. Bonds of Choice #16 Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series by HiperBunny (message 3 of 4) +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Kourt had witnessed that bond, as he had witnessed Qui-Gon's other bondings. Always he offered those same words. 'Don't forget. Don't regret.' And Qui-Gon never had, until Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon turned the stiletto in his hands, letting the sunlight play along its razor edge. Obi-Wan would simply have to listen. He would have to understand Qui-Gon, all of him, on every level before Qui-Gon could be satisfied. Qui-Gon thought about his words to his lover the night before. 'Anything at all that you desire, on any terms you wish. I want you to.' He accepted that his words were a lie. He couldn't simply let Obi-Wan pick and choose what they would have together. That was an imbalance in and of itself. Qui-Gon turned over onto his stomach and curled his arms under his head. *Don't forget about yourself, Jinn. Have a care for yourself. Nobody else will, if you don't.* He let his eyes drift closed as he sought a meditative trance. No more memories now. He let his mind drift on the steady pulses of the Force, seeking what he must bring to his Koateleu, if a balance was to be struck. **************************** Obi-Wan reached for the chime on Obream's door. A touch of misgiving fluttering in his stomach, and he pulled his hand back. He wasn't absolutely certain that this was how things were done. He was acutely aware of the absurd and uncomfortable position this assignment had put him in, but he only had his own suspicions and the mere potential for trouble. He was more than capable of handling unwanted advances, but this was a new and complicated situation. If Obream tried to make his life difficult, it could easily compromise the viability of the mission. If Obream *really* went for power-abuse, Obi-Wan was light-years from home and in the middle of hostile territory, for all intents and purposes. He shook himself mentally. *Do not focus on your anxieties, Kenobi. Remember what Master keeps telling you. Focus determines reality. Focus on completing this mission without incident. Or killing anyone in a leadership position.* Obi-Wan hit the chime on the door. He rather thought the Knight's attempts, should they occur, would pale in comparison to the things Qui-Gon had done over the years to hone Obi-Wan's calm and serenity. The door opened and Obi-Wan knew that touch of misgiving had been a true foretelling. Obream was in nothing but trousers, and as he stepped back Obi-Wan saw that every available chair was filled with gear and supplies. This left only the short bunk for a seat, a sign that boded not well for this mission. He gave a mental sigh and engaged his 'evasive maneuvers' for annoying politicians and inebriated peers. Too bad he had to use them on a superior, but he'd really expected at least one incident like this. "Come on in," Obream offered, tone rather familiar. "Have a seat." "Good day, Knight Trydal. If it please you, I should prefer to stand." Obi-Wan noted the flicker of disappointment. "I have the manifest from the evacuation crew, and the blueprints for the Temple. We should be able to work from these to evaluate the facility," Obi-Wan began, keeping his tone firmly deferential and businesslike, the very picture of Padawanian innocence. He glanced up and could tell Obream wasn't buying it. He looked more like he was picturing Obi-Wan at least several feet away from his uniform. Preferably sweaty and panting. Obi-Wan suppressed a shudder and continued. "I was unable to find supply estimates for San Saloor. It's a good-sized town, at last report, so I think it will merely be a matter of arranging things. As opposed to creating a support base for the Temple, you see," he held his lightslate out to Obream. Obream took the slate and set it aside. *Great. All the subtlety of a Bantha in heat. This I do not need,* Obi-Wan inwardly seethed. His face was a mask of perfect calm, reasonable openness and serene inquiry. *Come on, little fishy. Step in it.* "I understand you requested the restraining order against me be lifted," Obream began. "I had to, in order to accept this mission," Obi-Wan truthfully replied. "And that was your only motivation?" the Knight pressed. "Yes." Obi-Wan could tell the Knight didn't believe that. "Are you sure there were no ... other causes?" "None that you would understand," Obi-Wan smiled. "Try me." "Thank you, I'd rather not. Been there, done that, got the emotional scars," Obi-Wan's tone was still polite, but carried the weight of razor-sharp steel with it. Obream blinked, then picked up the lightslate again. "I think you're right about the supply. I'd like to do the Temple survey myself, so if you could take the local survey, I think that would work out best." "As you will, Sir," Obi-Wan bowed, accepting. "We should be in San Saloor by late tomorrow, local time. Did you have anything pressing to accomplish during transit?" Obream was looking for an opening again. "Indeed. I have several assignments and meditations that Master Jinn will expect report on when I return. I wanted to get started on them as soon as possible," Obi-Wan replied. "I see. Well, I'll leave you to that. I'll be having lunch in the common area just past ships' noon, so perhaps you'd care to join me?" Obi-Wan considered for a long moment. Incivility would get him nowhere, and would give the appearance of hiding, cowardice. "Yes, I believe I will." He didn't much care for the triumphant smile that caused, or the feather-light caress to his fingers as he took his lightslate back, but there was no easy cure for that. "Lunch, then," Obream nodded. Obi-Wan bowed and exited, headed for his own quarters. He put Obream out of his mind. There were more pressing matters, important matters he needed to explore. No ex-boyfriend was going to put him off his center, not this late in the game. Besides, he had a current boyfriend to deal with, just now. *Again with the relationship stuff. Either you're losing it, or ... you've already lost it. Best to find out for sure, Kenobi.