Each thing in its turn.
The saying had more weight before I started repeating it a hundred times a day, Obi-Wan thought ruefully.
The philosophical meaning behind the words had all but faded now; the phrase was now a jumble of syllables, without definition or purpose. He'd used it out during the last few weeks with Qui-Gon.
Obi-Wan sighed, and shifted slightly on the meditation stone. It was tenth day, a time to be used for reflection. He and Qui-Gon rarely had the opportunity to fully observe this practice; their various journeys and missions left little free time. But they were now on Coruscant, with no engagements more pressing than attending the Assembly later that night. Qui-Gon had left early for his own solitude, and Obi-Wan was now trying -- however unsuccessfully -- to follow his example.
It had been almost two months since their mission to Iloh. Two months since they had each discovered that their passions were shared -- and since Qui-Gon had refused to continue the affair.
Each thing in its turn. When I have learned to be more independent, to stand on my own, I will be able to take my trials and become a Jedi Knight. As a Jedi Knight, I will be Qui-Gon's equal. Then, perhaps --
Obi-Wan clamped down on that line of thought. Thinking of his independence as nothing but a step towards Qui-Gon's affections was the easiest way to insure that he would never achieve it.
He had tried, these last two months. His Master wanted to be his teacher, rather than his lover -- well, then, he was willing to be taught. Qui-Gon, demonstrating levels of control his Padawan could still only dream about, had for the most part acted as if nothing had happened. He still assigned exercises to Obi-Wan, still worked with him in the training ring, still treated him with the same warm regard as before. Obi-Wan envied him the polish of years and experience; for the first few weeks after their liaison, he'd fouled up more exercises, been pounded more in the training ring, and behaved more stupidly around his Master than he could have dreamed possible.
But Qui-Gon had been patient with him, and Obi-Wan had tried to have patience with himself. After a while, he'd regained a semblance of calm detachment. He could once again block his Master's blows in the ring, could levitate or project as exercises demanded. Speaking to Qui-Gon no longer involved unfinished sentences or awkward pauses. As far as any outside observer would have been able to tell, everything was as it had been before.
Obi-Wan did not have an outsider's perspective. Within his heart, the pain of loving Qui-Gon -- and being unable to act upon that love -- still bled anew every day.
Once again, he tried to center himself, to think upon one of the Jedi koans meant to inspire meditation. And once again, he returned to the one he couldn't shake from his thoughts.
Each thing in its turn.
Now frustrated beyond measure, he began to rise -- then stopped himself. The Masters all taught that, when one particular thought kept intruding upon meditation, it was best to accept it, examine it. To do otherwise was to risk ignoring something that needed addressing.
So, what does that mean? Obi-Wan asked himself. Why have I focused it so much on Qui-Gon? Probably because I've focused everything on Qui-Gon, lately. The whole purpose behind Qui-Gon's decision was to allow me to be independent of him. But apparently it has had the opposite effect.
He considered that for a moment. Logical enough, as far as it went. The corollary occurred to him immediately: if resisting a sexual relationship with his Master only made him more dependent, would beginning such a relationship end that dependence?
The band of pain that had bound his chest for weeks seemed all at once to loosen, letting his heart beat freely again; Obi-Wan could feel his spirit brightening to this new idea, and seized upon it. Was it possible? Once they were together, he would be free of this desperate longing; he would be happy, content, better able to concentrate on all the tasks set before him. If he were a better Jedi, self-reliance would naturally follow.
Perhaps that's what he's missing, Obi-Wan told himself. Maybe our turn has come, whether Qui-Gon sees it or not.
The logic was a little less clear at that point. But as far as Obi-Wan was concerned, he had a working hypothesis.
And, of course, hypotheses exist to be tested.
Qui-Gon would almost certainly not see it this way. The younger man's mouth quirked as he imagined his Master saying, "So, my plan didn't work? Well, we all make mistakes. Sorry about that. Let's go to bed."
Not very likely.
But perhaps he could be persuaded to consider the idea if Obi-Wan presented it a little more gradually --
The Assemblies at the Jedi Temple varied widely in character; at different times, they might feature anything from tonal chanting to political debates to amateur theatricals. This night was, to Obi-Wan's thinking, more interesting than most -- Masters Loka and Windu were demonstrating lightstaff fighting techniques. Fascinating though this was, he could not help looking away briefly, scanning through the crowd for a glimpse of Qui-Gon.
