Author's Notes: Okay, folks... this is a continuation of the story that began in Bathtime. I laid out a plan here and am determined to follow it through. This story takes place four years after Bathtime.
It would probably be a good idea to have read Bathtime and Time Again before this. But just know that you have been with Qui-Gon for most of your life... and the boy has finally decided to take the step...
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.
Space travel is a marvel. One minute you are firmly settled on a planet, the next in a ship and a few short hours or days after that, you are firmly settled on a completely different planet somewhere across the galaxy. The ramifications and the implications of such a travel mechanism is lost now, as the Republic accepts this type of travel as necessary as breathing. But occasionally, you find yourself looking over the history books of the Republic that you use in your class and wonder at the time before the hyperdrive. Before space travel…some 25000 years ago when planets were their own entities and the Republic was not even a dream.
This thought sits in your mind as the sleek vessel that carries you breaks the atmosphere of Coruscant. Coruscant, the central system of the Republic, the housing of the Republican Senate, the home of the Jedi Knights and trillions of other people, gleams like the crystal jewel it is. Early morning sunlight licks at the sides of the huge chrome, glass and metal monsters of buildings, twisting and reflecting light until the eye is bedazzled. The constant stream of ships in the shipping lanes further refracts the light. As the sun spreads its influence over the landscape, its purple and pinks, oranges and reds add living color to the gray hues of the technology. This planet is so different from your Alderaan, and yet you arrived here in a scant two hours traveling time. Space travel - what a marvel it is.
Qui-Gon’s arms squeeze around you again, pressing you back into his broad chest. He is so much taller than you that his arms appear to travel straight down. The closeness of his cloak to your face allows you to smell the musk and spice that you know is his alone. A marked difference from the stale recycled air inside the ship.
The vessel makes a final turn and stretches out its great claws to grab at the landing platform, and then, before you can think, there is a loud clank as it makes final contact with the floating disk. Qui-Gon’s arms release you and he grabs at your hand.
“Come, love, we are here,” he whispers pulling you from the cabin with little tugs at your hand. You ignore the looks from the crew on the ship. They have never encountered a Jedi being playful before, and in all honesty, they never will again.
“How you talked me into this, Qui-Gon…” you sigh, following behind him.
“Never argue with a Jedi trained negotiator, love, you will lose. Besides, I used logic. How can you turn down my offer of a bond by saying you will not be able to live the life of a Jedi bonded if you have never even given it the chance.” Qui-Gon smiles lightly as we approach the lowering ramp. The darkness gives way to brilliant wisps of color; the stale air of the ship gives way to an early morning breeze of varying coolness.
Qui-Gon’s boots clank down the plank as he strides ahead of you. His head is held high and his arms are tucked in the sleeves of his billowing cloak. He is the perfect picture of a Jedi Master, striding across the landing platform as if he had done this very action all of his life. A sharp breeze comes up right before he reaches a waiting party of people and his hair flies out in the air - a wave of brown silk. You smile at the picture that he makes and at what you know he is saying right now to the gather three people that await your arrival.
You follow more slowly, giving him time to speak of his intentions. Your walk across the platform your skirt sweeps across your legs. The coolness of the breeze gives gooseflesh and you shiver slightly as you move. The deepest black of the landing platform gives way to clear air and sunrise just a short distance away from the gathered men and you concentrate on the glorious sights around you.
As you approach the group, the talking stops and eyes turn to gaze at you. Qui-Gon’s blue ones, although occasionally obscured by his hair, sparkle with barely contained glee. Even from here, the blue of his eyes can rival the bluest summer sky or the richest Corellian sapphire. The two other sets of eyes are a rich chocolate and a wide pale gray-blue.
When you stop by his side, Qui-Gon’s arm easily falls around your shoulders, curling its musculature into its normal comfortable place. His normally strong deep voice is carried on the wind, muffling it a little. “I would like to introduce my intended, Master, Mace, if she were to only commit.”
You nod to Qui-Gon, but the taller, dark skinned Jedi answers before you can. His voice reminds you of chocolate flowing in a sea of cream. “So this is the woman that has kept you entranced for your whole life, Qui-Gon? It is a pleasure to meet you…finally.”
