. Bonds of Choice #14 Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series by HiperBunny (message 3 of 4) +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ "Not a wanton bone in my body. I'll wanton him ... " Obi-Wan grumbled. He hadn't meant to overhear Qui-Gon's thoughts, but he wasn't shielded as tightly today as he usually was. Well, he hadn't been! He'd caught the tone of Qui-Gon's looks, had listened just briefly and ... *Never mind. I have work to do.* He fired up the retrieval program on the library stacks and started his search. He needed information on motivational analysis, ethical philosophy, known cases of late-onset moral degeneration ... a lot of work to do. The first cache of files dumped into his data bin and he started scrolling through titles. He dumped the first few batches, they being mostly made up of the trainee/Padawan-written papers for various classes in the Temple. He hid a grin as a few of his own efforts hit the reject pile. The more pithy stuff was by authors who were writing when Obi-Wan was still terrorizing the crèche and before. He began saving off title after title for later examination, treatises on moral life and so on. He began reading through the keepers, a pile of essays and research reports that put a great deal of thought into the connection between motivation and spiritual expression. An hour later and he was almost ready for a breather. Some of the information was beginning to run together and his eyes had started to complain. Still, he just wanted to get to the end of this one paper. It was quite interesting, actually, as far as ethical philosophy goes. He popped his neck and began scanning over the last few screens of data. "Therefore it can be seen that all action is determined by choice on the part of the effector. Whether poorly thought out or guided by the sure hand of the Force, no action can be made without an essential preselection on the part of the actor ... " And so on and so forth etceteras. Obi-Wan let his eyes drift half-closed as the data wound across the screen. This was, far and away, the most useful text he had found. It laid out methods of discovering a personal motivation behind any action, through a trick of emotion-sensing. Empathic input used to determine an ethical position, or lack thereof. Obi-Wan reached out to slow the page when a phrase caught his eye. "Although some arguments can be resolved through debate alone, many require a more concrete resolution before a position can be proven or disproved. A well-maintained argument ... " Stop. Back up. "The conclusion of an argument should be an action." There. He'd heard that line as often as he'd heard his own name in the earlier parts of his diplomatic training, even as far back as his lessons in the crèche. It was second-nature to him now, the knowledge that he would need to take action on whatever his convictions were. And the idea that he would know whether he was right or wrong only after action had been taken. *Hmm. Wonder who started this.* He scrolled back to the beginning of the file and felt his jaw hit his chest. Knight Jinn. Okay, so maybe he shouldn't be surprised. Obi-Wan knew his master to be a wise man. It certainly followed that he might have written some of his personal philosophy and entered it into the archives. Many Jedi did this, though Obi-Wan could not remember a time during his apprenticeship that Qui-Gon had done so. Still ... it might be interesting to know ... He called for all entries in the stacks and the library proper composed by Qui-Gon Jinn and set the unit to copy onto datachips. He left the desk and headed for the catering unit and cav. When he returned, he was lucky he didn't spray the vid down in shock. Title after title scrolled past as it was copied. The chipreader beeped, announcing that the datachip was full. Obi-Wan replaced it, fingers numb, mind reeling. *When did Qui-Gon have time to be a scholar?* When the files finished the transfer, there were still three titles at the bottom. A note informed him that, while the texts were ready for transfer, there were hardcopies in the stacks which had additional information not available in the digital version. Obi-Wan noted the titles and set out to find them. The first was more philosophy, which Obi-Wan put aside to check out. The second a pamphlet on issues mathematical. The third, however ... *paydirt.