Finally, Obi-Wan found him; he stood near the back of the Masters' area, slightly apart from the others. He let himself study the distinctive profile for a minute; if one were seeing Qui-Gon for the first time, it would be easy to believe that he was a hard, unyielding man. Strong jaw, heavy brow, a fighter's nose -- all of it forbidding, except the eyes --
Qui-Gon turned then, looking over at his apprentice. Had he caught the tenor of Obi-Wan's thoughts? The idea intimidated the younger man at first, then pleased him. Instead of immediately glancing away, he returned his Master's gaze for a few long moments before turning back to the arena.
He knew that Qui-Gon was still looking at him, felt the attention like heat on his skin. But he resolutely watched the exhibition.
Loka managed to force Windu's staff down and spin her own towards his head, stopping just millimeters short of the fatal blow. Master Windu stepped back and bowed, conceding the match; Obi-Wan joined in the applause enthusiastically enough, but his mind was already on his next conversation with his Master. What should he say? How could he begin the process of -- might as well put it bluntly, he told himself -- seducing Qui-Gon?
They found each other in the crowd easily enough. Qui-Gon fell into step beside his apprentice, and saved him the trouble of speaking first. "This presentation was more to your liking, I think."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, really, I was hoping for one of Master Yaddle's discourses on theosophy." Qui-Gon chuckled softly as Obi-Wan continued, "I realize that the lightstaff is a purely ceremonial weapon, Master, but could we not practice with it sometime?"
"I anticipated that this would catch your interest. Today I arranged for us to spend a few days on Dinwa Prime." The small planet, an uninhabited nature preserve, was frequently used by the Jedi as an area for solitude and training. "We should have a chance to try some staff work."
Dinwa Prime -- just he and Qui-Gon, all but isolated on a beautiful, peaceful world -- "That would be ideal," Obi-Wan said. When his Master gave him a sideways glance, he continued easily, "We could do with some time away from our missions. At least I could."
"Then it's settled," Qui-Gon said. "We'll catch the transport tomorrow morning." And with that, he touched his Padawan's arm in farewell, and moved away through the crowd. Obi-Wan watched him go, a faint smile on his lips.
Ideal.
They set up camp quickly that first morning, on one of the established Jedi sites. This included a clearing in the forest, near a stream, and a makeshift practice ring atop a small hill surrounded with thick sivarra vines. But that was all the luxury it afforded.
No sooner had they gotten their tent assembled and gear unpacked than Qui-Gon withdrew two wooden poles from a bundle. Obi-Wan raised one eyebrow. "Master?"
"You wanted staff work, didn't you? You'll do better to start with wood before moving on to the real thing." Qui-Gon tossed one of the staffs to his Padawan and began moving to the practice ring.
Obi-Wan dutifully followed him up the hill, somewhat chagrined -- he had been training with real weapons for years. Did his Master no longer trust him with the risk? Had his close call on Iloh shaken Qui-Gon's confidence in his ability?
"You've worked with quarterstaffs, of course," Qui-Gon said, although his voice seemed distant, coming from somewhere outside Obi-Wan's worry. "You know the basic techniques. But a lightstaff has energy, and so provides different momentum and resistance. You'll have to compensate for that."
Obi-Wan nodded, taking the battle stance. "Show me."
Qui-Gon answered him by striking; Obi-Wan parried the blow easily, but was caught off guard when his Master reached out and grabbed the staff. "You see how close I am to your shoulder? With a lightstaff, the reverberation from the blow could've carried it through and hurt you badly. Keep a larger zone of safety around yourself."
Obi-Wan nodded and they started over; years of tandem practice helped them find a rhythm, in which their bodies worked in concert. Qui-Gon was attacking systematically, not yet attempting to surprise or challenge his Padawan, but instead to show him the variations on each move in turn. As they worked, Obi-Wan grew more comfortable with the different patterns and pacing, and found some of his attention moving from his task to his Master, as it so often did.
