Horizon.

[quigonejinn]

As he aged, Qui-Gon reconciled himself to the idea of retiring to Corsucant: he was not comfortable on the planet. He had never been, but Jedi who were unfit for fieldwork did not have very many options. They might request permanent diplomatic assignment to another planet, or they might enter one of the research communities on remote planets. Or they could live out their days on Corsucant.

The years passed. Qui-Gon fought his dislike of Corsucant whenever he was stationed there, waiting for assignment, and he reminded himself that he ought to live in the moment. When Obi-Wan was nineteen and feeling his strength as a senior Padawan, he teased Qui-Gon about it.

"Live in the moment, master. We will all grow old; you are merely further in the process of continuous living."

Qui-Gon would not dignify that with a response.

...

"Are you sure, master?"

"Quite sure, Obi-Wan."

"Are you sure, master?"

...

The relationship, as far as Qui-Gon could tell, was only somewhat like that of a father and a son -- there was enormous variation on that relationship within the Republic, but Qui-Gon did not think that they fit neatly into any of the planetary models. There was affection, but there was also distance; there was a partnership, but it was clear that Obi-Wan owed him obedience. There was also a degree of flexibility that did not exist in many other relationships, and it came, Qui-Gon suspected, because in those other relationships, each party was at least the reason for the relationship.

A father and son bond existed so that the son would grow strong. A teacher taught so that the student would learn.

A Jedi master, on the other hand, trained his Padawan because of the Force. The goal of the Master and Padawan relationship lay outside the individual persons, and when Obi-Wan was badly injured in Nekron IV, Qui-Gon kept watch outside the bacta healing facility until Obi-Wan was taken out of the solution and had the bacta pumped out of his lungs. It was like watching someone be born, Qui-Gon thought.

...

So Qui-Gon did not want to grow old, and he did not want to love his Padawan as much as he did.

...

Obi-Wan was still weak after he came out of the bacta tank, and he lay on the medical bed with his arm still wrapped in a hard shell until the bones had solidified -- it had gone to pieces on the landing, and there had been fears, in fact, that that there was not enough of the original structure left for the bacta to reconstruct. Qui-Gon sat with him, and when Obi-Wan said, aloud, that he was going to lose his sanity if things continued in their current state, Qui-Gon began to read aloud to him. Ship manifests, duty rosters, the texts of medical procedures. Even, at one point, a prospectus for a housing development on Shandrll.

"Pristine lakes, expansive vistas, and utter freedom on the plains of Shandrill. The weather is temperate, as -- as are the na -- "

It was a work of simultaneous translation. The text was in Farandese, and Qui-Gon was reading in the standard language of the Republic. In between, in his head, to occupy himself, he had an intermediate translation of ancient, prophetic language of the Republic, which had a little bit of a problem acknowledging that there were different species on different planets. It had a tendency to regard sentient life as sentient life, which made Qui-Gon's pet hobby a bit annoying, and now, Obi-Wan had turned his head so that he was looking at Qui-Gon with bright eyes and an odd expression.

Qui-Gon knew, very clearly, that Obi-Wan could not see him: the doctors had explained that Obi-Wan's optic nerves would not regain function for another three days.

..

They had locked the door, and Obi-Wan had, at this point, recovered enough to leave the bed for short periods. His back muscles had not regrown enough to fully support his weight, but he seemed to be reasonably comfortable if he sat on Qui-Gon's thighs, facing him, and Qui-Gon supported him with a hand spread flat across the back, underneath the hospital gown, so that there were fingers on either side of the spine.

"You can lean against that," Qui-Gon said.

It was very quiet inside the room -- the monitoring equipment hummed only a little, and they had shut off the lights. They drew the curtain over the viewport, too, so it was dark. There was only the light of the monitoring equipment, essentially, but Obi-Wan could see enough to make out the shape of Qui-Gon to put his hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder. He pressed his mouth to Qui-Gon's forehead, and then, Qui-Gon ran his fingers across Obi-Wan's cheek, starting at the cheekbone then down to the jaw. And then he repeated the motion with Obi-Wan's collarbone and sternum.

Obi-Wan still wore the hospital gown, so Qui-Gon could not see his hands, but he could feel the scars on Obi-Wan. Here was the scar that had grown over where the entry for bacta infusion. It would fade, eventually, as the last of the bacta completed its work in Obi-Wan. Here was the broken rib from a training exercise. Here was Obi-Wan's hip, with a scar on the hipbone that Qui-Gon did not recognize and had not known that Obi-Wan had.

And further, below that.

Obi-Wan gasped and leaned back against Qui-Gon's hand.

...

A discussion some years previous indicated that they each felt the Force differently: Qui-Gon saw the Force as light. Obi-Wan felt it as emotion. Intense, physical emotion that he had difficulty distinguishing from his own, and it meant something that he had learned to do it as much as he had.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes as he kissed Obi-Wan's neck, and Obi-Wan leaned more of his weight against the hand at his back. He tilted his chin up, and he had closed his eyes, too.

Still, in the end, it wasn't enough. Obi-Wan pushed Qui-Gon's hand away and had to finish it himself, with his own hand.

...

"Don't think on it," Qui-Gon said.

They had settled Obi-Wan back in bed, but the spots on Obi-Wan's cheeks hadn't faded. He still looked remarkably embarrassed, and he tried to say something -- he tried to sit up, but Qui-Gon put a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and leaned him against the bed.

"Rest. Sleep."

There was just enough force in Qui-Gon's voice to make Obi-Wan grin. He heard the threat there.

"You wouldn't use the mindtrick on me, Master. Not when I'm as weak as I am. And Force-suggested sleep is never as recuperative as natural sleep."

Qui-Gon said nothing, but Obi-Wan continued grinning, and he eventually settled himself back on the bed. Folded his hands, closed his eyes, and Qui-Gon made himself stand by the bed until Obi-Wan had, in fact, fallen asleep.

And then he bowed, deeply, from the waist. And then he left.

...

As he aged, Qui-Gon reconciled himself to the idea of retiring to Corsucant: he was not comfortable on the planet, but it was what he had. He could not imagine himself at a research station, nor could he imagine himself on permanent diplomatic assignment. He was a Master. His life was what it was.

It was misguided to have made the attempt.

...

Years later, Obi-Wan was on a diplomatic mission with Anakin, and their shuttle put them onto firm land. The grass was an intense, brilliant color, and the sky was clear to the horizon.

"Pristine lakes and expansive vistas. Utter freedom," Obi-Wan said.

Anakin lifted his eyebrows. "It's Shandrill, master."

There was a moment of silence, and then, Obi-Wan nodded. "Indeed, it is."

Comments

[quigonejinn.livejournal.com]

*giggles, WAS EGGED INTO THIS IN PART BECAUSE OF YOU* :D

[bell]

*SCORE, MY EGGING EVENTUALLY YIELDS RESULTS!*

Now the next step is to write angst-free fluffy sex! (of course, I haven't reached that point myself, so I may be in hypocritical in expecting it from you. >D)