DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
The dome house is cool in the afternoon. It’s stone building materials sap the heat from the air, making the white and gray granite like ice on your feet. The borrowed slippers on the bottom of your feet do little to stem the almost icy embrace of the floor. The setting sun on this planet licks at the sky, leaving behind streaks of such deep pinks and purples that you are momentarily bewitched. Such beauty…
You remember little of the flight to Naboo. Mace’s hand never left you. His support never wavered. There were others aboard…the Council…you think…but you are not sure. Nothing registered. Just cold…and aching emptiness.
But here, in this dome, where the torches flicker in the dusk…you feel…
Close.
More alive…more warm…
Mace leads you toward the interior door, his eyes growing more troubled by the second. He pauses in front of the door, his head hung now. He studies the floor as if looking for an answer…and knows he will not find one. His head shines flickers in the torchlight, his skin aglow. Your hand tightens in his. For some reason, after the several hour trip…you are calmer now…can think.
“He is here?” you ask, your voice heavy with tears.
A quick nod is given, and the Jedi Master’s head rises to look at you. There is infinite sadness there.
“And Obi-Wan…?”
“Is with Yoda as we speak…the Council needs a report and an answer before they can…issue Qui-Gon further on his journey…” his voice is low in the night. And then a seeming steely strength touches his demeanor and he straightens.
You nod, moving your hand from his. Before you can venture too far, Mace’s hand falls to your shoulder. You can feel his broad bones there leaning heavily on you. It grounds you, but traps you. “Do you need me to…”
You shake your head. All these years you have been bonded to a Jedi in your heart. You have a silence and a strength in you that was not there in your youth…something you learned from the man you love…loved. “I need to see him…alone…I need to…” you need to what? Touch him? “I need to…” You can do this.
His head inclines slightly, as if accepting your need as commonplace. He motions to the door a small sad smile on his face. “Always a match for him, you were…call me if you need someone…”
“How long?” you begin, and then clear your throat. “How long do I have with him?”
“Ten or fifteen minutes…” His eyes sweep over yours one last time, before he turns to sweep down the hall, his brown cloak mingling with the stone around him. “Or longer, Tira…whatever you need…”
You nod, turning to the door. Its surface is solid, tall, broad and so natural. Like Qui-Gon, you think, and touch your head to its surface. So like Qui-Gon… You press on the door, swinging it inward.
And cease to breathe.
Oh my love!
Flickering light from torches surrounds him, throwing inhuman shadows against the walls. His hair is around him on the stone, fanned out, his ponytail tucked under head. His arms are crossed over his torso, and folded in his cloak, resting. Power…might…at rest. His skin is glowing from the light, his hair dark and rich like chestnuts.
His nose, so asymmetrical…proud…that chin…jutting, defiant…He looks as though he sleeps. Peaceful. Rested…unlike he usually is…was. Strong neck, wide shoulders…so broad…so mighty… Everything you remember of him. All the parts of him that touch you in your dreams. Shout at you in your fantasies. His body is here. All that is missing are his eyes. His wonderful, blue, sky like, sapphire eyes…so deep…
Your tears start without you knowing. The pain…the pressure…you can’t breathe. He will never open them again…and the spirit that you so love…the humor…intelligence…kindness…love…it is gone.
Gone.
You feel your hands reaching for his chest. In a haze, you see your hands touch the skin there. You can’t feel your fingers as they skim the skin. The golden skin is encased in a clean tunic, whiter, more pure than the one that he usually wears. The thought brings a smile to your lips, through your tears.
“A new tunic, love?” you whisper, touching his motionless chest. “So white…you haven’t worn one like this since…” you sigh, allowing the tears to fall around you lips. “Since the time that I first met you…in the garden at the palace..the Grand House. You and Yoda were on Alderaan for a mission, remember? You tripped me when you went running by…a fifteen year old lanky boy…a Jedi…but still all legs and elbows…you helped me up…and dusted me off, offering your arm to me as if I were a lady..and not a simple town girl. I never told you how happy I was that my mother had sent me on an errand that day…”
You sigh, running your hands under the seams on the tunic. “This was the one you wanted to wear on the bonding day…wasn’t it? I wouldn’t have known you…so clean…” Splashes of tears mar the white of the fabric, making it darker. You lean forward, putting your cheek on his still chest. You can still smell the sweat on him…the musk. And a deeper, more exotic scent…a rose. Citrus…the smells of your house.
