/ My Master is beautiful. A beautiful and noble man. /Obi-Wan Kenobi let the thought cross his mind as he stood in one of the Galactic Senate's meeting rooms. Such qualities had not gone unnoticed in the eight years he had served as Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan; indeed, he could recall countless occasions when more humble attributes caught his admiration. Today the thought came unbidden and accompanied by a flood of emotion that bubbled up and threatened to spill out in a great flood of tears. Pressing lips together and centering himself, Obi-Wan sniffled slightly and with an expression of schooled calmness, he observed Qui-Gon.
Their last mission had been a long and tiring affair. The Council had offered to let the team of Jinn and Kenobi return to Coruscant as soon as replacements could be dispatched, but Qui-Gon refused the option. He claimed that duty required them to see the mission through to the end, successful or otherwise. The Council frowned on his obdurance, but agreed to his demands in the end. And Obi-Wan? He of course agreed with Qui-Gon, for as padawan it was his honor and duty to remain at his master's side.
The assembled diplomats were learning from Qui-Gon how the Sacred Temples on Tarquin IX met with ruin, with some small details having been left out. Details that the politicians would consider minor, or more likely, unimportant. These elements, however, were responsible for the lines of fatigue around the Jedi Master's eyes, the tension in his shoulders, and the dull ache in his lower back. Qui-Gon was able to deflect the blaster bolts that he and Obi-Wan had encountered numerous times while on the planet, but insufficient rest and undue stress will affect anyone. Qui-Gon was weary, exhausted, and strained to the point of pain. None of this weariness did he betray willingly. Only his padawan could detect the subtle alteration.
Not by words or deeds did he reveal his condition to Obi-Wan. Normally both master and padawan were aware of each other's injury, illness or discomfort via the training bond. Today Obi-Wan had to read the minute differences in breath and movement to detect how Qui-Gon ached, for gentle shields had been raised by the master when his padawan had woken up that day with the symptoms of a serious head cold.
/ He takes the oath he made on Bandomeer very seriously and has done all he could to protect me, educate me, and guide me in the ways of the Force. /
Thoughts drifting fuzzily in his mind, Obi-Wan suppressed another yawn and pressed his nose into his fist. He had long since given up trying to concentrate on the meeting. The medicine Qui-Gon had administered to him had taken care of the some of sneezing and the sniffles, but his nose was stuffed and he could not seem to stay alert. Pondering how nobody even noticed his presence, Obi-Wan stepped further into the recesses of the room. The dark blue tapestry coving the walls created dusky, muted shadows as one moved away from the bright light over the central table. Semi-obscured, Obi-Wan cupped two hands over his nose and mouth and shivered.
"Uhuh, huh, hnchhn, hmnnchah, chmff! ehh, hshmp-ahh!" Swallowing and clearing his throat quietly, he leaned against the wall and dug out his handkerchief. A caress filtered over their bond as Qui-Gon glanced around to look at his apprentice.
// Padawan? Bless you. We are almost finished; come, stand with me. //
// Yes, Master. //
Obi-Wan had spent the three hour rest interval the Council had granted to them upon return to Coruscant curled up on Qui-Gon's bed napping. The first thing he had noticed upon waking was the soothing, repetitive stroking of gentle fingers through his hair. Yawning and raising eyes gritty with sleep, he then became painfully aware that a scratchy throat and runny nose had developed into a marvelous cold. When Obi-Wan had started sneezing, Qui-Gon quickly abandoned the data pad he was perusing to hold a handkerchief for his padawan. Rubbing his nose and pushing a tickle back, Obi-Wan recalled how patiently his master gave him a light antihistamine, settled his cloak on his shoulders, and with a hug promised that the meeting required his presence, but not participation. Since they left their quarters, a warm, comforting Force embrace surrounded the young man and shields ensured that no leakage across the bond subjected Obi-Wan to any of his master's discomfort.
The bubble of emotion bumped against his heart again. How much strength did Qui-Gon expend just to take care that his padawan did not suffer? Swallowing hard, Obi-Wan approached his master's side and blinked with surprise as Qui-Gon placed a hand on his back and drew him closer. A simple, subtle gesture, yet it took away the chill in the room that seeped into Obi-Wan's bones. After the final words, Obi-Wan watched as his master bowed a little more slowly than usual and walked toward the door a little less energetically than usual. Obi-Wan bowed, followed his master to the Senate docking bay, and turned to Qui-Gon as they entered the small air taxi. About to speak, his words were cut off as he felt the warm weight of Qui-Gon's hand on his shoulder.
"All right, Obi-Wan? I tried to make sure the discussion did not take long. Were you too sleepy? Or cold?" Qui-Gon looked at his padawan with concern, brows knit in worry.
"No, Master, I, uhh, I," Obi-Wan slowly raised his hand to his face and hesitated; his nose had started to tickle again and more strongly. His hand approached his nose as he inhaled with slow and shallow breaths, nostrils quivering slightly as the sneezes lingered a few seconds too long for comfort.
" Ahh, huhheshoo! Eshoo! HahhIssshhooo! Ahh, tishooo, tschooo!" Sniffing wetly and holding his palm to his nose Obi-Wan sat down under the guidance of his master's grip. The taxi lurched forward as he rubbed his nose and looked for the handkerchief.
"Blessings, once more, Padawan. Relax, you have a few minutes until we arrive at the Temple." Loosening his grip on Obi-Wan's shoulder, Qui-Gon slid his arm around the young man and sank into the seat. "Chancellor Valorum really must learn the art of the 'short, organizational meeting.'"
