Notes: I think I had an epiphany, watching the movie for the fourth time. Yes, I cried - I think I'll probably always cry, now. But when I got home to write my PV story, I discovered that I couldn't go the way I had before. Thus - this.
Pairing: Q/O
Posted: June 12, 1999
Rating: R. Romantic and smarmy, with smut.
Series: Fourth in the 'Post-Viewing' series (more companion pieces than sequels to each other), after "Landslide", "Afterwords", and "Quiet".
Spoilers: You better believe it, for TPM.
Summary: The end of TPM brings great changes in many lives - especially Obi-Wan's.
Warnings: I don't use betas. :( Any mistakes are solely my fault and the fault of my *#^&@ spellcheck.

It was strange, to be kneeling in the middle of a room in the Palace on Naboo, instead of at the Temple at Coruscant, but necessity was the mother of invention in rapidly changing times. The victory over the Trade Federation - and the destruction of the Sith Lord - was so important an event to the Republic that the entire Jedi Council had come to join the Naboo and the Gungans in their celebration.

And, of course, there was other, more solemn business to attend to, as well.

Obi-Wan waited for Master Yoda to speak. The setting sun streamed in through the window, throwing odd shadows in the corners of the room, and, if he squinted his eyes just so, he could pretend -

"Confer on you, the level of Jedi Knight the Council does," Yoda said to him, leaning on his cane.

Obi-Wan bowed his head. "Thank you, Master Yoda."

"Impressed with your actions in your battle with the Dark Side, we were," Yoda continued. "Great control, you showed, in not giving in to your anger over your fallen Master. The mark of a true Jedi Knight, it was. Stand, you may."

Obi-Wan bowed again, and rose to his feet. A Jedi Knight. He smiled, a flicker of pride at the announcement. It was Qui-Gon's achievement as much as his - if not more so.

Yoda was walking to the door of the small room; Obi-Wan dropped into step beside him. It was his privilege as the most senior member of the Jedi Council to confer these appointments on successful candidates.

Before they reached the door, Obi-Wan asked, "Master - about the boy - "

Yoda stopped, shaking his head. "Clouded, his future is. The Chosen One the boy may be; nevertheless, grave danger I fear in his training."

"Master Yoda - "

He did not finish his thought before the elder Jedi interrupted, chastising him mildly. "Qui-Gon's defiance I sense in you. Need that, you do not." Obi-Wan bowed his head, slightly, deferring to his elder's advice. Yoda sighed. "Agree, the Council does. Trained as a Jedi, young Skywalker will be."

Although he knew that the other Council members were at the 'small' dinner party that Queen Amidala had had prepared for the occasion - 'small' meaning only several hundred people, no doubt, Obi-Wan thought to himself - he did not go down with Master Yoda, instead striding quickly through the palace to the wing that had been prepared for the visiting Jedi.

He knocked impatiently at one of the doors, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. Before the assent to enter was even given, he had grasped the handle and opened the door.

Qui-Gon was kneeling by the window, his eyes closed, in a pose of contemplation and rest; the late-afternoon sun struck him on the face and glinted in his hair, giving him an almost ethereal presence. Obi-Wan stopped himself from speaking, just looking upon the man who kneeled in front of him, his back to the door. Qui-Gon's injuries from the Sith Lord had been severe, but he had given all of his attention since the duel to healing, and, except for an occasional slight twinge of pain that was noticeable only to his apprentice, was nearly recovered.

Obi-Wan could not conceal his smile, nor did he try to, remembering the shocked, echoing cry he had given when his Master had fallen during the duel, the sense of helplessness he felt as he was separated from the man not only by the forcefield but by his own desperate need to avenge his Master's injuries. And then - to race to his side, and find, not a dying man but one near-fatally injured - relief warred with grief and anger until Qui-Gon had raised a hand, stroking his student's cheek to comfort him, and then clasped his student's hand for support.

Qui-Gon rose smoothly to his feet, his eyes still closed. "You are finished already, Obi-Wan?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And your audience with Master Yoda," he asked, casually, finally turning to face Obi-Wan, his eyes open, "it was a pleasant one?"

Obi-Wan grinned openly. They both knew what Yoda's request had meant. After the fight with the Dark Sith, Obi-Wan had proven himself more than worthy of the next stage of his life as a Jedi. "Yes," Obi-Wan answered again. He crossed the patterned marble floor, reaching into a pocket on his belt for a small object which he kneeled and presented to his teacher, palms up. "I need your assistance once again, Master. It is your right."