The morning sun was slanting through the evergreens, falling on the long sweep of Qui-Gon's hair, highlighting each shade of brown and gold and grey. His lips were set in a firm line as he concentrated on the motions, belying just how soft and expressive they could be --
That particular distraction proved too much. Obi-Wan swung his staff too hard, too far right, striking Qui-Gon sharply in the ribs. The older man staggered back a step and fell, although more from surprise than the actual force of the blow. Wincing, Obi-Wan dropped to his side. "Master, I'm sorry. Are you all right?"
Qui-Gon pushed himself up to a sitting position, glaring at his apprentice. "No thanks to you. If you meant to move to real combat, you should've alerted me. But you didn't mean to, did you?"
"No, sir. I just made a mistake -- one that I ought to be past making, by now," Obi-Wan admitted. He silently chided himself; even though he was giving a freer rein to his infatuation, there was no excuse for dangerous errors. "I was -- distracted."
He tried to think of a possible excuse for his distraction, but Qui-Gon did not ask the cause; instead, his Master looked at him penetratingly for a moment before speaking. "We come back to this time and again, Obi-Wan. You must master the skill of living only in the moment. The moment is the only place in which you exist, the only place in which you can act. Things beyond your reach, in the present or the past, are irrelevant." His voice was grave, as if he were saying this for the first time. "There is a time to consider what has happened, and what is to come. But never at the expense of the present. For things such as this, Padawan, you must remain in the here and now."
Obi-Wan nodded, taking the old lesson more to heart than he usually did. If things were truly meant to change between them, the right opportunities would present themselves. And probably not during combat.
Just then, he saw that Qui-Gon had gotten a leafy twig tangled in his hair when he fell. Obi-Wan hesitated only a moment before bringing his arms around Qui-Gon's neck; his Master's eyes widened in surprise at the intimate gesture.
"Hold on," Obi-Wan muttered, as he brushed the twig out, then leaned back and held it up as explanation. The brief closeness had excited him -- and Qui-Gon too, he'd wager -- but he wanted to take it no further than that. He wanted the idea of renewing their romance to occur to Qui-Gon -- slowly.
His Master raised his eyebrows, then nodded. "Well. Thank you, Obi-Wan." He paused for a moment, then slapped his hands on his thighs. "Back to work?"
Those first moments set the tone for the entire trip. For the most part, they did precisely what Qui-Gon had planned: brushed up on Obi-Wan's skills at combat, at tracking, at meditation. But now and then, when the opportunity arose, Obi-Wan had -- and took-- chances to be closer to Qui-Gon.
He planned nothing specifically; he didn't need to. There was always a moment to stand a little closer than necessary, to quickly brush Qui-Gon's hair away from his face, to touch his arm or back as they spoke. Obi-Wan was careful to do everything offhandedly, and to leave each small gesture at that.
Besides, he thought hopefully, he was definitely making progress. At first, Qui-Gon had seemed oblivious to what Obi-Wan was doing; now, although he still apparently did not notice, his behavior had altered subtly. He stood a little closer to his Padawan, even sometimes returned the quick touches that punctuated their conversation. Their unspoken agreement after Iloh -- to allow each other a little more space -- had dissolved completely.
Hopefully, their spoken agreement would follow suit.
The first calculated move Obi-Wan ever made was on the morning of the sixth day. He awoke to discover that Qui-Gon, as usual, had risen before him. Once, Qui-Gon would have awakened his apprentice and dragged him to the stream to wash along with him; on this trip, however, he had always waited until after the bath.
Controlling their mutual attraction would, obviously, be a great deal more difficult in such a situation. Obi-Wan considered, for a moment, meeting Qui-Gon there; he rejected the idea quickly, however. Too obvious. Too blunt.
A better idea soon presented itself; smiling wickedly, he gathered up his things and strode towards the creek. After casting about with the Force, Obi-Wan soon located his Master, and deliberately headed to a position downstream, and slightly downhill from where Qui-Gon was bathing. A place where he could not see Qui-Gon -- but where he could be seen.
Obi-Wan walked to the water's edge, uncertain if he was being observed or not. But he slowly stripped off his leggings and nightshirt, not blatantly performing for his intended audience, but moving gracefully, intently, nonetheless. He tossed them aside and jumped in, ignoring the chill.