"Is the Senate sending another team to Tarquin? The situation is hopeless." Obi-Wan groused and shifted to adjust his robe. Raising his eyes, he noticed that Qui-Gon nodded an affirmative reply. "You sound about as tired as I feel, Master."
"Indeed?" Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow and frowned. "On the contrary, you sound three times worse than I do, plus you're becoming cranky. And your nose is running."
Muffling Obi-Wan's retort with a swipe of the handkerchief, Qui-Gon cleaned his apprentice's nose, then carefully wiped it to soothe the reddened skin.
// I am not cranky. They will not agree to the state religion. Stubborn and provincial. //
// Another nap wouldn't do you any harm, you must be tired then, instead of cranky. //
Grumbling, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and wondered how a man with so little sleep could be in such a good mood. A yawn escaped his mouth as he settled into the comforting embrace of his master and the heart tightening feeling warmed his chest again. His eyes flitted open to see a tiny smile grace Qui-Gon's lips; he felt that same smile echoed on his own mouth, immediately answering his question.
Once out of the air taxi and inside the Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan started to head for the masters' tower, happy to match Qui-Gon's slower pace. For once, he did not feel guilty as they stopped frequently in order for Obi-Wan to blow his nose; Qui-Gon would stand next to him, taking the time to rest himself. Upon re-entering their quarters, Obi-Wan touched Qui-Gon's arm to remove his master's robe, but drew his hand away instantly, accidentally pushing his master aside.
"Uhh, huheshoo! aheshoo! heehh, Ihshoo, iishishooo! Ishhhhaahh!" Sneezing freely and loudly into the palm of his hand, Obi-Wan raised his head a few inches after the fit and prepared for the next few sneezes to come. Dizzily stepping away from Qui-Gon (who easily took the hint and took off his own robe and belt), he hunched forward as his nose started up again.
"AhhhEshooo! Ehh, ihhAchoo! Eehisshhoo!" Sniffles came fast on the heels of Obi-Wan's sneezing fit, forcing him to clumsily hunt for his handkerchief as he rubbed his nose into the sleeve of his robe. The very same robe that Qui-Gon carefully and quickly was easing off his shoulders.
"Blessings, Padawan. Here, let's get you out of this first." Qui-Gon hung up his apprentice's robe and let Obi-Wan finish blowing his nose before he removed Obi-Wan's belt and saber and then sat the young man down on the couch.
"Thank you, Master. Oh, my nose, not again." Obi-Wan gasped miserably and sneezed quickly into his handkerchief. "Ahhishhoo! Ishooo! Huhhishoo!"
"Bless you, again. You held those sneezes back for too long a time during the meeting, Obi-Wan." Grasping the armrest of the couch, Qui-Gon sat down by his apprentice and let out his breath in a long, low sigh. He rested his head against the seat cushion for a few moments before addressing Obi-Wan once more. Taking in his padawan's glassy eyes and pink nose, he appeared to quickly forget his own weariness.
"Such a cold you've caught, my Padawan. I sometimes think you ought to have a master who doesn't insist on dragging their padawan across the galaxy in chilly, damp spacecraft." The Jedi Master chuckled softly as Obi-Wan leaned his head on his shoulder and yawned.
"I get sick in the Temple, too." Obi-Wan replied between sniffles. Snuggling closer as Qui-Gon pulled him into an embrace and stroked his cheek, Obi-Wan felt his eyes drift shut. He could not recall a time when he felt so safe or so warm than when he was held either in the arms or in the Force aura of his master. He began to aimlessly pet Qui-Gon's leg and mused. The comfort of Qui-Gon's touch was as familiar as the sunshine of noonday or the taste of his favorite tea. But tonight it felt almost different as the bubble of emotion started to swell and overwhelm him again. Qui-Gon always took care of his runny nose and sneezes and whatever aches and complaints he had.
"Master, how do you feel?" Suddenly snapping his head up Obi-Wan looked at the features of his master's face, slack with fatigue and unvoiced weariness.
"Hush, Obi-Wan, I'm fine." Qui-Gon gently pushed Obi-Wan's head back down and kissed the soft, auburn hair. He kissed the young man again after Obi-Wan coughed weakly. "I just need some rest, as do you, Padawan. I want you to change, take your medicine and then sleep."
"Master," Obi-Wan pressed the knuckle of his index finger to his nostrils to hold back the itchy feeling there before he could finish his sentence. "You need that backache taken care of, Master, I can give you a rubdown."
Qui-Gon dropped his gaze as the young man struggled not to sneeze. Obi-Wan's breath hitched quietly as his body jerked forward, his index finger still resting under his nose.
"Unhhh, ehh, hehkishooo! Huheshoo! Ehhschuh!" Crinkling his nose and sniffing back the tickles Obi-Wan finally got rid of the last of the sneezes and began his exercise in futility anew.
"Master Qui-Gon, I will take care of you." Obi-Wan cleared his throat and pretended he did not notice how much more congested he sounded after his sneezing fits. A light touch on his hand drew his attention to his master's eyes.
"Perhaps later, Obi-Wan. Now you will rest and take care of that cold. Please, at least so I won't worry about you?" Qui-Gon's fingertips sketched fine, tingling lines over his padawan's hand and wrist as his voice lowered and softened with anxiety.
"Yes, Master."
Pushing down his refusal with the other swirling emotions that he felt, Obi-Wan clasped his master's hand and gazed at Qui-Gon. The older man smiled at him and squeezed his hand. Obi-Wan grinned, wondered if perhaps his illness was affecting his mind, as he could almost swear that Qui-Gon felt the little difference that made this touching different from all previous ones. Obi-Wan got up off the couch and shook his head to clear away the funny, congestion induced haze he was slipping into away. As he walked to his bedchamber, he smiled, then turned and bowed his head slightly.
