to appear more confident than he felt. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he said accusingly, but his voice shook.
“She loves you very much,” the Jedi said quietly.
“What are you-”
“She's here now.” Harry shivered, but not from fear. Something in the Jedi's voice wasn't – wasn't normal, not like a normal person's.... “Can you feel her?”
“I-” he swallowed once more, suddenly not so sure that everything Jinn was saying wasn't, in fact, real, and true, and happening right now. His mother.... “Here? She's – here?”
“Yes.” A whisper, barely tickling his senses, as if Jinn weren't really there, except as an ethereal guiding voice.... “Let your thoughts go, Harry. Open your mind.” Quiet, insistent urgings. A presence inside his mind, foreign yet nonthreatening, leading him forward. “Trust your feelings.” The night seemed to darken further around him, but for the glowing blue light that he felt more than saw, the light that was –
“It's her love, Harry, for you.”
Harry gasped. Because suddenly he knew and he felt her, there, his mother, as if her arms were around his shoulders, warm and loving and just like he'd always hoped.
“Harry....”
He choked on a sob, because that sounded like-
“Mum?”
“Harry, dear....” He could hear her murmuring more, sweet things, loving things, but it was a sound just beyond the range of his hearing. His mother, speaking to him, holding him, and he didn't know when or where he was anymore, but it was the most wonderful place in the world.
~*~
Obi-Wan extricates himself from the boy's mind, feeling his Master do the same with that of the boy's mother. Together they leave the tower, no longer intruders on as close a family reunion as the boy will ever get, while living.
The walk back to their chambers is quiet.
Love....
Love is too raw; he avoids his Master the rest of the night. But the spirit comes to him anyway, deep in the middle of the night, and the light of the moon colors her shifting blue glow with white.
“Thank you and your Master,” she whispers, grasping his hand in both of hers the only way she could, through feelings and thoughts and all things intangible but through the Force.
“Thank you.”
~*~
In the morning, Obi-Wan wakes before dawn, as is his nature. He rises, stretching, and dresses, before leaving his room and entering the chamber they've reserved just for meditation. His Master, no doubt, is still asleep, and does not rise during the entirety of Obi-Wan's grounding exercises. It is not until Obi-Wan has gone to the kitchen and made a simple breakfast of tea and seasoned bread that his Master exits his room, joining Obi-Wan in the kitchen.
Obi-Wan half-bows in greeting. “Master.”
His Master smiles, a hint of sleep lingering in his eyes. “Padawan.” Then he yawns, and Obi-Wan turns to hide his smile.
“I saw that.”
Innocently, Obi-Wan turns back around, face now under control. “Saw what, Master?”
Qui-Gon grumbles something unintelligible. Obi-Wan bites his cheek to keep from smiling, and indicates the table, where he's set two places, inviting his Master to breakfast. He then starts to fetch the tea, but a hand on his arm stops him.
“Obi-Wan.”
He turns. “Master?”
Qui-Gon meets his eyes. There is something in them that Obi-Wan cannot fathom; but it is something deep and powerful, and it draws him, so that, without thinking, he takes a step closer.
His Master doesn't move away. “Come with me, Padawan,” is all he says, before turning calmly and walking, pace measured, to their meditation chamber. Without protest, Obi-Wan follows. The rugs feel soft under his bare feet, and his tunics shift soundlessly as he follows his Master to the floor in lotus. Qui-Gon places the incense burner between them and selects a stick – patchouli, once more. Obi-Wan allows his curiosity to show, but his Master only smiles, a crinkling of the eyes, and places his fingertips on the edge of the stick. His eyes on Obi-Wan, he lights the incense with a touch of the Force to cause friction.
Obi-Wan feels a warm, curling heat suffusing his belly, not unlike the twisting smoke that rises delicately from the incense and twines about the air between them.
For a long while, nothing is said. His Master's eyes are open but unfocused, looking at nothing in particular, and Obi-Wan waits without hurry, tracing with his gaze the lines of a few plants scattered in the chamber, tracking their outlines as an artist might. When he finishes with this exercise and still his Master has not spoken, he finds himself drawn to study the man. His Master's hair is partially pulled back in a horsetail, and his cream-colored outer tunics catch the early morning sun and make the fabric glow. His Master's posture is straight and relaxed, his breathing slow and deep.
When Qui-Gon does speak, his voice is contemplative and the slightest bit hesitant. “I have learned something from the spirit of the boy's mother.”
At this, Obi-Wan almost stops breathing, though he tries not to appear overly on guard. “...Yes?” If the spirit talked to Qui-Gon of the same things about which she talked to her son.... Things like love....
“I wondered when I first saw her how she was able to live beyond death as a spirit of the Force. And so I asked her; and she told me.” More hesitation. “Obi-Wan. Her love granted her a spirit form to watch over her son. 'Death, yet the Force.'” Another pause, then:
“I may be able to adapt her technique so that, even if I should die, I will never leave you.”