“Cautious she is, Padawan. Good that is. Leads to despair, haste does. Come to understand the life, you have, young lady?” The smaller Jedi asks, tilting his head back on his small shoulders with a sigh. His body is small, barely reaching your waist. The green of his skin is smooth except for the small brown moles on his cheek. His ears are large, much like funnels and they are at right angle to his body as you study him.
Qui-Gon remembers his manners, “Love, this is Mace Windu, and my Master, Yoda.”
You bow slightly at the introductions, and smile at the two beings, one a friend of Qui-Gon, the other his teacher. “I have heard much about the both of you, sirs, and it is my pleasure to meet you both,” you say.
“Return to the Temple, we should, Padawan. Not long will she be here. See what you are about, she should.” Yoda bangs his walking stick against the ground. His ears seem to rest at the right angles, as he turns to the other transport nearby. His walk away is punctuated by a slight limp and the thudding of his stick preceding his steps.
Mace and Qui-Gon exchange a slight smile at the retreat of the ancient Jedi Master. Before you can be led to the transport by Qui-Gon however, Mace’s arm extends as an offer. Your hand, as it makes contact with the cloak sleeve, appears small and delicate. His cloak is a deeper brown then Qui-Gon’s – an almost black, and his tunic appears fresher and newer. A small breeze blows across the both of you and you smell a spice similar to the exotic aromas of a full cargo hold of Corellian spice. The smell matches this man, you think – mysterious, deep and exotic.
Mace smiles down at you and tosses a comment over his shoulder to Qui-Gon. You can feel your Jedi Master walking serenely behind you, his arms tucked behind his back. “Quite a looker you have here, Qui-Gon, old boy.”
You blush at the comment and Qui-Gon chuckles. “I thank you for your frankness, Mace, but I think she is mildly embarrassed by it.”
“My apologies then,” Mace sighs, moving toward the transport.
Qui-Gon moves along side of you, slipping his arm into your hand with a smile. He bends conspiratorially to whisper in your ear. “I have told them of our agreement not to delve into your mind, my love. Your thoughts will be your own here, I promise.”
Mace chuckles quietly as the transport looms in front of your passage. “Yes, I have promised to remain out of your mind. I do not want to be given images of Qui-Gon involved in coitus…”
You laugh as Qui-Gon’s arm tightens under yours. “Mace…” he rumbles unhappily.
Another ramp presents itself to your party and each of you climbs the thin metallic tongue into the interior of the ship. The freshness of a new morning is cut off once again with the stale taste of recycled air. As the tongue retracts, much like its humanoid muscle counterpoint, into the side of the ship and the door comes down, you notice something that bothers you. Sounds, which always are welcome to your ears, have been absent here on Qui-Gon’s Coruscant. There was not the sound of birds, trees, or other assorted wildlife…simply the absence of sound associated with the barrenness of the technology. And that thought makes you sad.
Qui-Gon pulls you into a light embrace in the hull of the transport and leads you to a plush seat made of the deepest red fabric that you have ever seen. You sink into the seat feeling its plush arms extend to enfold you in them. Your Jedi Master sinks into the seat next to you with a smile.
Qui-Gon is exceptionally happy that you agreed to travel here with him to understand what he does, what this part of his life that he has asked you to share is all about. But he does not know of the other thoughts that race through your mind. Will Obi-Wan be here? Will you see your son? How can you see your son? How could you walk away again? And walk away without your love’s support? The sadness has permeated your soul since you climbed aboard the ship to leave Alderaan. This will possibly be the hardest thing you have ever done, save not telling Qui-Gon of his son.
Decisions were made. You made them three years previously. Obi-Wan was taken, and you do not regret that decision. The life your son has been given is so much more than the teacher’s life you could give him otherwise. And you loved your son too much to hold him back from his destiny. Telling Qui-Gon of his son, however…
You feel your lover’s arm fall around your shoulders. His arm and hand are warm and gentle, much like his personality, much like the reasons that you love him. You want to be as far away from here as possible, but you want to please your love, want to be with him…
Gods, help you…this will be the hardest thing you have ever done.