Just wondering if Qui-Gon was watching was arousing enough, and somehow that awareness changed the entire experience; had he ever before noticed the feel of water-smoothed stones against his feet? Or the delicious contrast of the stream's chill with the sunny warmth above? The currents rushing around his body seemed almost deliberate. Obi-Wan felt as though he were being stroked, massaged --
Watched.
All at once, he knew that Qui-Gon had seen him, and had not looked away.
Obi-Wan paused for a moment, but then continued with his bath. It was difficult not to turn around, nor to reach out with his mind to try and sense his Master's thoughts. He longed to do so -- Qui-Gon had, of course, seen him in all stages of undress a hundred times, but not since before they were lovers. Did he look at him differently now? Obi-Wan was sure he must. And he couldn't help wondering how much of his sensual pleasure was his own, or how much might be emanating from Qui-Gon.
In either case, it felt wonderful.
He lathered up his hair, and dunked his head backwards, aware of the long curve of chest and abdomen he created. After that, he began soaping his body methodically, taking his time on each part in turn; the attention he gave himself redoubled with the pleasure he took in Qui-Gon's observation. Obi-Wan was beginning to wonder whether either of them would be able to maintain the pretense --
When suddenly he knew that Qui-Gon had turned away.
He breathed out slowly, a little disappointed. Then again, he hadn't intended to go any further. At least not this day. But later --
For the first time since he'd begun, Obi-Wan realized he truly could succeed. Not eventually, not in some dimly glimpsed future, but soon -- within a few weeks, perhaps.
Even Qui-Gon's resolve could be broken.
Usually, Obi-Wan enjoyed sleeping outside. Raised as he had been, amid Coruscant's towering cities, he was always fascinated by the out-of-doors. As a Jedi, he valued the opportunity to be closer to nature -- to be attuned to the seasons, the variety of life around him. More simply, he usually had fun; it was a change from endless guest quarters, or cramped rooms in ships. And he was almost always near Qui-Gon.
However, on this trip, he'd found it difficult to get to sleep. That same proximity to his Master that had always comforted him before was now almost more temptation than he could endure. He was careful not to reveal too much of his longing to Qui-Gon; everything depended on their attraction coming to the surface again slowly, gradually, so that Qui-Gon barely noticed the transition, until it seemed as if he had changed his own mind.
But sometimes Obi-Wan felt as if he could not bear it a moment longer.
One night, after Qui-Gon had turned in, Obi-Wan sat up for a while, looking at the stars and trying to clear his thoughts. The soft breezes carried the scent of the evergreens and the loamy earth around them; this tranquil setting should have helped him be calm. Instead, he kept discovering the sensuality of it, thinking of how perfect it would be to hold his Master in his arms, right here, right now --
He was startled to hear Qui-Gon's tent open; the older man stepped out, brushing his hair back from his face. "Still awake, Padawan?"
Obi-Wan, so embarrassed by the fear that his wishes had been projected to Qui-Gon, could not answer, but simply nodded. Even as he began to rise, Qui-Gon shook his head, and motioned for him to stay in place. The younger man felt his heart begin thumping wildly as his Master came and sat beside him.
"Not a bad idea, really. It's a beautiful night." Qui-Gon said.
Reminding himself, with force, that his Master was referring only to the idea of sitting up beneath the stars, Obi-Wan answered calmly. "We don't get opportunities like this very often. We're always running around, taking care of this negotiation or that diplomatic errand. Just stopping and taking it all in -- it's a luxury."
"One that I would've missed. Thank you for reminding me."
Obi-Wan had to fight not to think of other luxuries Qui-Gon was missing. But at this moment -- when his Master had joined him in the the dark of the evening -- he couldn't help wondering just how effective his plan had been. Was Qui-Gon feeling the same tension he was? Also longing to reach out, to touch --
Shielding his thoughts as best as he could, Obi-Wan tried to think of something, anything else to say. His earlier concerns about the remedial practice they'd been doing resurfaced, and his desperation for a topic of conversation substituted for the courage he'd lacked before. "Master -- are you disappointed in me?"
"What do you mean, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon turned to face him, forehead furrowing in concern. "Why would you ask such a thing?"