// Master? Qui-Gon, I would never want anyone else for my master, no matter what happens. //
// Aretos, I know. //
Deciding a bath would lead him to sleep, he headed for the 'fresher after changing in his room. Slipping into hot water and surrounded by steam, Obi-Wan watched the wisps of air twist, turn and float away. The steam tickled his nose and gave him the sniffles, teasing his sensitive nostrils. Lazily wiping his nose in a spare handkerchief, he considered the term of affection Qui-Gon used for him. Memory licked at the edges of his mind as the steam curled around him, the first and only time he heard Qui-Gon say the word. Aretos.
- - - - -
"Obi-Wan! Don't go yet, wait a minute, hey, Obi-Wan?"
Turning around to face the young man who called out to him, Obi-Wan stopped his walk down the Temple hallway. A rainy weekend on the forest moon of Salvestra and a few hours on an icy cold cruiser had transformed the thirteen-year-old padawan into a soggy, shivering, cranky mess.
"Terenth, what it is?" The words came out more clipped than Obi-Wan had intended, yet he found it hard to remain patient. He looked up at the senior padawan and rubbed his forehead with the sleeve of his cloak.
"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, about the shelter, I had no idea it would rain so much on Salvestra." As senior padawan, Terenth had assisted his master with the training exercise, but had managed to get the weather prognostication woefully wrong. "Do you need me to take you to the Healing Dome? You look a little pale." Shuffling his feet nervously Terenth regarded Obi-Wan with an apologetic and guilty demeanor.
"Thanks, Ter," Obi-Wan immediately relented his sharp tone and touched the older padawan's sleeve with gratitude. "But I'll be fine, really, just a sore throat and stuffed up nose. I should get back to my quarters, though."
Terenth, still looking worried, tugged his braid and was silent for a moment. Kenobi's master would have something to say about the boy coming home with a grave cold in the head. The younger padawan's appearance boasted of more than a pale complexion. Obi-Wan's eyes were a watery, blood-shot gray-blue, with dark circles starting to form underneath. The boy's small nose was very pink compared to the rest of his face and looked like he was about to start sneezing given the opportunity. If he could see that Obi-Wan was cold, tired and very sick, surely Master Jinn would, too. He could not, however, blame Terenth if the boy refused to see a healer.
"Yes, do go home, Obi-Wan. Farewell. And feel better." With a slight bow and a clap to Obi-Wan's shoulder the senior padawan said goodbye before turning in the direction of his own quarters.
Alone again, Obi-Wan trudged toward the lift to the Masters' towers, where the Jinn/Kenobi quarters were located. His travel pack became decidedly heavier with each step and his sinuses became increasingly congested with each breath. Obi-Wan had no desire for Terenth to think that he couldn't handle a simple survival training exercise; admitting how weak and ill he felt would be a poor showing indeed for Master Jinn's new padawan.
Once in the lift Obi-Wan sniffled strongly and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his damp robe. Mentally he reviewed the path from the lift doors to those of the rooms he shared with Master Qui-Gon. Even after a month everything felt new and strange: the haircut, the different living arrangements, the bump of a lightsaber against his thigh and that curious gleam in his mind - but that was wonderful strange, a training bond that grew steadily since he and Qui-Gon were brought together on Bandomeer. He had put every fiber of his being into believing in that bond and in the Force until Qui-Gon finally took him on and he was now determined to prove his worth as padawan to such a great knight.
Opening tired eyes after a deep yawn, Obi-Wan exited the lift and headed for his doorway. A few steps from his quarters he halted and sniffed delicately. Without a handkerchief or tissue, he felt obliged to stifle the sneezes he felt coming and to do so before entering his rooms. He could not walk in a sneezy, sniffly mess. Obi-wan pulled his hand up into the sleeve of his robe and hurriedly covered his nose. Brow furrowed he forced the build up of his sneezes to remain silent, save the whisper quiet gasp of breath that heralded the start of the fit.
"huh, hmpchsh! hunnchh!" Slim shoulders tensed as he forced each sneeze back, his head bobbing forward as the climax of the sneeze was cut off and the pressure increased in his sinuses. "Hnnkhah! hmpch, nghhchishh! ahhh, ohh, oh, that hurt."
Certain the sneezes were finished the boy held the soggy sleeve to his nose and whimpered a little at the increase in sinus pain the pressure caused. Obi-Wan coughed and sniffled, trying to clear his nose and throat. Satisfied with what he hoped was a normal appearance Obi-Wan straightened his robe and tunics and wiped his eyes and nose before palming open the door to his quarters.
As the door slid open Qui-Gon looked up from his book. His padawan looked distinctly wet, cold and unhappy; the boy was also obviously ill, with his red-rimmed teary eyes, an irritated nose and a pale complexion. Obi-Wan silently walked over to the couch and sat down next to his master.
"Welcome home, Padawan. How did you fair in the forests of Salvestra?" The attempted brightness faded from his voice as the rumpled boy slid onto the couch. Qui-Gon handed Obi-Wan his half-full mug of tea and gave the boy a quick embrace. The feel of damp clothing against his own skin sent an uncomfortable pang of worry through his stomach, he was positive that wetness was part of the cause for the little cough and congested sniffle he just heard. Grimness entered his voice as he watched the boy try to smile. "Did you spend the whole trip this damp, Obi-Wan?"