Qui-Gon picked the small blade up, almost reverently, then grasped Obi-Wan by the forearm and pulled him to his feet, so that they were standing, face to face. Holding the very end of Obi-Wan's braid in his hand so that the length of it was taut, he slowly cut the long lock free.

The emotion of the moment suddenly caught up to the younger man, as his head jerked back slightly when the tie was severed. He looked up with glistening eyes to his elder, who was smiling at him.

Qui-Gon handed back the knife, then wrapped the braid around his left wrist - once, twice. "Obi-Wan, now I need your assistance," he said, holding out the ends of the braid for his former apprentice.

Obi-Wan took them, and, though his eyes were burning with unshed tears, carefully separated the twisted locks and re-braided them together, so that the band held around Qui-Gon's wrist, then securing it with a final tie.

When he had finished, Qui-Gon tilted Obi-Wan's face up, and placed a kiss upon his forehead. "You will be an exceptional Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan. I foresee a great future for you."

"Thank you, Ma - " Obi-Wan stopped himself, suddenly. "Thank you, Qui-Gon," he corrected himself, bowing as he had before Master Yoda.

Qui-Gon smiled at him. "I like the sound of my name coming from you, Obi-Wan."

"As do I," Obi-Wan said. "Are you coming to the dinner?"

"I have given my regrets to the Queen," Qui-Gon said, shaking his head. "I feel the need for a quiet evening."

"Is your injury bothering you?" Obi-Wan asked, concern plain on his face. "Do you want me to look at it?"

"No, I will be fine. Tomorrow will be a long and busy day, however, and I would rather not have to explain my continued absence during that. Go. You must be anxious to celebrate your successful passage into the ranks, and the Council members will be expecting you. Anakin is there, as well; I believe he is re-acquainting his friendship with 'Padme'."

"Yes, - " he barely cut the word 'Master' off, yet again. It would be a difficult thing to remember, not to call this man his Master ever again. Almost half of his life had passed with the strict rules of Jedi conduct rigorously obeyed between them. "I will," he finally said, and turned to make his way to the door.

Before he reached it, however, Obi-Wan stopped himself, closing his eyes for a moment, then turned and walked back to where Qui-Gon was still standing. "Forgive me," he said, quietly, "but if I do not do this right this instant, I will never forgive myself for the lost opportunity." That said, he reached his hands gently around Qui-Gon's neck and pulled the older man's head down, pressing their lips together.

It was a simple, honest kiss, questioning, seeking. Obi-Wan held his breath the entire time, his lips and eyes closed, almost afraid of the reaction of his elder. He could not remember a time when he had not wanted to do this, and now it could be done. Even if only once.

"Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon's voice was soft; Obi-Wan risked opening his eyes, staring into cloudy depths of blue. He could not read those eyes at all, nor the expression on Qui-Gon's face. He continued to hold his breath, waiting.

Finally, when it became obvious that neither of them was going to speak, Qui-Gon brushed his thumb over Obi-Wan's lips, and dipped his head down, repeating the kiss he had been given. But it was not the same as the first; he opened his mouth and licked at the corner of Obi-Wan's lips with his tongue, softly, insistently opening them.

That gentle insistence opened floodgates of hidden emotion in Obi-Wan, and he responded to the ensuing onslaught. They kissed passionately, Obi-Wan's hands clasped into Qui-Gon's hair, Qui-Gon's broad arms around Obi-Wan's back, lips breaking contact only to re-initiate it against a cheek, a brow, an earlobe, a neck.

"Padawan," Qui-Gon breathed into Obi-Wan's ear.

"Master." It was the only answer he could give.

Obi-Wan shrugged impatiently out of his cloak, frustrated that he had to move his hands away from his elder to do so. It was a short few feet to the bed, but it seemed more like miles as they inched towards it, unwilling to part. Finally, Obi-Wan fell onto it, on his back, a delighted, startled laugh ripped from his throat. Qui-Gon looked at him, sprawled inelegantly, chuckling even as he shook his head. Then, as Obi-Wan watched him, rapt, he slowly disrobed, unfastening every piece of clothing and dropping them, one by one, to the floor - belt, sash, tunic, boots, trousers.

Obi-Wan didn't realize that he had once again been holding his breath until he was kissed again, and he had to pull away, gasping, his hands working a path over Qui-Gon's bare skin, memorizing it by touch alone. He was still fully clothed, but Qui-Gon helped with that, too, undressing him as efficiently and methodically as he had himself.