"You brought us here for practice on things I already know, mostly. Even the lightstaff work you made me do with the wooden poles I've used for years. Do you doubt my abilities?"
"Of course not. Have you been worrying so this whole time?" When his apprentice nodded, Qui-Gon sighed and put his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Learning a skill is one thing, young Padawan. Maintaining it is another. I brought you here so that we could both practice what we know."
Obi-Wan breathed in deeply, his spirit warmed both by Qui-Gon's answer and by the touch of his hand. And Qui-Gon didn't seem to be pulling his hand away. It didn't seem possible -- but could it be that Qui-Gon had already changed his mind? That he was ready --
Once again, Obi-Wan shielded his thoughts, although he could not have said whether he was doing so to hide them from Qui-Gon or protect himself from the emotions they inspired. He spoke softly. "Well then, why now?"
"Honestly? The Council was pushing a mission on us that I did not want to accept. We hadn't yet actually been ordered to accept it -- but we would have been, if I hadn't come up with something else for us to do."
Obi-Wan straightened, so surprised he almost didn't notice the hand falling from his shoulder. "Qui-Gon -- we aren't supposed to pick and choose assignments as we will. If the Council felt we were best suited for a mission, we ought to have -- what's so funny?"
His Master's grin flashed white in the darkness. "Have you ever considered how wise Yoda was to steer the two of us together?"
"I have often been glad of it," Obi-Wan said truthfully. "But what do you mean?"
"You were a hot-tempered boy who cared not at all for rules and regulations. And contrary to the core -- determined to do the exact opposite of what you were told." Obi-Wan would've liked to cut in and defend himself, but the description was all too apt. "So, to whom did Yoda guide you? A Knight who rebelled against the Code as often as possible. Which meant, of course, the only way for you to rebel against me was to become the perfect Jedi Knight." Qui-Gon laughed warmly.
"Scarcely perfect," his Padawan answered, flushing happily at the compliment. "I've wanted to bend the rules once or twice myself."
He'd spoken quickly, without thinking of the most recent -- and most important -- rule he'd urged them to break. But the second he uttered the words, he cringed with embarrassment; his Master's silence suggested that his thoughts, too, had gone to his decision not to remain Obi-Wan's lover. They sat quietly for a few minutes, before Qui-Gon answered him. "Well - you've always been particular about which rules you were willing to break."
"Never without cause," Obi-Wan said softly.
For the first time since they'd begun, Obi-Wan received a strong sense of Qui-Gon's feelings. There, beneath the surface, was desire -- as strong and wrenching as his own. Just sensing that was almost enough to drive Obi-Wan to madness -- but combined with the desire was something else.
The same reluctance. His Master was still a man at war with himself.
As desperately as he longed to reach out to Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan forcibly reminded himself of his original plan. I'll wait, he told himself. I can do it. It's going to hurt like hell, but I can do it --
"Good night," he murmured, touching Qui-Gon's shoulder briefly before going back to his own tent. He didn't look behind him, but knew that the older man was surprised at his sudden withdrawal.
He was rather surprised at it himself. But he climbed resolutely into his bedroll, trying hard not to think about what he wanted to have happened.
What could have happened, maybe --
But no. He knew that Qui-Gon wasn't yet ready to reach out for him. To let his old fears go, to understand that nothing but those fears stood between them.
When that time came, things would be different.
It was their last day on Dinwa Prime, and all in all, Obi-Wan considered the trip a success. So he was thinking on nothing more complicated than the feathery patterns of the clouds above him when opportunity presented itself.
Qui-Gon came back from the nearby stream, and gestured towards their bundled equipment. "Packed up to leave already, Padawan?"
"Shouldn't I be? The transport will be here for us in two hours."
"Well, then, that gives us two hours to train, doesn't it?" Qui-Gon's smile was challenging. "Unless, of course, you've already had all you can take."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "Of course not. I only thought to have mercy on a man of your advanced years." Qui-Gon shot him a menacing look, only half-joking. "What shall we practice, Master?"
"Whatever you feel needs more work. Although I don't suppose that narrows it down much." The teasing, in and of itself, was not unusual; however, there was an edge to their voices. A tightly suppressed energy, crackling beneath the surface.