"Thank you, Master." Drinking the hot beverage Obi-Wan let the warmth spread through his chest and stomach and take the edge of the chill in his bones. He handed the mug to his master and rubbed his eyes. "No, actually, this is pretty dry compared to earlier this weekend." One boot thumped to the floor, followed by a second. "I survived, though, you have to admit, Master, so I suppose the exercise was a success." Quelling the urge to add 'just barely' to his comment, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and leaned his head back.
The heavy dampness of his clothing made Obi-Wan's skin feel cold and clammy. His head pounded, his nose itched and was running a bit, the painful tickle in his throat urged him to cough and soon enough he had to yield to a coughing fit. Breathless and sore of throat, he quieted down and felt a wave of warmth comfort him and lull him into a state of sleepy oblivion. His eyes opened reluctantly when Qui-Gon's hand cupped his cheek and turned his head. Gray-blue eyes blearily gazed at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan willed his body to sit upright.
"Padawan?" Qui-Gon carefully felt the boy's cheek and forehead, worried that the warmth he felt was due to fever. Obi-Wan, however, pulled back at the sound of that word. He was a padawan and padawans did not sit around whining because of the sniffles.
"I'm sorry, Master. I shall go unpack," Obi-Wan spoke desperately and stood up from the couch, a tad unsteadily, and reached for his boots, "And then begin to prepare evening meal."
"I'll prepare dinner, Obi-Wan. You ought to take a hot shower and relax some." Qui-Gon's words offered no chance for debate.
"Yes, Master, I, uhh, ehh," Obi-Wan suddenly paused, his jaw dropped and the crease between his brows deepened, "Huhhh, ishooh! Itschoo! Kehh tishoo!"
"Blessings, Padawan. Go, please, get warm." A smile lighting his eyes, Qui-Gon patted his padawan's leg and stood. Stooping over, he tugged the short braid that almost reached Obi-Wan's shoulder and gave the boy a look that conveyed sympathy but commanded obedience.
"Yes, Master." Coughing lightly Obi-Wan slumped back down into the corner of the couch as his master rose and went to the kitchen. If it were not for that dampness, which he noticed had permeated his socks and underclothing, he could have spent all evening there. Obi-Wan's eyelids automatically drooped, the armrest felt so soft compared to the rock-hard floor in the transport that he had napped on that afternoon. Sleepily nestling into the couch, he groaned impatiently as the tickle he tried to push back started to build.
"Uhhh, huhhn-hunnsch! ahh, Ishooo!" Despite his efforts, lips pressed together, jaws clenched and tongue planted firmly at the roof of his mouth, the sneezes tumbled him forward. "Tishhh! Ah, ehh, Achoo! Eschoo! UhIshoo! Ahishh, ehshoo, eheheeshoo!"
Still feeling sneezy, but relieved, Obi-Wan dropped his head onto the armrest. If he breathed just the right way, his nose almost didn't run and his sinuses didn't hurt quite as much. He was getting close to comfortable.
"Padawan!" Qui-Gon's shout ripped through the haze of Obi-Wan's drowse-induced state. Awake, alert, and guilty he rose and scrambled into the kitchen, slipping in his stocking feet.
"I'm so sorry, Master, I'll help you, I just closed my eyes for a few minutes." Cursing himself for what was either weakness or stupidity, Obi-Wan lowered his eyes and turned to get dishes from the cupboard.
"No, Obi-Wan." Concern crept into Qui-Gon's words and deeds when he saw guilt flash across the boy's features. He reached for the cabinet door Obi-Wan had opened, shut it gently and covered his padawan's hand with his own. "You misunderstand me, Padawan. I shall take care of dinner."
"Master?" Obi-Wan gulped. Two large hands pulled the cloak from his shoulders. When Qui-Gon faced him it was not blame, as he expected, but worry that darkened his master's eyes.
"Padawan, a shower, make that a sonic shower, some warm clothes, then come join me for evening meal. You sound like you're coming down with something, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon used a firm, but caring tone of voice on the boy. He folded the sodden cloak, draped it over the counter and reminded himself to talk to the knight who had been in charge of the exercise.
"My nose started running on the transport after a couple of sneezes. I'll be fine, Master." Obi-Wan's nose scrunched up as he sniffled. Qui-Gon was rather upset, if the pressing of lips and quick nodding of his head were any sort of indication.
Stocking feet slid from slick tile to carpet, padded across the common room with small steps and into a dark bedchamber, toes curling around the thick pile. Obi-Wan stopped by his bed, flicked on a light, and reached for a tissue from the small table nearby. Did he get the sniffles that often that Qui-Gon saw it fit to keep a steady supply for him?
He blew his nose thoroughly, stopping twice to sneeze in the process. The last sneeze brought with it a feeling of congestion, deep in his sinuses. Taking a clean tissue he wiped his nose and then simply rubbed the slightly abrasive paper over his whole nose. He was feeling very stuffy, a soft sniffle confirmed how blocked up his nasal passages had become.
Qui-Gon had not seen him in the throes of a full-blown head cold yet, but it seemed that the time had finally come. Perhaps his master would let him suffer alone, not make him go to saber practice, but at the same time not treat him like a burden. If he could just curl up and sleep, not bother anyone, he would be fine. Obi-Wan had learned to take care of himself in the initiates' dormitory, he knew not to expect much more than a dose of cold syrup or a visit to the healer if he had a temperature and a day to rest. Once out of the cr�che, initiates were not given much in the way of physical affection or comfort.