Skin-to-skin contact was charged with the electricity of pure, unbridled need. Obi-Wan arched up, pulling Qui-Gon down against him, the heavy warmth of his body pressing him back into the bed. Their legs tangled together as they kissed and kept kissing, bodies moving unconsciously together. Obi-Wan's hands stroked a trail up and down Qui-Gon's muscled back; Qui-Gon mimicked the touch against Obi-Wan's stomach, making a little rush of breeze over his nipples.

When that same warm, callused hand finally touched his straining erection, Obi-Wan stopped moving completely, aching for a firmer grasp. Pleading through their bond, he nearly shouted out loud when his silent cries were answered, stopping himself only by biting his lips until they nearly bled. He could not stop his groans of satisfaction and joy as Qui-Gon stroked him, again and again, watching the ecstatic young man near the threshold of bliss.

He came with a muted roar, pulling Qui-Gon fully down onto him, feeling the thrust as the older man spent himself between his thighs, panting. He had not yet regained his wits enough to speak when they were kissing again, bodies achingly sensitive to touch but unwilling to part, ever.

Obi-Wan was half-asleep, eyes closed, cooling body covered in the sheet, when he heard the knock at the door, and the softly whispered, "Master Qui-Gon, sir?"

Qui-Gon was pressed up against Obi-Wan's back, his lips resting against the young man's neck. The knock repeated, and he called out, "Just a moment, Anakin." He kissed Obi-Wan once again, behind his ear, then slipped from the bed, retrieving his discarded trousers from the floor beside the bed and wrapping himself in Obi-Wan's cloak. He did not notice that, on him, it fell a few inches from the ground.

He slipped out the door and knelt down in front of the boy, leaving the door slightly ajar. Obi-Wan could hear the soft conversation through it. "What is it, Anakin?" Qui-Gon asked.

"I wanted to see if you were okay. You didn't come to the dinner, and neither did Obi-Wan - " He trailed off. "You are okay, aren't you? Both of you?"

Obi-Wan smiled; he could hear an echoing smile in his lover's voice as he answered. "Yes, Anakin. We are both fine, just tired."

"Master Yoda told me that I'm to be trained. I can hardly believe it." The excitement was plain in his voice; even from that distance, however, Obi-Wan could hear a bare undercurrent of fear.

"It is true, Anakin," Qui-Gon replied. "I will be your teacher, starting tomorrow. Now you must get some rest. Tomorrow will be a very important day for us all."

"Yes, sir," Anakin said. "Um, Master Qui-Gon?"

"Yes, Anakin?"

"Shouldn't you call me 'Padawan'?"

"Tomorrow, Anakin," Qui-Gon said, with a laugh. "Now, go to bed."

"Yes, sir."

Obi-Wan heard the boy's feet as he walked to his room, across the hall. A distant door shut, and Qui-Gon re-entered the room, resting against the bedroom door as he shut it. He closed his eyes as he felt the sheet lift, the cool breeze making him shiver. Soon, however, there was a warm body pressed up against him.

"I know you're awake, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, gentle humour in his voice. "You heard?"

"He's a clever boy," Obi-Wan said, nodding his head. "He will be a challenging student."

"Perhaps too challenging. I fear I may need some assistance with him."

"I happen to know a Jedi Knight who might be persuaded to assist you with the boy," Obi-Wan said, turning so that he lay on his back.

"Indeed? That is very fortunate for me, isn't it?"

"Very," Obi-Wan nodded. He slid his hands into Qui-Gon's hair, pulling him close. "I love you," he said, softly.

Qui-Gon kissed him deeply. "I love you, Obi-Wan. I think I always have."

"And did you foresee this night, Master?"

"No, I didn't," Qui-Gon admitted. "Never did I even dream of this happening. And," he added, with a smile, "I am no longer your Master, Obi-Wan."

"Tonight, you are. Tomorrow I will relinquish my right to call you Master. Tonight - " Obi-Wan stopped himself. "This is my fantasy," he said, opening his eyes to an empty room. He was lying across his bed, where he had collapsed hours earlier. He could still smell the smoke from the funeral pyre in the clothes he wore - it had attached itself thickly to his robe, and would not easily be dismissed. The lamp beside the bed had burned out sometime during the night, plunging the room into darkness. His voice echoed through the room, the reverberations reminding him of his loss anew. "In my fantasy, you are alive, you know of my love and return it, and I may call you 'Master', for one more night."

There was no-one to answer him. Obi-Wan closed his eyes again, and smiled as Qui-Gon reappeared in his mind, warm and real in his arms. His lips parted as he received another ghostly kiss.

"Master."

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