Obi-Wan gestured towards the practice ring. "Wrestling, then. Three falls out of five?" As long as they were working out, he might as well take advantage of the opportunity to be as close to Qui-Gon as possible.
"As many falls as you care to take," Qui-Gon said. That comment, at least, was not entirely in jest; wrestling was a particular weakness of Obi-Wan's, and a particular strength of his Master's.
While they walked up the hillside, taking off their outer jackets and belts as they went, Obi-Wan could not help stealing a glance at Qui-Gon. Beneath the tighter undershirt he could see the thick muscles in his Master's arms, the strong planes of his back, all flexing as he reached up to put his hair in one tail at the back of his neck. The older man took his place at the edge of the ring, smiling as he called, "Ready?"
"Oh, yes," Obi-Wan muttered, getting into position himself. They circled for a moment, arms braced, eyes locked on one another. Obi-Wan tried to apply his energies to the task at hand; it would be nice to win a wrestling match for a change. To be able to pin Qui-Gon to the ground --
Concentrate, he reminded himself.
After a moment, Obi-Wan feinted left, then came in hard on Qui-Gon's right side. Qui-Gon, undeceived, locked his arms around his apprentice and bent him backwards, until he was completely out of balance.
Obi-Wan -- who, if nothing else, had gotten a lot better at losing these matches -- managed to twist out of his Master's grip. Qui-Gon nodded in approval. "That's it. You can defend yourself now. But can you attack?"
In answer, Obi-Wan lunged forward with such force that he actually managed to knock Qui-Gon back a couple of steps. Qui-Gon found his equilibrium quickly, though, and began pushing back with equal force. Sweat trickled down Obi-Wan's forehead as he continued the pressure, working hard against his Master.
However, it was fast becoming hard to keep his mind on what he was doing. He hadn't counted on how it would feel, having Qui-Gon's body pressed hard against his, those strong arms wrapped around him, holding him close.
Come to think of it, Qui-Gon seemed to be breathing a bit heavier than would be demanded by the exertion alone.
Obi-Wan continued his efforts, putting more and more strength behind it. Qui-Gon was only a few inches from the edge of the ring -- it wouldn't take much more to push him out --
When suddenly, Qui-Gon gave into the pressure, twisting around and tossing Obi-Wan easily over his side. The younger man stumbled on the hillside, scrambling for purchase and failing; he rolled down the slope, gaining momentum as he went. He finally landed in the thickest patch of sivarra vines, but still with an audible thud that winded him.
As he lay there, trying to catch his breath, he heard Qui-Gon coming down the hillside as well -- albeit under his own power. The absurdity of it struck Obi-Wan all at once, and he began laughing. He gasped out, "I'm sorry, Master."
"Sorry for what?"
"Suggesting that we wrestle." When Obi-Wan opened his eyes, he saw Qui-Gon standing at his feet, smiling broadly.
"I should imagine you are. You fell like an unconscious man; you should be able to tuck and roll, perhaps pull yourself out of something like that. Anything broken?"
"Only my pride," Obi-Wan said, still smiling up at his Master from the thick bed of leaves. "I must look a fool."
"No. No, you don't," Qui-Gon answered quietly, then shook his head as if to clear it. He held out his hand to help Obi-Wan up.
Obi-Wan took the proffered hand, but didn't immediately rise; nor did Qui-Gon attempt to pull him to his feet. His expression was unreadable, but Obi-Wan could sense the hesitation. The yearning --
Don't think, he told himself. Just act.
With one sharp tug of his hand, he pulled Qui-Gon down to him. One of his Master's hands landed on the other side of him, while the other remained entwined with his own against the earth. Their bodies were once again pressed against each other, their faces only inches apart.
For a moment they were still and silent. Finally, Qui-Gon said quietly, "We mustn't do this."
"Do what?" Obi-Wan murmured, reaching up with his free hand to trace one fingertip down Qui-Gon's cheek. The older man had done that to him once, a gesture he cherished; apparently Qui-Gon remembered it as well. At the faint touch, Qui-Gon closed his eyes for a moment, and Obi-Wan could feel him shaking.
