Archive: SWAL, WWOMB, M&A
Category: Post-TPM
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. Ranier Maria Rilke owns(ed)
the poem "Death Experienced". I own this story.
Notes: I was writing a really angstful post-TPM story, but then I
remembered Obi-Wan smiling at Ani at the end, and bunny came up and
nibbled, oh so politely, on my shins.
Pairing: Q/O
Rating: PG
Spoilers: TPM
Summary: Obi-Wan copes with events at the end of TPM.
When, though, you went, there broke upon this scene
a shining segment of realities
in at the crack you disappeared through: green
of real green, real sunshine, real trees.
--from "Death Experienced", by Ranier Maria Rilke.
I held him close and mourned him, but not for long. We had held each other before, after all, through long nights and soft gray dawns. I can count the nights we were apart on one hand, and yes--I knew I would miss his warmth and his touch, but I would not miss him.
He would always be with me, and I knew from the moment he began to cool in my arms that this body meant nothing--it was something he had worn, for a little while, and now he would wear it no longer. I picked up the bundle of clothes and flesh that had once been Qui-Gon Jinn, and carried it carefully to the palace. It had served my Master well, and it would be rewarded with full ritual.
I left the body in the chapel, and went to clean myself. As I was dressing, Amidala came in. "Obi-Wan, I've just been to the chapel. Qui-Gon is--"
I turned around, my tunic in my hand, and watched her eyes widen. "Yes, I know. I put the body there. Is there a problem?"
She stared at me, confused by my calm. "No, no...it's fine. But--"
"There is no death, young Queen. There is the Force." I touched her shoulder, gently. "My Master will always be with me," I said.
"Aren't you...upset?"
"Of course, but I can always find another sparring partner." I was laughing at her now, and she knew it.
"You really didn't care about him, did you?" She turned to leave, and I caught her arm, pulled her close to me, close enough to feel her breath on my chest.
"Amidala, I loved him more than life. There are no words which can tell you how much I loved him. He was my Master. You are not a Jedi, but...any Jedi would understand." I tipped her chin up and gazed into her eyes until she flushed, yanked her arm away from me and stormed out.
I laughed and kept on laughing until I had to sit down. I was still laughing when Anakin ran in.
"Pad--I mean, Amidala said that Master Qui-Gon is--"
"Yes, Ani. He's dead."
The boy began to tremble, as though hearing it from me made it real. I knelt and gathered him into my arms and let him cry, his body as tiny against me as I had once been against Qui-Gon. I would train Ani, raise Ani, be Master and partner and friend to Ani as Qui-Gon had been to me. I realized, as I held the boy, that not only was Qui-Gon one with the Force, he was one with me. In the years to come, I would tell Ani to be mindful of the living Force; I would call him "Padawan" and "my young apprentice"; teach him with all the words my Master used to teach me.
I stroked the boy's hair and thought about how I would cut it when I became his Master, and about how Qui-Gon used to wrap my braid around his fingers and tug me along after him when I was particularly recalcitrant.
Ani pulled away and looked at me. "Pad--I mean, Amidala said you weren't upset at all."
"Amidala does not understand why I am not grieving for my Master. I honor him, Anakin, and I love him, and I will need someone else to sleep with and spar with, but...he has not left me, and I have finished grieving."
"What do you mean he hasn't left you?"
"He is one with the Force, Ani." I brushed his hair back with one hand. "My Master will always be with me. Why, then, should I grieve?"
He frowned at me, trying to puzzle it out.
"Don't worry," I said. "Now, you need to get cleaned up. Come on, you can use my 'fresher. I'll go get us some dinner."
I left him there and wandered out in search of the kitchen. As I passed by the throne room, I heard Amidala talking to one of her handmaidens. They were giggling about my chest.
For all Amidala's poise and competance, she was a fourteen-year-old girl. I wondered if I had been that silly at her age, and suspected that I had, and that Qui-Gon had laughed to himself and let me be fourteen.
I found the kitchen and put together a large tray. I was halfway back to the room when I realized I'd put some of Qui-Gon's favorites on it, and I couldn't help but laugh again, feeling him within me and within the Force--and laughing with me, as truly as he had in life.