Obi-Wan's wet clothing was giving him the chills, despite the warmth of the rooms. Keeping quiet, he took off his belt, outer tunics and stockings. He would have preferred sleep to anything else, but Qui-Gon had practically commanded him to take that shower. A sleep tunic and pants would suffice as warm clothing; he made his way to the 'fresher carrying the small pile of garments.
Having had a very fast and hot sonic shower, Obi-Wan dressed, rebraided his hair and looked in the reflector glass. His braid was sloppy looking and a little frayed, but he could not quite get it right, especially with his nose itching every few seconds. Walking back into his room, he debated bringing the tissues to the dinner table. With a shrug he left the box there and went to the table rubbing his nose in the sleeve of his tunic. His master waited for him, holding a mug and blanket.
"Now, Obi-Wan, here, drink this." Qui-Gon placed a mug of steaming liquid before his padawan after Obi-Wan folded himself onto the seat cushion with a badly hidden yawn.
"What is it?" Obi-Wan sniffed at the steam, the tip of his nose quivering and running again.
"Just tea, mild herbal tea with honey. Are you warm enough, padawan?" Resting a hand on Obi-Wan's back, Qui-Gon placed a handkerchief at the boy's elbow. "Use this for your nose." Grinning, Qui-Gon tapped Obi-Wan on the tip of his nose and then turned to go get dinner. The blanket rested by his seat cushion, neatly folded.
Obi-Wan stared ahead blankly and shook his head. Qui-Gon worried an awful lot about how cold he was, it appeared. Sipping the tea tentatively he was surprised how easily it slid down his throat. Warm and sweet, like a hug. A case of the tickles forced him to put down the mug and grip the edge of the table in anticipation. Recalling the handkerchief, Obi-Wan picked it up hastily and pressed it to his nose.
"Huhhishoo! Ehhtshooo, hihhihsoo! Ehishhah, eshoo! ehh, hishhhoo!" Obi-Wan held his breath and pinched the end of his nose through the handkerchief; three tiny, stifled sneezes shook his shoulders before he could trust himself to inhale again. The sneezes had clogged his nose again and left it feeling warm and itchy. Blowing to clear his nose and get rid of the itch, he tried to be as quiet as possible and not annoy Qui-Gon with his cold symptoms.
Entering the room, Qui-Gon blessed his padawan and walked over to the table carrying two dishes. Steamed vegetables and rice made due as a fast dinner. Qui-Gon set the plates down and sat on a seat cushion next to Obi-Wan at the low table. Eating peacefully, the two Jedi talked little during the meal.
Obi-Wan pushed his food around the dish after he had eaten as much as he could. Swallowing was painful and he was not exactly hungry to begin with. With a sniffle he put his fork down and picked up the crumpled handkerchief. The material felt soft and dry against his nose, which had been running all during dinner. Breathing in lightly, he prepared for the sneezes, head lifting with each breath. If he could just get the tickle to work it's way into a sneeze a little faster
"uhhh, hehh, ehhihhaa, ahh, ahishoo! ohhh, huhishhoo! heshahh! ahh, IhhhChoo! ahhmm, heeKitshoo!" Head now bowed and elbows clasped to his sides, Obi-Wan felt a slight shudder run through his frame. Blowing his nose until his ears almost hurt, he felt his eyes get watery and when he looked up he knew he looked abjectly miserable if he appeared half as sick as he felt.
"Bless you, Padawan, that's quite a case of the sneezes you've caught. Come here." Qui-Gon smiled sympathetically and held his arm out to the boy seated next to him. Obi-Wan snuffled and blinked his eyes, confused by the gesture, but finally let his master put an arm around him.
"Thank you, again, Master." Obi-Wan muttered, his voice harsher and deeper from his illness. He leaned closer to the inviting embrace Qui-Gon offered, instinctively seeking the comfort. A small mental sigh traveled across their bond as Qui-Gon tightened the hug.
"Would you like to watch a holo-vid tonight? You can rest on the couch, or would you just like to go to bed, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon inquired, finishing his dinner as Obi-Wan settled down and drank his lukewarm tea. All of a sudden, Obi-Wan tensed up and pulled away, mentally and physically.
"Uhhm, oh, ahem, I have to study my Ancient Languages for a translation tomorrow, Master." The thought of studying with a muddled head made Obi-Wan groan inwardly. He had nearly forgotten about the translation; the subject was already a difficult one for him and he could not afford to do badly in the exams. Besides, Qui-Gon surely did not want to spend the evening listening to him sneeze, cough and blow his nose repeatedly while watching a holovid. Even if the idea of snuggling under a warm blanket with someone to take care of him sounded nice, he just could not do it. Maybe he would get a hug before bed, he would be happy with a hug.
"Study? Are you quite sure, Obi-Wan? I really do not think you should, you need rest. Obi-Wan, how bad do you feel?" The master let his arm drop from his padawan's side and steepled his hands in front of his face, his head turned toward the boy.
"Master, the exam is pretty important, I need to do well. I'm just a little sick, nothing too bad, as I told you, Master." Obi-Wan swallowed down the pain in his throat and the tightness in his chest. Qui-Gon could look up his medical record anytime, no need to alert the man right now of his propensity to fall ill on transport shuttles or of the sinus trouble he suffered from.
"All right, Obi-Wan." With a sigh of momentary resignation Qui-Gon leaned his forehead on his fingertips. "Go look over your notes and then get some sleep, I see I can't argue with you tonight."