* ****************************** The music room was nearly empty when Qui-Gon arrived early for his appointment with Swed. He would have been late, had he opted to wear his uniform. However, his morning meditation had put him in mind of more casual clothing so he had opted for a thin sweater and comfortable denims instead. Most of the practice cubicles stood free for use and Qui-Gon went into the one Swed seemed to prefer, set his vyol case on the table and sat at the pianoforte to test its tuning. The action was a little light for his tastes, but he'd seen that Swed could use this attribute to his advantage. Satisfied, he turned to his vyol. It had been carefully stored away some years ago, taken out only in moments of supreme need. It took some long time to make it ready for playing once more, but the effort was much worth the result of sweet sound he finally drew from the instrument. Preparations complete, he exited the practice room in search of sheet music. His quest was interrupted when he passed one of the smaller practice rooms. A low tension of frustration and near-anger drifted to him from beyond the door. He tapped on it, wondering if perhaps Swed had chosen a different room for today's session. The door slid back to reveal, not a Padawan, but a trainee struggling with a small lap harp. Qui-Gon started to back out of the room, but the boy turned to face him, his expression a mask of tension. "Can I help you?" Qui-Gon asked. "I'm sorry, Master. I didn't mean to disturb you," the boy replied, fumbling to raise shields around his emotional turmoil. "I wasn't disturbed. I was just wondering who else was here," Qui-Gon lied easily. It wouldn't do to leave a child in this state. Not at all. "Oh. I'm Aeson. Aren't you Master Jinn? Obi-Wan's Master?" the boy inquired. "Yes, I am," Qui-Gon smiled, a little surprised at being recognized by one so young. "Is he going to be in the gardens today?" Aeson asked hopefully. "No, I'm afraid not. He has gone on a mission. I'm staying here at the Temple to wait for him to get back," Qui-Gon explained. "Oh. Well, I'd better get back to my exercises," the young man sighed. He shifted on the cushion he was using as a seat, pulled the harp into his shoulder and began the fingering exercises Qui-Gon's entrance had interrupted. Qui-Gon came and knelt down behind him. "Mind if I watch?" "As it please you, Master," Aeson replied easily, the rote response for one of his rank and age. Qui-Gon smiled, thinking of the recent times Obi-Wan had used just that phrase to remind the master that the student was growing up. Aeson's right hand moved smoothly up the strings, then back down, then up and down once more, wrist flowing smoothly with the scale. The left hand, however, struggled to keep up with the exercise. Qui-Gon reached over and gently removed Aeson's right hand from the strings, focusing the practice where it was most needed. The boy never paused, taking the correction in stride. Qui-Gon watched the left hand carefully, dredging up memories from his long-ago experiments with the harp. After a moment, he took Aeson's left hand, stretched the fingers in a more careful arc, correcting the embouchure of thumb to string and released him to continue. Now the exercise flowed easily and Qui-Gon put his right hand back to the strings. "Better?" "Yes, Master. Thank you, Master," Aeson replied, voice low and breathless. "I'm sorry. That was rather rude of me, wasn't it?" Qui-Gon berated himself. "I suppose it just becomes reflex, after a while." Aeson's head came around, music forgotten. "No, Master," he whispered, aghast. "I'll leave you to your practice," Qui-Gon hastily stood and retreated to his own practice chamber, closing the door firmly behind him. He leaned there for a long moment, eyes closed, breathing controlled, until he was calm once more. "Master Jinn?" The unexpected address made Qui-Gon nearly jump out of his skin. "Yes, Padawan?" "Are you okay?" Swed asked from his seat at the pianoforte. "I ... think so," Qui-Gon hazarded. "Do you want to talk about it?" That simple offering quite took Qui-Gon by surprise. Few, if any, simply listened to his worries anymore. He supposed that had much to do with the image of a Jedi Master, but that made the phenomenon no less lonely. "I just barged in on some trainee and started correcting his practice." "And?" "And I've never even met him before. Harp isn't even one of my better instruments," Qui-Gon explained. "And?" "And? There I was, big as you please, like he was my student and I had a right to be doing that. I'm surprised the lot of you Learners and Trainees don't rise up and revolt against us Masters on a regular basis." Qui-Gon snorted. "Don't think we haven't considered it, Master Jinn. However, there's a serious drawback to that plan, one you might not have considered," Swed stood and joined Qui-Gon by the door, leaning against the jamb. "You all have some deep and abiding need to be put down on a daily basis?" Qui-Gon guessed. "Nope. Better than that. You all have something you can teach us, if we're willing to learn. If we kill you, your knowledge goes with you and we'd never be Jedi. That IS what most of us are after, you know." Swed shrugged. "Most of us. That kid, whoever he was, was probably thrilled that a Master took a few minutes out of his day to help him. I would have been, at that age." "I've probably scarred him for life," Qui-Gon mourned. "I think you might be over rating your powers of influence, Master Jinn. If you're really worried about him, go take some candy