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.
To see a young man through a mother’s eyes is to see him differently than any other woman would see that same young man. It is true that you have not been an intricate part of Obi-Wan’s life these last 24 years, but you have loved him from afar. You have been proud of his achievements, his skills, and his talents…and as such, your sight is tinted through those glasses of love. You see the defiant chin and think it like his father’s and remember the arguments you have heard over the years…other women would think it strong and enticing. You see his height, his breadth of chest and shoulder and think of his growing body, of the small babe you held in your arms. You marvel…others are attracted.
To see him, afar now, dancing by the fire, you see with happiness, with contentment. Feelings that mothers hold for the outward joy of their children. And the vision brings tears of delight to your eyes.
“I have missed him these last few years,” you whisper, as your hands go still and the joking demeanor leaves your being.
“And he has missed coming here…” Qui-Gon answers, laying his hands upon yours on his chest. “But there was nothing to do for it, Tira. He had classes, tests, and duties. He is nearing his trials; he must be ready.” He is silent for a moment and then smiles, brushing the hair from your eyes. The fire had heated you enough that your strands are plastered to your neck and skin with a faint layer of sweat. “He sees you as a mother, Tira…and loves the way you dote on him…”
“You never told him…” you state, rubbing your hands on his chest.
“I would not have broken that bond of trust,” he answers, holding your arms, rubbing them gently. Your hands play in the loose fabric at his chest, tangling in the material and binding your hands to him. “No…he simply knows that his Master loves him as his dear apprentice and his Master’s love dotes on him like he were her own flesh and blood. He has not fared worse for it…”
“No, not in the least.” You agree, shifting on his lap to look at the flames in the distance for a moment. “What is it you wanted to talk about…”
His smile lights up the night. “Good things, Tira…very good things. Obi-Wan will be taking his trials in two month’s time. I have no doubts that he will pass. And after that….I think my life will be changing…drastically.”
“Changing?” you sigh, moving your hands up to his neck. His pulse is strong there, beating like the drums you hear- steady and mighty. His chest is slightly heated from the dancing, and you can feel the light dusting of perspiration that covers him. He has not changed with these passing years- not really. The skin at his eyes are more wrinkled, the beard covers more of his face, his hair is longer, and streaked with gray…but he is still the same man – outwardly. He has simply aged gracefully, wonderfully…like the finest aged wine…all the better for the passing years. Or has your love-clouded eyesight overlooked his fallacies?
“I came to a decision rather recently,” he starts, looking down at his hands, now running over your fingers, just lightly sweeping over them.
No, you decide, watching his head bow before you. Not overlooked them..not really…love has just tempered them…they make him more real, more yours. You both have molded the other with love, with time, until you are a perfect fit, like a glove and hand.
“When Obi-Wan takes his trials….I wish to leave the Order.” He whispers his head still down. He raises his head slowly to meet your eyes. “To come and be with you…if you will let me…”
You sit speechless on his lap. A slight breeze sweeps up the leaves near you, throwing them into a whirl around the tree where you sit. Leave the Order? Be with you? After all this time? By the Gods…
“It is time that I left…time that I backed out of field work…teach occasionally…but not be an active Knight. I have given the best part of my life…and now I need the rest of it…you have waited for me long enough…”
You press your hands to his lips, and you sigh as they visibly shake. “Of course I would let you…this is your home as it is mine…but I don’t expect you to…”
“You should, Tira,” he smiles, pulling your hand away, and kissing it. “By the Gods, you should have demanded it years ago.”
You shift until you are on your knees astride his legs. A smile begins on your lips, breaking across your face like a new dawn, stretching muscles that have not done so in a long time. “Leave the Order…”
“And come to be with you…” he ends, sharing your smile. “I gather this makes you happy…”
“I don’t think happy covers it, Qui-Gon..” you laugh, almost giddy. “But are you sure?” By the Gods, let him be sure! Oh, please…
“I have already talked to Mace about it, love. They would have me on the Council, but I could not stomach it…” you do not wait for the rest of the sentence, throwing yourself forward on your legs to hug him. His chuckle joins yours as you almost cry. Tears of happiness gather behind your lids. Oh Gods! Gods! Yes!
His hand pets at your hair, and you can feel his smile on his lips…feel it in the depths of your soul. He wants this as well. “I want to be with you…and never leave again.” He whispers. “I feel as though my work is complete now…”
You gasp at the sting of joy that rips through your heart. Leaning back, you press your lips to his, gently, as encouragement to stop his talking. But he will not be quiet. His hands land on your hips once again, and his thumbs steady you and keep you away from him. His eyes search yours steadily, gazing across the duskiness. His mouth opens and breaks into a gentle smile.
“And we need to talk about bonding, love.” He whispers, his voice making your toes curl in the slippers you wear.
You smile in the night, holding his eyes to yours. “I don’t know…Qui-Gon Jinn…” you tease. “I might should let you court me for a while…”
His head shakes as his chest rumbles with laughter. His eyes turn serious, before his lips fall to hold a serious line. “Will you?”
You stare at him, your hands brushing his chest. Your lips are permanently plastered in a silly grin -you know it. And your heart is singing…like a choir of angels, like a blessed harp. After all this time, after all the heartache… The passage of time has tempered your aspirations and adhesions to your philosophies. This is the lesson that you have learned these last ten years: you love, you need, you want, you wish… let no thought come between you and those you love….time is fleeting...and life is too short.
“I will.” You whisper back and are startled by the shout of happiness that passes from his lips.
“Thank the Gods…” he whispers, as his voice stops echoing in the wood around you. “Thank the Gods…”
The echoes of his happiness ring until the rushing of blood cuts off sound. His lips touch yours in the chastest kiss…one that speaks of undeniable, incontainable love.