* While Obi-Wan had a handle on most subjects, including rational thought and mathematics, his true love was language. This was a well-documented fact. He spent more free time just reading stories, poetry, learning new ways of saying something, than anything else. And here, in hardcopy with illustrative notes, was Qui-Gon Jinn's "Poetic Analysis" in all its glory. How this text had been missed, Obi-Wan had no idea. He had no intention of moving from the spot he sat in until he'd read every word. Two chapters in and Obi-Wan knew why he'd never been recommended the tome by any of his instructors. They tended to avoid assigning him texts that would provoke arguments. Four chapters in and he was making notes on his lightslate almost faster than he was thinking them. At the end of the fifth chapter, he went back to his dataset and called for a download to his own lightslate. When it was delivered, he began at the beginning, even going so far as to adjust the layout so that he could make notes within the text itself. He was busily making refutations down a margin when he felt a familiar signature in the Force. Qui-Gon was nearby, probably on the first floor of the library. The stacks were kept on the second level. A balcony overlooked the lower area and Obi-Wan lost no time getting to the railing. Qui-Gon looked up at him, probably surprised by the type and amount of emotion echoing through their bond. Obi-Wan was beyond caring. "HOW could you argue that 'Seraphas Breath' was not illustrative of a caring relationship?" he demanded. Qui-Gon tucked his hands in his sleeves, rocked back on his heels and settled once more before replying. "The speaker evidences no intention of embracing the object of their affection. Without that connection, there can be no love, therefore no caring relationship." "Oh, so you assume love can not be felt without reciprocation?" Obi-Wan demanded. "No, I say a caring relationship can not be had without emotional reciprocation," Qui-Gon clarified. "And the reciprocation must be through romantic love? What about protection, companionship, caregiving? Wouldn't those create a caring relationship even without shared romantic love?" Obi-Wan shook the text at Qui-Gon. "And just what do you mean 'The Definition of Love must begin with the acknowledgment that 'love' is an action verb?" "Romantic love is only one aspect of a pair bond. Caring relationships are created in many ways. Love is an action verb, it's something you do, not something you have," Qui-Gon promptly replied. Just then one of the librarians came up and kicked Qui-Gon in the shins. The short, furry being extended something to the Jedi and waddled off amongst squeaks and grunts of apparent displeasure. Obi-Wan snatched up his lightslate, datachips and hardcopies, vaulted over the railing and landed next to his master. "What?" "I've been informed that we must take this discussion to a more suitable forum," Qui-Gon held out the room passkey for Obi-Wan's inspection. "Oh great. Let's just go back to our rooms and talk there," Obi-Wan's voice was heavy with vexation and sarcasm. "I think this is a wonderful suggestion our dear Seloya has made," Qui-Gon informed his student. "Come along." Obi-Wan followed his master, but not meekly, as was his wont to do. No, his chin was high, eyes flashing, knuckles white from the grip he maintained on Qui-Gon's little text on poetic meaning. He detected a sort of squeaky-gritty noise and was unsettled to realize he was literally grinding his teeth together. Well, maybe this would be for the best. Qui-Gon slipped the cardkey into the lock and bowed Obi-Wan in. The door snicked shut behind him and he made his way to the table. Qui-Gon had, apparently, gone to gather his own ammunition. Fine. Just fine. Obi-Wan thumbed his lightslate on and began to dig in for the argument of a lifetime. *************************** Kourt Crowe stood at the observation window grinning like an idiot. Corubia was similarly smirking beside him. "They're going to do one another damage if they don't stop," she observed. "It had to happen sooner or later. You said so yourself, Padawan," Kourt reminded her. "When did I say that?" she asked. "Not too long ago you said if those two ever started talking, this Order was going to get rocked. Well, they're talking," Kourt pointed towards the window with his chin. Indeed, the pair was talking. At a high rate. At full volume. Simultaneously. Obi-Wan had apparently taken umbrage with Qui-Gon's interpretation of certain key poems. Qui-Gon had, in return, picked a fight in regards to Obi-Wan's methods in a flower breeding experiment. Obi-Wan countered with the basic problems of Qui-Gon's multidimensional geometry theorems. Qui-Gon rejoined, citing the semantic flaws of Obi-Wan's prophecy/paradox essays. What