Obi-Wan slid out of his seat at the table, placed his half-eaten dinner in the recycler and left a rather worried, perplexed Qui-Gon in the kitchen. Once in his bedchamber, Obi-Wan flopped on the bed and miserably rubbed his eyes. They felt hot, itchy, and puffy from all the sneezing. Thinking about being sick made him feel even more desolate, however. He did not mean to catch cold and he did not want to fail languages, thus he would disappoint his master twofold. Perhaps the others were correct, perhaps he was not fit to be a padawan. Obi-Wan could not get through a simple training exercise or pass level one languages, obviously. Not fit to be a padawan and certainly not fit to be apprenticed to Qui-Gon Jinn.
Master Qui-Gon had given him a hug at the table. A wave of comfort tingled inside his belly for a second as he remembered the gesture of affection. Qui-Gon had made him feel safe and warm and their bond told him he was loved, almost like when the cr�che master Obi-Wan groaned and cursed his silly and childish needs. Qui-Gon was not a babysitter, he was a Jedi Knight. And Obi-Wan had worked so hard to earn his place at that knight's side, he was not about to lose it just to avoid feeling the lonely desolation that being cold and ill made him feel.
A hard lump settled in the pit of his stomach and Obi-Wan wearily curled up on his side, pressing his cheek into the pillow. The warmth he had felt moments ago evaded him as the memories of past illnesses swarmed in his mind. He could recall the cr�che master holding him or stroking his hair, but those memories were fuzzy at best. He hated being sick, he hated how it made him feel awkward and unwanted. He hated the cold dormitories and the nauseating medicine and the Healing dome. Huddling up closer to the pillows, Obi-Wan attempted to generate enough body heat to keep comfortable without having to move to pull up the blankets. A delicate shiver crawled down his spine and he could feel the distinct beginnings of a sneezing fit start to invade his nose. He tried sniffling, but the increased congestion prevented anything from happening. Obi-Wan untucked one hand and rubbed his nose in a circular pattern with the back of his hand. The feeling was somewhat nice, his nose did itch all over, but the sneezes would not go away. Cupping his hand over his nose and mouth, the sneezing started almost immediately.
"eh, HehTisshooo! Ishoo! Eshoo, shoo, ishoo!!" Hand already damp from the sneezes, Obi-Wan wiped it on his trouser leg and tried to reach for the tissues. The sneezes did not back away and he fumbled for the box, eyes closed and body trembling as the fit continued. "Ishoo! Ahh, hehh, ahhchoo! Huhushoo!"
When the tickles finally calmed down and he could open his eyes, Obi-Wan pulled the box toward him and sighed. With a rumpled handful of tissues clenched in his hand, Obi-Wan blew his nose. He chucked the tissues on the floor with a weary gesture and gingerly laid his head back down. Fingering the bridge of his nose he snorted a little and sniffled back the funny tickling that had had caused. The stuffiness was worse as his sinuses flooded and started to increase from dull ache to real hurting. The pain in his sinuses finally won out, he uncurled his body, and shivered at the loss of the little warmth he had created. Obi-Wan forced himself to sit up and focus. Vaguely alert he pulled his data pad and lightslate onto the bed. He rubbed his face and stared at the words. The test was important.
For about a standard hour Obi-Wan tried to study. His eyelids kept dragging shut, sleep hovering at the corners of his consciousness. But something would inevitable jar him into wakefulness - the dry tickle in his throat would make him cough, or the tingling, constant itch in his nose would send him sneezing repeatedly or, worst of all, the heartsick coldness would creep into his stomach at the thought of being not good enough.
Soon the words began to swim before his eyes and he clumsily dropped his light pen onto the blankets. None of the poetry made sense to Obi-Wan, he could not understand how anyone could like this stuff if it was so impossible to read. He would sleep, if he could, but even that was taken from him by the multitude of cold symptoms. Frustrated, grumpy, and miserable he picked up the river stone that lay next to the box of tissues. Softly running his fingers over the smooth surface he let some of the rock's force aura and warmth fill him. Reminded of Qui-Gon's smile and kind eyes he carefully replaced the river stone. Shoving the data pad under his arm and grabbing the box of tissues, Obi-Wan woozily walked into the common area.
He approached the couch slowly, stepping carefully in the dimly lit room. Qui-Gon sat on the couch clad in sleep clothes and a robe, an expression of serenity smoothing his features as he drifted in a light meditative trance. Shivering, Obi-Wan carefully sat down next to his master and closed his eyes. Concentrating deeply, he reached out over their training bond and touched his master's mind. For a brief moment Obi-Wan thought he might be disturbing Qui-Gon. Then a quicksilver gleaming illuminated the bond, love, acceptance, comfort and the need to care pulsing between them. With a gasp of realization Obi-Wan dropped his data pad and wrapped his arms around Qui-Gon's chest.
"Oh, my Obi-Wan, whatever is wrong?" Qui-Gon maneuvered so that the slim body rested on his lap. He kissed the boy's forehead and wiped the hot tears that coursed down Obi-Wan's cheeks. Tracing the line between his padawan's brows down the tip of his nose to the cleft in his chin, he waited for the crying to cease.
"I didn't know, Master, I didn't know and I love you too I just didn't know." A tiny, stuffy sounding voice came from the direction of his chest as Obi-Wan buried his face in his master's robe. Overcome with relief and congestion, Obi-Wan started to cough as quiet sobs choked his throat.
"Shhh, calm down, yes you did, my Padawan, you did know, long before I did." Lifting the tear-streaked face, Qui-Gon took a tissue and started to wipe his apprentice's eyes and nose. "We are bound together by the Force. I know you feel it. In addition, part of that bond is taking care of each other, all right? It is the fate of a Jedi to lead a hard life, but not one without comfort or care, Padawan."