Then he waits. As if Obi-Wan knows how to respond to that. But his throat is suddenly dry and tight, and he swallows and can't speak past the staggering implications.
“Obi-Wan-”
“But Jedi cannot love,” he says, and he tries to be firm but his voice comes out a whisper.
“That is what the Code teaches us....” He feels his Master's eyes on him.
“And the Code is what we follow,” Obi-Wan responds, but his voice is shaky.
“It is not the Code I follow,” Qui-Gon responds amicably, but the reminder is a sharp jolt to Obi-Wan's senses: emotion, yet peace. “And lately, I had believed it was not the Code you follow, either. You know as well as I its original form.” And he watches him with intense blue eyes. Obi-Wan feels his gaze like moonlight on an ocean tide; pulling, pulling, pulling.
His Master stands. He comes over to Obi-Wan, close. Obi-Wan feels a shiver creep up his back, but he can't step away, held captive as he is by his Master's allure.
“What do you feel, Obi-Wan?”
It is out of respect for his Master and their long, close relationship that Obi-Wan answers honestly. “...Fear.”
“And what are you afraid of?”
“...You.”
His Master draws back slightly. “Me?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Why, Obi-Wan?” He sounds pained. His eyes search Obi-Wan's for understanding.
He cannot bear to see his Master think he's done wrong; it is this that spurs him to answer with what he has kept hidden for so long. “I am afraid,” he eventually answers quietly, “to lose you.” Hesitantly, he bares a corner of his greatest fear; then looks at his Master to gauge his reaction.
His Master's expression is one of relief. “I thought-” he shakes his head, and visibly regains his calm. “You know I will die one day, Obi-Wan.”
He swallows. “I know.”
“Then why do you fear it?”
“I don't.” Obi-Wan shakes his head. “I fear...losing you, before your time.”
The room is quiet and still. He can see dust motes lit by the light from the windows – real windows, not artificially created with magic. He can smell, if he concentrates, the scent of warmed bread emanating from the kitchen; overpowering that, however, is the smell of the incense, earthy, familiar, and primal. The smoke curves and curls, artfully.
“You know the importance of staying mindful of the moment, my Padawan,” Qui-Gon eventually says.
Obi-Wan frowns slightly at the familiar admonition. “Master. This is different.”
“Oh?” His Master lets that one syllable carry a wealth of meaning.
And finally – now that he has bared one aspect of his fear, now Obi-Wan feels the time is right to tell his Master what has haunted him for so long, ever since the battle with the Sith. A sense of rightness settles in his being, and without worry he says, “The Unifying Force, Master. It has given me a possible future in which the Sith kills you.”
He watches his Master digest that; knows that his Master must understand the implications of it being a vision from the Unifying Force, and not simply a fear.
“If the Force wills it to be so, it will be so-”
“I will not let it,” Obi-Wan interrupts heatedly and with the distinct sensation that he's speaking with someone else's voice. He surprises himself with his own vehemence; Qui-Gon looks startled, too.
“Padawan, you cannot change the will of the Force-”
“I do not seek to change its will,” he cuts Qui-Gon off again, a hint of harshness in his voice. “I seek to divert it down a different course. There are many futures, Master; what I see, may not come to pass. I will do my best to make it so.”
Qui-Gon watches him, that familiar careful look on his face. “Why does this bother you so, Obi-Wan?”
Obi-Wan is nonplussed. “You are my Master. Why would I not mourn your passing?”
But even before he's finished, Qui-Gon's shaking his head. “No, it is more than that. I worry for you, Obi-Wan. What is it that disturbs you so about my possible death?”
Obi-Wan feels a quick little thrill. This conversation is approaching dangerous ground, his body warns him, as his heart rate increases and his shoulders tense. Dangerous ground, indeed; how is Obi-Wan to explain why Qui-Gon's death would distress him so, without admitting the depth of his affection? It is one thing to meditate with...love as his guide; quite another to admit that...love in the light of day. To express it, fully, and without restraint.
But to keep it inside...Obi-Wan feels this love could consume him whole if it does not achieve expression, so strongly does it take root in his heart.
But he makes one last, desperate attempt to prolong their conversation, so ingrained has it become to hide that which moves him. “...You know why, Master,” he suggests, hoping that his Master comes up with his own explanation, one that Obi-Wan can then build upon.
But Qui-Gon isn't biting. “Do I?” his Master whispers. He reaches through the incense smoke, slowly. A hand at the nape of his neck; Obi-Wan shudders, all over, involuntarily. He feels his Master's surprise along their bond.
And feels incredulity, himself. “Do you truly not know, Master? I do not know how you could not.”
“...Nevertheless, I do not know,” his Master says quietly, “and it is up to you whether or not you shall illuminate me.”
Then, silence.
Should he tell him? Should he let out this secret he's kept long-hidden and buried, locked tightly away from his own conscious acknowledgment for years?
Emotion, yet peace. Passion, yet serenity.