"This," Qui-Gon managed, his voice hoarse, as he met Obi-Wan's eyes again. "We are getting -- caught up in the moment --"
"I thought you wanted me to concentrate more on the moment." Obi-Wan brought his hand across the line of Qui-Gon's jaw, cupping it around the curve of his face.
"This isn't --"
"Here we are," Obi-Wan whispered, looking deeply into Qui-Gon's eyes. "In the moment. No future, no past, just here and now --"
And then Qui-Gon kissed him.
Obi-Wan had expected a slower surrender. Not this -- not the crushing embrace that enveloped him, not the punishing kiss that bruised his lips even as he returned it. He opened his mouth wider, letting Qui-Gon devour him with all the pent-up passion of the last months.
He brought his hands up to Qui-Gon's shoulders and ran them down his back, feeling the smooth muscles that had so tempted him earlier; then he moved lower still, pulling Qui-Gon fiercely into him, making him more aware of his Master's arousal. Of his own.
At the movement, Qui-Gon threw his head back, gasping even as he ground himself into the younger man's eager body. "I didn't mean for us -- oh," he groaned, as Obi-Wan began running the tip of his tongue down his throat. Then he pushed his Padawan back into the vines, capturing his mouth with his own yet again.
Obi-Wan had thought he remembered it all. Every line of Qui-Gon's body, every touch, every taste -- he'd run through his memories time and time again during the last two months, trying to relive their lovemaking. Those memories had been vivid enough to wake him from sleep, to make his body ache with need. But now they seemed like shadows -- they were nothing compared to the reality. No trick of the mind could ever come close to the feeling of Qui-Gon's body against his.
They tumbled over in the leaves until they lay side by side, giving their hands freedom to roam. Qui-Gon ran his fingers down Obi-Wan's chest, tracing lines of fire from his collarbone to his waist, then slipped his hands beneath the undershirt, repeating it all against the younger man's sweat-slick skin. All the while he continued kissing Obi-Wan, so hungrily that he was robbing them both of breath. For his part, Obi-Wan worked on getting the older man's long hair free of its binding; finally, it fell loose and he was able to bury his hands in it, as he drew his lover's face close to his own again. As they both panted for breath, Obi-Wan whispered, "Tell me what you want, Qui-Gon. Anything you want, anything you need, I'll give to you. Just tell me --"
Qui-Gon paused for a long moment, unsteady in Obi-Wan's arms. When he spoke again, his voice was uncertain. "If I told you -- that I needed you to be the strong one -- to walk away from this -- could you do it? Would you do it?"
Startled, Obi-Wan pulled back, and looked into Qui-Gon's eyes for the first time since their embraces began. He saw there none of the joy, the liberation, he had hoped to inspire in his Master. Instead, he saw only the same guilt, tortured by desire into something darker. Something painful.
Obi-Wan rolled away, breathing in hard, agonizing gulps. Behind him, he heard Qui-Gon sigh heavily, half in relief, half in anguish. After a moment, Obi-Wan pulled himself to his feet; although he was still shaky, and his body literally hurt from the pain of walking away, he managed to do it.
Obi-Wan grabbed up his jacket and belt, went to the site where he'd packed their gear, and picked up his half of it. Without a word, he began heading to the transport rendezvous; he knew that, when Qui-Gon was ready, he would join him.
He didn't look back
Tenth day once again. And once again, Obi-Wan was thinking of Qui-Gon -- but in an entirely different way than he had before. He felt as if a fever had broken, leaving him weak and unable, but clear-headed for the first time in far too long.
He and Qui-Gon had spoken briefly on the transport back to Coruscant, but no unnecessary words had passed between them then or since. If the silence between them continued, Obi-Wan would worry; however, for the time being, he accepted their mutual need for it. And meant to make use of his solitude to exercise his first rational thinking in months.
I could have done what I set out to do, he reminded himself. One more kiss, and we would have been beyond his control, or mine. Despite all Qui-Gon's resolutions, we would now be lovers again.
The thought did not fill him with frustrated excitement, but with a quiet shame.
I have been setting a man's heart against his conscience; that is ugly work. Beneath a Jedi, he told himself. Or anyone who claims to love someone more than he loves himself.