neither seemed to realize was they were correcting one another's work on the fly. They had been going at it for an hour before anyone thought to let Kourt know what was going on. By the time he and Corubia arrived the rest of the Group was gathered outside the Debate Chamber window, listening through the hard-line, munching popcorn and watching the conversation as if it were a sporting event. Kourt had to admit this was much more interesting than your average inning of mullya-baseball. They had to be winding down. Both of them were hoarse and slumped over the table. Obi-Wan drew a ragged breath and launched into his next round of attack, only to be countered immediately by Qui-Gon's own irrefutable arguments. Apparently they had returned to some previous point, the nature of emotional bonding. Frankly, Kourt agreed with Qui-Gon. "While it is a possibility for one being to have a caring, trusting, beneficial relationship with another in absence of what we have agreed should be called love, it is more often the case that love will exist between members of a pair bond," Qui-Gon restated. "But is there any categorical evidence that these relationships are actually more healthy and beneficial to the participants?" Obi-Wan doggedly pursued. "Before we can answer that, we would have to agree on a scale of comparison, Padawan," Qui-Gon was serene in his assertion. Obi-Wan groaned. "No, we don't. You show me one instant where the expression of love makes an interaction intrinsically more beneficial and altogether pleasant than without it and I'll concede the point." Qui-Gon fixed his student with a steady look. "Are you sure?" "Yeah, I'm too tired to do this one right, Master." "Mmmhm. Prepare to concede. Here was our experience this morning," Qui-Gon's eyes went out of focus. Clearly they were sharing some line of thought or memory on the sub-vocal level. Obi-Wan's eyes went wide with shock. "I didn't mean it like that." "Mmmhm. Now here's what love does for you," Qui-Gon stood, rounded the table and laid a kiss on his student that soon drew whistles and catcalls from the gathered audience. Kourt observed the proceedings with a practiced eye. Qui-Gon wasn't holding anything back. Fingers on throat, one arm around ribcage, fall of hair brushing cheek ... probably a wash of love and desire crashing through their bond. Kid didn't stand a chance. The elder Master could fair see the Padawan's spine melting. His toes were probably curling up into his feet by now. When Qui-Gon broke the kiss and returned to his seat Obi-Wan sat in a momentary daze. Then he fixed Qui-Gon with a glare. "What the hell was that for?" he demanded. "The end of an argument should be an action," Qui-Gon replied, shrugging. "Mmhm. You have and appointment with Master Crowe this evening. You're probably late already," Obi-Wan began gathering up his materials. "You concede the point, as agreed?" Qui-Gon inquired. Obi-Wan slowly raised his head. "No, Master, I do not. However, I fear we must postpone differentiating between love and lust until some other date." Well. Kourt and the others scattered as Obi-Wan headed for the door. Not that they had any hope of going undiscovered. It would take more than a one-way mirror to keep a couple of riled Jedi unaware of observation. Still, it wouldn't do to be hanging around with Obi-Wan in such a snit. Kourt sincerely hoped the younger man made for a meditation garden as soon as he was out of the library. Qui-Gon exited the chamber a few moments later, slumped against the doorframe and looked straight at the place where Kourt hid behind a rack of periodicals. "You're a nerve-wracking sonofabitch, Kourt," Qui-Gon grumbled. "Having trouble keeping up with your own student there, Quigs?" Kourt grinned. "Just you wait, Master Crowe. You'll get yours, one day," Qui-Gon flashed a teensy smile. "So, I guess I'm more than warmed up for Torlamin, now." "Yeah, I guess you are. Felt good, didn't it?" Kourt linked his arm through Qui-Gon's and led his friend towards the lifts. "It was astounding, I tell you. He was all over me, breaking through all my defenses, giving no quarter, asking none, stripping down his own position until he had something defensible and clean. Skies, Kourt ... " Qui-Gon tugged his robes more neatly into place. "So ... better than sex? Purely academic inquiry, you understand," Kourt pushed the button for the sub-levels and leaned against the lift wall. "You don't even want to know. Skies, I don't want to think about how much that ... blatant display of intellectual prowess turned me on," Qui-Gon actually, physically