“If I tell you,” he begins in a whisper, “Master. If I tell you,” he swallows, “do not think poorly of me.” Again, he speaks as if he's someone else; he can't quite believe he's saying the things he plans to say. A sense of unreality permeates his thoughts. Is he really doing this?
“Of course not, Obi-Wan.” Softly.
Obi-Wan swallows, caught in the thrall of emotion and the thrill of this time, this time he's not going to hide that emotion. He could use words; could, but as Jedi and this man's Padawan, there is a deeper, more powerful way he can express what he feels. Their bond. This time he's going to let his Master feel the full, unapologetic truth of his love, and he knows of no better way than to open himself, fully, along their bond – shift aside his shields and let his most personal self be known.
And so he does.
And when he does, when he opens his mind absolutely to his Master, Qui-Gon sucks in a breath, and his voice becomes audibly shaky. “Obi-Wan....”
“Master.” Obi-Wan stops, changes his mind. Looks Qui-Gon right in the eye. If he's going to do this, he's going to do it all the way, without apology.
“Qui-Gon,” he says instead. Reaches to take Qui-Gon's free hand, resting on his thigh, in his palms. Clasps it gently.
“I...love you.”
An intake of breath, beautifully shaken.
“I love you,” Obi-Wan repeats, suddenly overwhelmed himself. “I love you, Master, and that is why I do not wish to lose you. I love you more than I can say. I love you-”
“Enough,” his Master says, and his voice is still unsteady. Suddenly emboldened by Qui-Gon's lack of composure, Obi-Wan slowly raises the hand he holds, slow enough to give his Master time to withdraw, should he wish it – slowly holds that hand close.
He looks into his Master's eyes, brings Qui-Gon's hand to his mouth, and kisses the back of his hand.
Qui-Gon inhales swiftly, and his hand trembles; but he doesn't pull away.
So Obi-Wan slowly, sensually, turns Qui-Gon's hand over, one hand sliding some of the fabric of his sleeve down. He looks at his Master from beneath lowered lashes. Leans forward, and presses two soft kisses to Qui-Gon's wrist.
He knows there is no going back, not after this. Strangely, he is not afraid.
The hand leaves his neck, and comes to stroke the side of his cheek. “Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan....” his Master smiles, a breathtaking sight. Obi-Wan looks into the depthless blue of his Master's eyes, changeable and strong as the ocean, and begins to hope.
“Obi-Wan...” then his Master laughs, tremulously. “I....” He doesn't say anything else; perhaps he can't. Then he lets Obi-Wan feel a surge of his own emotion, like releasing a dam.
Obi-Wan can't breathe. “Qui-Gon....” He feels a thousand emotions at once, and his normally extensive vocabulary fails him; swept adrift on the currents of Qui-Gon's love, Obi-Wan is wordless with joy.
“Yes, Padawan.” His Master laughs, then leans his forehead in close, leans down and touches it to Obi-Wan's. Their breath mingles when he says, “Yes. I love you, too. Obi-Wan, I love you so-”
This time it's Obi-Wan who closes his Master's sentence; he tilts his chin upward and meets his Master's lips with his own. The kiss is perhaps the most wonderful thing he's ever felt; awash in relief, joy, and love, he surrenders himself to the moment and kisses his Master with every bit of his being, his mind open to his Master's, meeting it halfway, their thoughts brushing against one another like butterfly kisses, their love endless as the sea.
It's intoxicating; Obi-Wan doesn't want to stop kissing this beautiful, wonderful man in front of him, as love and wonder suffuse his being. Eventually, their lips separate, but their minds do not. Staggered by the entirety of Qui-Gon's emotion, Obi-Wan wonders fleetingly if his Master feels the same. He feels he has so much of himself to give, enough to fill up every nook and cranny of his Master's being, if Qui-Gon allows it.
“I love you,” Obi-Wan whispers, and at the profession his Master seizes upon his lips once again, fiercely.
When his Master pulls back, Obi-Wan laughs, shaky in his joy. “Master. If every time I say I love you-”
Once again, swift as a hawk his Master kisses him. Obi-Wan laughs into Qui-Gon's kiss, giddy.
His Master smiles; Obi-Wan feels the curve of Qui-Gon's lips against his own. He reaches his hands up to twine in his Master's hair, caressing, and pulling him closer. His Master's hands squeeze spasmodically; at some point, they seem to have gripped each other tightly, and Obi-Wan can't for the life of him remember when or how they became so intertwined.
“Obi-Wan....” but Qui-Gon doesn't say anything else, just looks at him, with the kind of raw, intense gaze that makes Obi-Wan shiver in sweet anticipation, down to his bones.
“Qui-Gon,” he breathes. Their minds are lovingly enmeshed in one another, so natural and wonderful a feeling that Obi-Wan can't understand why they haven't done it before. And he realizes that from this moment onward, nothing will ever be the same again, between them.
And he welcomes the change.
“I love you,” he whispers.
And Qui-Gon smiles, then grins, roguishly, and kisses him again.
To be continued...