“You know…this is the first promise that you are going to break…Why did you have to go on this mission…why? Why after all this time…when we finally decide to be together…why? Qui-Gon…why?” you hear your voice raising in anger. “You know…when you…when…you…I was out in the orchard, laughing…laughing…I didn’t even know…I always thought if something had happened…I would know. I would feel it…and you just passed without me…”
A deep breath only brings more tears as you grip at his chest. The fabric gives, and you swear that you will soon feel his hand cupping your hair, like he always loved to do… But he remains still. “And you leave me here…alone…when we were so close…All my life I waited…”
You don’t finish the sentence. Such pain…unable to speak…crumple…hang…tears…until there is nothing left in you. Until there is only the emptiness that you think…know…will never leave. The anger bleeds out of you, flowing to the floor like the tears that flow from your eyes. But the yawning emptiness…it remains…
Obi-Wan stands so proud. His back is like a rod- his shoulders thrust back holding his head erect. You can see where his braid has been cut. Severed by Mace in his Master’s stead, and then laid to burn with Qui-Gon. Both you and your unknowing son lit the pyre together, your hands clasping on the torch as you touched it to the kindling. His eyes are trained on a spot in the fire, on his Master’s face. They are a dead blue-green, just gazing lifelessly into the dancing flames. He did not get time with Qui-Gon to say a final goodbye. And this hurts you as much as it does him you think.
Your eyes are puffy, and you feel tired. So very tired. After the tears dried, and your soul deadened, you heard Mace approach. He had picked you up and escorted you away, until the ceremony.
Anger…you still feel anger. But not as much…and grief…you feel that too. But you have said your peace, both aloud and silently. Death is a passage, or at least that is what your philosophy has always taught. A passage from one form to another. The Jedi feel the same. But knowing that, and knowing that it is a time of celebration of the continuation of life, you still feel the yawning pain in your chest. And you know that it will not leave any time soon.
All you can think of now…is Obi-Wan.
You are the only ones left in the pyre room. He stands, holding Qui-Gon’s lightsaber, his hand hanging limply at his side. You face him across the dais, now just lightly glowing like an ember. Ashes dust the surface…now all that is left…you gulp…you cannot think of that right now…concentrate…Obi-Wan. Help him…
“Obi-Wan?” you say your throat rough with tears and sadness.
“I promised you I would bring him back safe…” he whispers, his tone heavy and his voice cracked. His eyes meet yours, and you see his father looking back at you…the seriousness, the intensity. The sadness. His hair is dark in the night as it creeps in. The light wind stirring the ashes, as if nature is calling to Qui-Gon to join it.
“You did what you could.” You state, moving around the dais. Oh love, your son…he is hurting. As you near, you see the tracks of tears and the threatening of more. So full are his eyes of liquid that they appear like green pools. “And he did what he could to keep you safe…”
He opens his mouth, but you lay your hands on his lips, pressing to keep them closed. “He loved you like a son, Obi-Wan. And if he felt that this is what his destiny was leading him to do…then…I can’t fault him, or you. I am angry he left and I hurt to my bones…”
“But you…” Obi-Wan’s dam breaks and his tears fall on his cheek, on your hand. “I feel your grief…it is incredible…”
“He has passed, Obi-Wan…into another plane. I will miss him…like I would my own breath. And I need time to….”
“adjust?” he asks, his hand landing on yours on his cheek.
“..learn how to live again…” you answer, swaying slightly. “As do you ….come to Alderaan for some time…come to my home. Grieve with me…”
Obi-Wan nods, his head hanging low. “I will. My padawan needs time at the Temple… I can come for a space of time.” His eyes are kinder as they rise to look at your face. His sleek cheeks and unmarred brow are clean of wrinkles. His hair is tinged with sweat and is darker in the night, like weathered straw. Yes, you think, you will continue to grieve…but you must help your son.
As you begin to walk away, leading the young Jedi behind you, you hear his voice, so like his father’s in youth, say the one line that you never thought you would hear: “He was my father.”
You turn to look at Obi-Wan, your mouth open. How could he know? He knows? How? You forget to breathe, you forget your grief.
Obi-Wan turns and looks at the pyre once again, his legs braced apart, his hands folding into his cloak. “You said he loved me like a son…it was because I was his son. Born out of love…”
You grasp at the wall behind you, allowing your legs to bend a little to catch you. It supports you with cold indifference. How could he know? “Who? How?” you whisper.
“No one ever told me…I just know…knew.” He gasps out, and you realize that his tears have started again. “Ever since I was a young child and I would see him, when he took me as a Padawan…I felt this connection. This draw… His aura and mine were the same. It is just as I know you are my mother. I have always known.”
You nearly cry out in anguish. All these years of hiding this secret from this boy, of Qui-Gon holding back his innermost feeling for him…and he knew all along. You move forward to grasp at his arms to hold him. The muscle there is powerful, strong. He looks at you and you nod, needing no other words right now. You cannot begin to assimilate this knowledge...He knows! So many mistakes, so many wrong guesses…so much hope…
You and he stand there as the pyre finally releases its last glow to the ether. You feel nothing…not shock, not anger…not grief…just exist. As you are sure that Obi-Wan does at that moment too. Qui-Gon is released into the Force. Finally. And now you must learn what it is like to live without him.
There is much to talk about…much to explain…much to sort out…but right now, you simply let the feel of the night air dust your skin. Tomorrow will be soon enough. And turning toward the door, you feel new tears falling on your cooled skin.
You need your home...his home...to gather your thoughts, to comfort yourself...