blushed. "Good thing there's no laws against lewd and licentious displays of intelligence, huh?" Kourt led the way out of the lift and towards the Group's lab. "Well, hate to break it to you, but I need your brain for something else, Master Jinn. Matter of life and death, you know." "Yes, I know. I want to start by looking at the changes we made to her memory," Qui-Gon was off and running once more. His tête-à-tête with Obi-Wan had really been just a warm-up. He'd be lucky if he got home before sunrise. ************************ There are certain disadvantages to being apprenticed to one of the finest Jedi on record. One of them is that a student can develop one hell of an inferiority complex. The upside is that, eventually, a worthy student discovers that they are becoming their master's equal. Obi-Wan thumbed the remote, backing the holovid up to the point where he had truly lost his fight. Not the end of the debate but just moments before it had begun. This was the reason Qui-Gon had taken him into a formal debate chamber: it was wired for recording the exchange. He turned the sound off and watched the events unfold once more. Qui-Gon opened the door. He closed the door. He sat down across from Obi-Wan and placed a cup of tea before him on the table. He had no other materials, no other supplies. Just himself, his knowledge and a cup of tea. Obi-Wan understood a challenge when he saw one. The holo-Obi-Wan shoved his materials aside and fixed Qui-Gon with a steady look. His lips moved, but no sound came forth. No sound was needed. Obi-Wan would remember speaking those words for the rest of his life. "I don't know how a man who could write such drivel could fool so many into thinking him wise," Obi-Wan whispered. The most damning thing about it was that he saw, actually SAW the hurt those words caused his master. Then he saw his master forgive him for speaking thus. Then his master had showed him, in every way possible, just who was the Master and who was the Padawan and why. Obi-Wan sighed and turned the sound back on. Even as the argument advanced, both conceding points, both taking small victories, Obi-Wan was awed at the mind he had studied under. Awed and enamored of it, totally. He was losing ground rapidly as the razor-fine logic and delicately honed intelligence pulled his arguments apart and handed them back on a plate. Obi-Wan watched himself falter, redirect and return in kind, hoping to gain some sort of ground. He had only a few moments to construct his argument, no time for secondary analysis, but he knew he was right in what he was saying. He brought his point home. There. Stop. He froze the holo at that moment, looking at the subtle change in his Master's face. A stranger wouldn't have seen it. Even a casual friend might have overlooked it. But Obi-Wan was no casual observer. He knew that flicker for what it was, that elegant darkening of eyes, furrow of brow, hint of a smile then return to serenity. Qui-Gon had found himself beaten, quickly reviewed the engagement and quirked his smile of approval at his student. To Obi-Wan's experience, that was as good as being called a genius. Obi-Wan switched the vid off. Re-watching wasn't going to help, wouldn't change the facts and wouldn't give him the answers to the questions whirling through his mind. In the great Jedi tradition, Obi-Wan pulled his boots off, tucked himself into the Lotus pose and stilled his mind in meditation. In truth, Qui-Gon had taken it easy on him, keeping the subjects of discussion to areas in which Obi-Wan had expressed interest. That first topic, the poetry, had been Obi-Wan's strongest round. But he had kept up, in all areas. Kept pace with his Master, though he knew Qui-Gon wasn't holding back. Yes, the subjects were familiar ones, but they were by no means simple. Qui-Gon had the advantage of years, one he simply put aside to level the playing field, as it were. Common subjects, no resources but their own knowledge, a duel of wits that ended in a draw. No, Obi-Wan had to admit it. He was no inferior specimen, intellectually. Anyone who could go 'round with Qui-Gon Jinn and get that little smile of approval had no business bowing and scraping and pleading to be kept, to be allowed to stay, to be protected from rejection. Anyone who had trained and studied under Master Jinn and gotten that smile could be certain that, whatever place they held, it was theirs by RIGHT. Obi-Wan held that discovery out at arm's length, studied it. *A right to place,* he pondered that for a long moment. He began sifting through his memories, recalling all the times