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 call of one wild bird that found refuge in the trees of the garden reminds you that life continues around you. Qui-Gon has ceased to speak or to rock. He has slipped into a peaceful trance- his arms hanging limply at his side, his legs crossed. The inner tunic falls open and allows your hands to brush against his warm chest, lightly furred with hair. With a sigh, you disengage your arms and move around to slip into his lap.
His muscular thighs are strained beneath yours, a mountain of chiseled muscle. They are strained, and warm. You sneak your hands up to gently cup the man’s cheeks. His rough beard scrapes against your palm as your hands curl into his warm skin. His lids are closed over his blue fire eyes. “Qui-Gon?”
It takes several seconds, but you can tell the moment that he inches out of the trance. His muscles tighten slightly and his breathing accelerates. The lids inch open over his eyes and suddenly you are warmed from inside. He kindles the flame in you…every time…simply by his presence. A slight fragrance of wild berry drifts from the small clump of bushes below and you pray that the memory of his sadness will not meld with that smell.
His arms rise to clasp about your waist, grasping at your skin. You can feel the heat…not warmth… of his touch through the clothing. A sadness that is bone deep emanates from his eyes, turning them stone cold blue. “Oh love.”
“We need to talk,” you sigh, moving your hands to grasp at the strands of his hair.
“We need to pack my things, Tira. I need to leave.” His voice is stronger now, some of the steely strength that he relies on in fights rushes in.
“You will not be happy there, Qui-Gon, I fear. There will be only monotonous days and long nights….”
“Long nights of lying next to you… days of monotonous peace and mornings of rising next to you…things that I have craved these last few years.” His eyes are gazing into yours with a power that crushes your thoughts…momentarily.
“You will be leaving your very existence, Love. You are a Jedi born and bred. You need to remain with your brethren and sisters…it is where you draw your strength. Being around so many that are not Force sensitive will drain you…”
“It will be refreshing,” he sighs, clutching his hands quickly. Your skin feels confined between his hands. “The Council here feels that their word is the word of the Force…that their decisions drive the course of the Force…not the other way round. We are killing ourselves from the inside. It stifles. The arrogance that exists here…it is too strong. They decide who will become a knight and who will flounder. Who will face tests too high for their ability and who will be given easy tasks….”
You sigh as you stroke his hair, looking into his eyes. They flash back at you, deep blue now with passion. “Xanatos was taught by the best that the Jedi had to offer, my love. You were it. And you taught him well with everything you had in you. You gave him your heart and your life these last ten years…Those tasks were within his ability, as they were within yours…he turned…”
“You know nothing of this!”
His shout startles you and you lean back from him, your hands fluttering down his chest to collapse in a pile of skin in your lap. You shake your head, but he continues.
“You know nothing of the Jedi life…you have done all you can to remain apart from it. The only thing that you do know is that we do kill…when needed and with regret, but we do kill to get the ends needed. And I agree, our grasp of peace is not as it should be….but…Tira…you know nothing. So do not comment on what you do not know.”
Your mouth opens and you gasp at air momentarily. “I know you.”
“Do you?”
“You doubt that I do?” you ask, incredulously. You try to find his eyes, moving your head around to chase the shadows you see there. “You doubt that I have not soothed your battle wounds, that I have not watched you balance a life of diplomacy and warrior. Do you think that I have loved you most of my life without knowing what you are like?”
His eyes close for a moment and you sigh. “I love you…all of you…”
“I know you do, Tira…I don’t doubt that. I do doubt that you could understand the reasons for Xani turning.”
“Don’t patronize, Qui-Gon. Remember I am not some initiate that you can order around. Darkness and Light exist in everyone…even those that are not Force sensitive. Each person makes the choice of which they will serve. Xani had a choice, as we all do, and he chose. You have a choice and you chose. I had a choice and I chose.” Your voice is higher in pitch than usual and is louder than you have spoken in years. Damn this man. “For you to leave the Jedi would destroy your life’s purpose, my love.” You continue, quieter.
His head turns down momentarily and then rises to look at the trees surrounding you. The limbs and leaves are touched with silver from the moon and it looks like a metallic wonderland. The stream is looks as if it is a fluid silver ribbon twisting and turning over the rocks and in the wind. On the edge of the wind, you can smell the food that is being prepared in the Temple a distance away. It is peaceful.
Your eyes latch onto Qui-Gon’s countenance. His cheeks are shadowed, as are his eyes. That strong neck that your fingers dig into during lovemaking is flexed and taut. His beard is touched with the silver of the moon and his lips are dark in the night. The sloping brow that houses the mind that you so love is creased in pain and thought. And you wait. Wait for his thoughts to be voiced.
You do not wait long.
“I cannot remain here.”
You nod, understanding the power of the memories that exist here for him. And the dislike that he has of this system, even though it is not responsible for his pain.
“But…. I cannot leave either…you are right.”
Silence descends for a moment.
“This is my life and my calling. I am a Jedi. Nothing can change that. But to disagree with the Council…”
“Do you disagree with the Council in all things?” you ask, stroking his neck.
“Not all…rather…only when they distinctly go against what I sense is the proper course. I listen to the Force in my life everyday. I hear the Living Force. It is my strength.” His eyes turn to yours. They are lighter now. “But I cannot take another student…”
“Then don’t,” you whisper, knowing that Obi-Wan will be denied his father for a teacher.
You open your mouth to continue, and his hand rises to press against your lips. His head shakes slowly, causing his hair to move against the hand of yours that is pressed into his neck. The feeling sends shivers down your spine. His other arm wraps tighter around you. “Enough, dearheart, enough. No more talking tonight. I need to sleep to think on this, and I need to love you. Your love is the only thing that is shining brightly with the Light right now in my life and I need to touch that.”
You nod gently and lean up to press your lips to his neck, in the hollow of his throat. This you understand perfectly. Tire the body with love, tend to the sadness and grief with acceptance and allow the mind freedom to think. It is an age-old philosophy that works every time. His hand turns your chin upwards with power, but gently to receive his lips. His lips and yours have been lovers a long time and they welcome the return.