Obi-Wan nodded slowly and hiccoughed. His master would take care of him, better than the cr�che master and better than he could on his own. Blowing his nose into tissues Qui-Gon held up to his face, Obi-Wan finally relaxed. He settled himself on Qui-Gon's lap and thankfully snuggled into the warm blanket and embrace his master offered. Obi-Wan honestly did not think he would fit in his master's lap, but he was wrong, he fit just fine.
"Now, Obi-Wan, tell me," Qui-Gon spoke soothingly and rubbed his padawan's back, "how do you feel? More than a little sick, yes?"
"Master, I don't feel so good, I can't breath right and my nose is all sneezy and my head aches." Obi-Wan clamped his mouth shut before any more words could tumble out. He wanted to say how much he craved the affection his master seemed to offer and how anything was better than being sick and alone. A firm hand was planted on his chest and he could feel Qui-Gon slip a tendril of the Force over their bond.
"You'll need to see a healer in the morning, Obi-Wan." With a sigh, Qui-Gon removed his hand from his padawan's chest. A slight cringe stabbed Obi-Wan in the stomach and he looked with pleading eyes at his master. "Obi-Wan, you must. Now, hush, I will go with you. You won't be alone anymore, my Aretos."
Nestling into Qui-Gon's chest, Obi-Wan sniffled loudly and then mumbled, "My Master?"
"The Force has named you my Aretos, my hope, the light that dispelled the shadows of the past," pausing, Qui-Gon stroked the sleepy face that rested on his chest and shook his head. He couldn't expect even a healthy thirteen-year-old to quite understand all that. "I am so proud to have you as padawan, Obi-Wan, and I care for you very much. We make a good team, Obi-Wan."
"Think it means I'll take care of you, Master? Like this?" Speaking around a huge yawn Obi-Wan questioned his master. A reassuring feeling inside told him that he would understand the word eventually.
"Yes, Obi-Wan, I think it does, I think it does. Rest now, my padawan, I'll be here for you." Qui-Gon stroked the shoulders and back of his padawan as the boy started to drift off. Picking up the data pad that Obi-Wan had brought in with him, he looked through the lesson of poetry. Content to read while Obi-Wan napped, Qui-Gon gave his padawan a soft kiss and bade him sleep well.
- - - - - -
Roused from memory, Obi-Wan opened lazy eyes and smiled. Perhaps the meaning had changed, and yet it remained the same. Qui-Gon had cared for him as a boy and loved him as a padawan. He loved his master as only a padawan could and that love had grown subtly. The bubble burst. He loved Qui-Gon, loved him as only one man could love another, a strange and comfortable feeling. Obi-Wan was ready to take on all that Qui-Gon had suffered and share it with him.
The bath water had long since turned lukewarm and the steam had turned to droplets of condensation that traced racing paths down the walls and glass. Obi-Wan could feel the congestion starting to block his nose up again. He sniffed and then coughed, unable to breathe through his nose. Stepping from the tub into the cooler air Obi-Wan shivered and scrubbed his body dry in a hurry. A glance in the reflector glass emphasized that he looked as bad as he thought he did. His eyes had a dazed, glassy look, while his nose was starting to look pinked and irritated. He looked sick and dopey.
/How romantic, a sneezing, sniffling mess you are, Kenobi. What a moment to live in, oh, but Qui-Gon! I do not think I could wait any more. /
With towel wrapped around waist and handkerchief pressed to nose, Obi-Wan walked to his bedchamber and blew his nose. Stepping into light sleep pants and drying off his hair, he concentrated on staying awake long enough to talk to his master. Maybe Qui-Gon had known all these years, or known and waited, or hoped and waited? Maybe Obi-Wan himself had known? No, the thoughts were getting confused even in his mind, he was only a boy then. Suddenly, a new thought crossed his mind as he pushed the towel down the laundry chute. Maybe Qui-Gon did not know at all, maybe Obi-Wan had not felt anything at all. Grunting to clear his throat, he pushed that thought aside as well, he DID feel something when they touched today.
A sigh slipped from his lips as he picked up the comb from the bedside table. Obi-Wan started to redo his braid, nose running and tickling again. Rubbing his nose into his shoulder, he pushed back the tingling sensation for a few seconds. His nose scrunched up in exasperation as his hands trembled and fingers fumbled. Grabbing a few tissues, he blew his nose in an effort to get rid of the itchiness. With a groan, he scrubbed at his nostrils, then whimpered when he realized how sore his nose was getting.
Obi-Wan started again, rebraiding quickly, trying to beat out the sneezes. However, before he was half way done, his breath froze and eyes squinted shut, hands still clutching the lock of hair.
"h, heh, ahehhh, heehhIshoo! Uhhhishoo! Tshooahh! Brow creased in concentration, he panted and let his mouth hang open. Obi-Wan dropped his hands to his side and waited, exhaling slowly. "Ahhh, hischoo! Ehuschooh! heeeyesshhhh!!" Stepping backward, he clumsily sat on the bed and let his head clear. Runny nose and teary eyes necessitated the use of a handful of tissues. A small pile grew next to him as Obi-Wan cleared out some of the congestion. Pushing the used tissues onto the floor he sighed and rested his fore head against the palm of one hand.
The yellow light that spilled in from the common area flickered briefly and then returned as soft footfalls neared Obi-Wan. The clatter of a bottle and spoon on the night table drew Obi-Wan's eyes to the robed figure. The bed creaked as another body settled on it and strong fingers massaged the back of his neck.