he had denied the assertion that he belonged here, in the Temple, next to Qui-Gon. He couldn't recall ever being told 'You belong here, you are one of us.' In fact, he knew himself to be a temporary resident. Well, technically, he wasn't a Jedi yet. But no suggestion had ever been made that he would not pass his trials, that he would not be a Knight, that he would not serve the Order in whatever manner would be best for him. Well, there was Torlamin, but he was fairly well prepared to chuck her opinion out with yesterday's leavings, especially considering recent events. And he had a pile of memories just begging to refute her claims. All of a certain, tight little smile. *Well, okay. So I'm a fair candidate for being a full Jedi. So what?* Obi-Wan stretched out on the sofa. No point in posing when he wasn't really meditating in the first place. *So if you're planning on being a Jedi, don't you think you should put a little thought into a certain ribbon? And maybe a certain charm, too?* His thoughts reflexively shied away from that line of thinking. It was not so much that he didn't want to think about it. It was more a sense that he wasn't ready to make those decisions yet. He had the feeling that he should wait. That he was waiting for someone or something or ... He let his eyes drift closed, pushing thought into silence, centering himself, seeking a path, finding a place in spirit that could guide him to the answers, to revelation. It reminded him of the period of free-association he had experienced on Renal Sejon, under the influence of the Kurasian coming-of-age drug. This was no drug, that he knew well. It was the Moment, in all the infinite variety and possibility, the current time, built up out of past events. It was those events he needed to explore. He stilled himself further and something quite incredible happened. The Force spoke up, loud and clear, in a mosaic of memory and emotion so indescribably beautiful Obi-Wan lost himself for a long moment, content in the blissful wash of understanding. At first it was bare images, sounds, the occasional smell or taste, then longer flashes of memory drew up, caught his attention, instructed him in carefully chosen terms. flickflickflickflickflickflickflick Qui-Gon's hands were infinitely gentle as he wrapped the bandages around Obi-Wan's forearm. "Sometimes I think you were born just to vex me, Padawan," his smile was as easy as his touch. " How can I do any good for the Council if I can not rely on your abilities? I know you're young, but you must try to do better." Obi-Wan chuckled in reply. "I'm sorry, Master. It seemed like a good idea at the time." "Yes, Obi-Wan. A good IDEA, it was. However, your planning and execution leave something to be desired. Are you sure you don't want me to heal this for you?" Qui-Gon sealed the bandage on the opposite side of the cut. "Yes, Master. I need to practice my self-healing. This shouldn't get in the way too much, before I have the time to trance down," Obi-Wan flexed his fingers, making sure this was true. "Come to me if you find it is more than you can handle," Qui-Gon ordered. "Yes, Master," Obi-Wan smiled. flickflickflick Obi-Wan came into the lower library, casting about for his master's presence. There. Under a pile of Trainees and Padawans, as usual. Holding forth, yet again, no doubt offering instruction on a subject so dry he'd need a glass of water just from thinking about it. The other kids seemed enthralled, and Obi-Wan slipped in at the back of the group to listen. Polydimensional geometry. Qui-Gon's patient tutoring had been the only thing to get Obi-Wan out of that class alive. He could hardly begrudge others the benefit of Qui-Gon's teaching as well. Saber practice could wait until another day. flickflickflick "For the last time, if you can't remember a simple set of instructions, what good are you? Tell me how to help you remember." Qui-Gon cleared the dataset. "Come on, now." "Please, Master, I can't. I'm so tired ... please," Obi-Wan was appalled to hear himself whimper. He'd kept quiet, kept still, kept trying for hours now. The security sim before him was so complicated ... but he'd done it before! If he could just concentrate ... he fought another wave of nausea, but this time Qui-Gon saw it. "Padawan?" "I'm sorry, Master. I don't ... could I just rest a minute? I'll get it ... " "Obi-Wan! Are you all right?" Qui-Gon's strong arms were lifting him up and headed for the sofa. "Bathroom," Obi-Wan warned. Qui-Gon redirected his steps and had his student before the toilet moments before Obi-Wan's lunch put in its