By reaching out to his Master in that way, Obi-Wan knew he had broken the fragile covenant between them -- and induced Qui-Gon to break it in turn. He could have made them lovers again, but at what cost? Qui-Gon's respect for his Padawan -- and possibly for himself, as well.
That price was too high. Obi-Wan knew that now, knew also that he had to love Qui-Gon enough to support his decision, even if he did not agree with that. He felt that he could do it -- but was he already too late? Had what happened between them already cost him his Master's respect?
"Of course not, Padawan," Qui-Gon's voice echoed in the meditation chamber. Obi-Wan turned to see him walking slowly toward him, the ghost of a smile on his face. "How could I condemn you for faults I share? What happened between us was the work of two people, not one."
Obi-Wan was relieved to hear that forgiveness, even if he was not yet sure he merited it. "I and I alone set out to undermine your decision, Qui-Gon. I must accept full responsibility for what happened."
"You must accept full responsibility for your part of it, and so must I. You set out to seduce me, and instead of stopping you right away as I should have, I let you try. Oh, don't look so surprised -- a man doesn't reach my age without recognizing seduction when he sees it."
After a moment, Obi-Wan's curiosity outweighed his embarrassment. "If you knew, why didn't you stop me?"
"I told myself it was to spare your feelings," Qui-Gon said. "That I would let you try, and when you failed, we could move on without having to discuss painful subjects again. But I was not being honest with myself. I was enjoying -- those moments between us, while telling myself that the motivation was yours alone. I should have realized that if I put us both in the way of temptation, sooner or later we would give in." He shook his head. "Behaving as I did caused you pain, Obi-Wan. And for that I am truly sorry."
"I apologize as well," Obi-Wan hastened to add. "I tried to make you abandon your decision, without addressing any of the concerns behind it. I won't do it again, I promise." He sounded painfully earnest, even to his own ears, and so went on to say, "I won't go throwing myself at you unless you ask me to."
To his surprise, Qui-Gon lowered his eyes; had he envisioned just such a scene?
This line of thought was cut off by his Master's next words. "We have chosen a difficult path, you and I. We have to support one another along that path -- each of us must make up for the other's weaknesses." He smiled ruefully. "You appear to be my weakness, Obi-Wan."
"I want to be your strength," Obi-Wan said quietly.
For a moment, Qui-Gon did not speak, but looked at his apprentice in silence. In his eyes, something flashed -- pride, perhaps. Or love. But when he spoke, his words were solemn. "Think first of being your own strength. As I must look to being mine. We must be able to stand independently, you and I. If we cannot, we cannot hope to stand together, not and be any good for each other. Not as Jedi, nor -- in any other way."
"I understand," Obi-Wan said. "But I wonder --"
"What?"
"Whether the two concepts are as separate as you believe them to be. Who we are as partners affects who we are as individuals, at least as much as the reverse. We work together, live together, think and act as one. This is what our position demands." Obi-Wan's voice grew quiet. "If our emotions now demand that we be closer still, how can we deny that?"
Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows as he smiled. "Now, Padawan, you're making some sense."
It couldn't be as easy as that, could it? "Master? You agree with me?"
"As far as that goes. But we are not denying what we feel. Only refusing to act on those feelings." Qui-Gon sighed as he paced around the circumference of the room. "Our working relationship has always been strong, Obi-Wan. We have had our troubles along the way, but we've weathered them. I believe we have a partnership many Masters and Padawans would envy. As for the other -- we also worked together rather well in that regard, if memory serves."
"Memory serves," Obi-Wan said quietly.
"I am your teacher. As such, it is my responsibility to see that you address yourself to your weaknesses, more than your strengths. For you, that remains your independence. Commit yourself to this, Obi-Wan. You cannot understand the value of self-reliance until you possess it. When that day comes, you'll understand."
"Of course, Master." Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, mocking his own reluctance, and was rewarded with a soft laugh. Qui-Gon touched his shoulder briefly before turning to go.
Just that one touch was enough to ignite Obi-Wan's desire again -- almost enough to make him abandon all his good intentions, to make him try to reach out to Qui-Gon once more.
But he held himself back, and rested once again on the meditation stone. His thoughts turned once more turned to the familiar saying -- but he finally understood its true meaning.
Each thing in its turn.