"Your sinuses are bothering you?" Qui-Gon asked quietly as he untangled the half-done braid. Obi-Wan nodded in answer and pressed two fingers to his brow. Plaiting the silky clean lock of hair Qui-Gon exhaled loudly, his breath hitting Obi-Wan's neck, as pain twinged in his lower back.
"Master?" The unsteady wobbling of shields allowed the sensation to leak over their bond. A trace of fear laced Obi-Wan's reaction and he reached for his master's hand.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't stop it." Wincing and pushing stronger shields up, Qui-Gon tied off Obi-Wan's braid and then slid the long length of hair between his thumb and index finger. The end of the braid brushed against Obi-Wan's chest and Qui-Gon's hand came to rest there as he let the hair fall from his hand. "I wouldn't have you feel that, Obi-Wan, I am sorry."
"You know I care for you, Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan swallowed with difficulty, emotion and illness coloring his words. A harsh cough tore at his chest and he turned away, but not before a flash of warmth brought his eyes to Qui-Gon's.
"I know, my Obi-Wan." Brushing the back of his hand over the smooth skin in the center of Obi-Wan's chest Qui-Gon quieted the cough. Rising stiffly from the bed, he brought his hand to Obi-Wan's face and ran his thumb over the young man's chin. "Get some sleep. I more than know, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan watched as his master walked from the small bedchamber to his own room. The arguments and declarations of love died on his lips before Obi-Wan could halt his master's departure. His eyes remained fixed on the path Qui-Gon had tread for a long time. Turning to his bed Obi-Wan gnawed his lip and thought. He then patted the bed, smiled, and grabbed his pillow. Getting up off the bed he shrugged his shoulders and flicked off the lights. As an afterthought, he took up the medicine and spoon.
His master sat on his bed with his sleep tunic open and a data-pad propped on one sleep trouser clad leg. Obi-Wan stepped softly, pillow clutched to his chest, not venturing to utter a word, even as Qui-Gon's eyes questioned him. Rubbing his nose in the pillow and preventing an immediate tickle, Obi-Wan stood by the bed. Offering the cold syrup and spoon to his master, he smiled rather hopefully. As he accepted the bottle and spoon, Qui-Gon's forehead creased in consternation.
"I, well," hesitating as the tickle continued to annoy his nose, Obi-Wan brought his head to a raised shoulder and resolutely rubbed the tip of his nose. Now agitated thoroughly, his nose started to run and itch in a way that made his eyes water and nostrils flare. Involuntarily hugging the pillow for support, he let go, his head still bent toward his shoulder. "Heeyisshooo! Ishoo! Huhh, ahhishhoo! Ehhahshsoo! Ishhahh! ahh, hhhuuunn, nehishoo!!"
Now embarrassed and sniffling madly, Obi-Wan slumped onto the bed as Qui-Gon padded over to the clothing press and took out a handful of clean handkerchiefs. Dropping all but one on Obi-Wan's lap, he held a handkerchief to his padawan's nose and patiently waited until Obi-Wan was finished. He then slid the pillow from Obi-Wan's arms and placed it behind them. With a definitively cute sniff, Obi-Wan looked at his master, cleared his throat and then touched Qui-Gon's knuckles.
// I was lonely. //
// We just spent weeks together - oh, Obi-Wan, lonely? //
Obi-Wan's hand shook as a chill shivered through his body, cold and anticipation, illness and hope. A soft kiss brushed his lips, sudden and quick, but full of promise. Qui-Gon then chuckled and reached for the cold serum and administered two sickeningly sweet and thick spoonfuls to Obi-Wan. With a wondering look, Obi-Wan took the medicine, then sighed as Qui-Gon slid his own sleep tunic onto his padawan's body.
// Are you sure, Aretos? If I let my shields down, it may be too much while you're sick. //
// Yes, Qui-Gon, I want to feel what you feel. I want to care for you, not just be cared for by you. You cannot tell me this is just a training bond. //
"My Aretos, my Aretos." Stroking the soft hair and sweet skin, Qui-Gon let his shields fall. Wincing, Obi-Wan gasped, smiled and placed his hand on Qui-Gon's lower back.
"We rest now, my bondmate." Obi-Wan led Qui-Gon down, until they both reclined, fingers and minds entwined.
They lay together, in silence and darkness something new, yet familiar between them. Something Obi-Wan was sure he could recall feeling every day, but on no day specifically. Maybe it started five years ago or ten years ago or ten hundred years ago or maybe every bonded couple had felt what he felt and he would feel it for ten hundred years to come.
// You will stay here tonight? Here with me, Obi-Wan? //
// Every night, Qui-Gon. Besides, where else would I go? //
// Indeed, where else. //
finis LOVER LAY DOWN
~Dave Matthews Band
Spring sweet rhythm dance in my head
Slip into my lover's hands
Kiss me oh won't you kiss me now
And sleep I would inside your mouth
Don't be us too shy
Knowing is no big surprise
That I will wait for you
I will wait for no one but you
Look please lover lay down
Spend this time with me
Together share this smile
Lover lay down
Walk with me, walk with you
Hold my hands your hands
So much we have dreamed
And you were so much younger
Hard to explain that we are stronger
A million reasons life to deny
Let's toss them away
See you and me we
Lay down look see
She and he
By my lover's side
Together share this smile
Each other's tears to cry
Together share this smile
Lover lay down
Oh please
Look please lover lay down
Oh please lover lay down
And you weep
Lover lay down
Cause it's over
Lover lay down
Say lover, say lover, say lover, say lover, say lover
Could I love you
Could you love me
Darling it's
All the same
'Til we dance away
Chasing me all around
Leading me all around
Leading me all around in circles
Say ...