second appearance of the day. Gentle fingers rubbed his back and shoulders as he helplessly retched until there was nothing more to lose. Gentle words crooned down to him "Oh, Padawan. You mustn't do this to yourself. I want you healthy far more than I need you working, shh." flickflickflick Obi-Wan looked at the shattered glass, the horror of its breakage still fresh in his mind. He'd been so focused on levitating his slate from the desk to the couch that he had simply forgotten about the figure on the table between them. The door slid open and Qui-Gon walked in. "Master, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to ... " Obi-Wan began, one hand tugging hard on his short braid. *Oh please, I want to keep this, please.* "Are you all right? Did you cut yourself?" Qui-Gon was at his side in an instant, looking for blood, damage, anything that might be amiss. Completely ignoring the ruin of the bird before them. "No, I was lifting my slate and ... " "Okay. Okay, good. Would you clean this up for me while I change clothes? I'm expecting company ... " Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "Yes, Master. Of course, Master ... Master?" Qui-Gon turned in the door of his room. "Yes?" Obi-Wan swallowed once. "May I have my own room? I ... please?" *Please, I don't want to cause you trouble, please.* Qui-Gon sighed and nodded. "I'll speak to Allocations tomorrow. Now ... the mess?" Obi-Wan nodded mutely. Less than a week, and he'd already ruined something that couldn't be replaced. If Qui-Gon wouldn't punish him ... flickflickflick Qui-Gon rubbed his eyes and pushed the datachips for their next assignment aside. "Padawan, I could have helped you with this hours ago. You need your rest. Now, what is it we're studying?" flickflickflick Qui-Gon bowed to the council and set his stance in for the long haul. Obi-Wan suppressed a sigh. WHY did Qui-Gon insist on arguing everything the Council suggested? "With all due respect, Masters, I can not leave the care of my Padawan to another. I couldn't care less HOW important you think these negotiations might possibly one day be. There are others who are just as capable who do NOT have oaths regarding the protection and education of a student to consider. I will not, can not ignore them for any reason. In your hearts, you know I am right." flickflickflick Qui-Gon's fingers closed around Obi-Wan's biceps, fingers digging in, demanding attention. "Your affection is not unwanted. It is very much desired, in fact. Do you think even for a second that I would have accepted a physical relationship with you if I did not wish something more? Something real? I do not enter into these things lightly." Obi-Wan lay stunned. After a moment he regained the ability to speak. "Do you mean that?" "Yes, I mean that." Strong hands smoothed away the pale marks they had left on his arms. "And do I need to answer for myself right now? Because I don't know what to say. You will give me time to consider?" "All that you need and more." Qui-Gon swore. flickflickflick Qui-Gon looked at the ruined school building with something like horror. Obi-Wan put a hand on his arm, trying to comfort him. Qui-Gon turned to his student, face passive but eyes stormy, as in the throes of a bitter loss. "They have not just destroyed a building, Padawan. They have destroyed opportunity." Obi-Wan tilted his head in unspoken question. "Education, Padawan. It is the highest pursuit. I have often wished I had the opportunity to take more than one student at a time, or to teach as some do, at the Temple. I've always wanted the time to learn ... " Qui-Gon cleared his throat suddenly. "I am very glad you are here, that I may give you all I know. It brings me peace, at times like this." Obi-Wan bowed his head, "Thank you, Master, for wanting to share with me." "Come now, we must find who has done this. All depends upon this, to prevent future destruction." flickflickflickflickflickflickflick Obi-Wan opened his eyes with a gasp. The light had shifted enough to tell him much time had passed. Qui-Gon was still not home, a fact for which he was mightily grateful. It would seem there was much he had yet to know, to learn about the choice he had before him. Again, there was the tugging within, whispering 'Wait. Think on it. Not time yet.' Obi-Wan shook himself, pulled up into the Lotus pose again. If the waiting was for learning, then much thought would be needed. What was he missing? *Okay, Force. What am I sitting here waiting for?* Even as he began to still his mind once more, he knew the answers would still yet be a long time coming.