or something to him later. Come on, we've got work to do. I found something Obi-Wan would just adore." Swed went to his shoulderbag and began riffling through stacks of music. Qui-Gon resolved to take Swed's advice about Aeson and put the incident from his mind. His own skills were rusty, to say the least. He'd have long hours of practice ahead of him if he wanted his Koatel to be properly impressed. "So, what have you selected." "Little thing Corubia asked me to do. Jenji's got a new sculpture going up about this legend Cor told her. They wanted a song to go with it, so they asked me. I wrote some of it down, but it needs a little improv. Since it's a sculpture about a folk tale, I thought I'd do the song in folk music," he explained. Qui-Gon looked the music over, smiled at the catchy tune and made ready to play. "I don't normally play music like this. I like it, though. It's nothing like what you were practicing those forms to," Swed alluded. Qui-Gon firmly controlled his blush reflex. "That was some pretty hot stuff," Swed pressed. "Shall we begin?" Qui-Gon asked. "Okay. I'll see if I can't do some of the lyrics, though I'll warn you, I'm no singer," Swed began the opening bars. Qui-Gon picked up and followed along, toying with the themes as Swed warmed up to his style. "Okay, here's the chorus," Swed informed him. He hummed a bit, then picked up a thread of lyric. And the vine it winds around around And the vine it winds around It takes its strength from oaken branch That the vine it winds around "I've heard this tune before," Qui-Gon smiled, pausing in his performance. "The music is a variation on something Obi and Cor used to sing." Swed grinned. "It just worked well with the lyrics I'd written. I didn't think they'd still be singing a love song they wrote in the throes of teenage amore. They gave up love songs a long time ago. To be honest, you could have knocked me over with a feather when he told me about you two." Qui-Gon put his vyol down, surprised. "Why?" Swed sobered at the question. "Because he's the only one of us to have lost faith in love. I didn't think he'd dally with someone he cares for and respects, as he does you. He doesn't take lovers. Just partners." "Until now, you mean," Qui-Gon insisted. "No, I mean, he's sworn off. Sex? Cool. Anything more? Well, he's okay with feeling love for others, but you've undoubtedly noticed he doesn't accept it too well. Relationships? Kenobi doesn't DO relationships. Ask Jenji sometime." "I'd rather not," Qui-Gon murmured. "So, why did it surprise you?" Swed rolled his eyes. "He takes you seriously. I mean, Jenji was the closest thing he ever accepted as a lover, and they were done faster than the news about them could get around. She cared about him, he couldn't take it, he bolted. Luckily it wasn't 'love undying' on her part, or they wouldn't be speaking anymore. So, but he swore a LONG time ago never to fuck someone he thought he could love. As far as I know, he kept to that. There was a ... bad patch some while back, with Obream. It ... killed his faith. And then he tells me you and he are ... intimate." "So the surprise is that he's sleeping with me, so he can't possibly love me," Qui-Gon clarified. Swed shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe he does, in his own weird little Kenobi way. We've teased him for years, saying he had a crush on you. I never thought it might be true, or that anything would come of it if it was. But I doubt he would have bedded you, if he was planning on staying. Cor says he's like Ulanta. I think that's why she and Jenji were talking about this legend, trying to make him think about what he's doing. Instead, they end up making sculpture." "What's an Ulanta?" Qui-Gon asked, starting to feel a little numb. "You know, Ulanta and Pantreti. That's what they're sculpting," Swed handed the lyric sheet over to Qui-Gon. "I don't have the whole story yet, but ... " Qui-Gon was definitely going numb now. "Would you begin from the beginning, please, Padawan?" he handed the lyric sheet back and raised his vyol, took a deep breath to steady himself. Swed smiled and began the opening strains once more. Qui-Gon followed along, keeping his own line simple, listening to the lyrics as if they held the key to life itself. Ulanta was a comely lass A warrior was she Oh ever would she let love pass And never would she see, oh Never would she see Pantreti was her sheildmate Strength flowing like the fountain And in his heart love did create The patience of the mountain The patience of the mountain And the vine it winds around around And the vine it winds around It takes its strength from the oaken branch That the vine it winds around For a hundred days it's said Pantreti sweetly wooed her Until Ulanta from him fled And Pantreti pursued her And Pantreti pursued her She ran across the hill and dale Through meadow and through field Pantreti followed every step But never would she yield, oh Never would she yield And the vine it winds around around And the vine it winds around It takes its strength from the oaken branch That the vine it winds around Ulanta's goddess heard her plea "Pantreti for me pines! I want no lover, rescue me!" The goddess changed her to a vine A strong and healthy vine Pantreti to his god then prayed "My love is given freely I'd give her shelter, give her shade," And Pantreti was a tree, oh A tall, strong oaken tree And the vine it winds around around And the vine it winds around It takes its strength from the oaken branch That the vine it winds around And to this day in every field In forest and in glade You'll see the lovers loving still In patience love was made, oh In patience love was made So if your true love turns away Or will not yield unto thee Remember all the words I say And be you like Pantreti, oh Be you like Pantreti And the vine it winds around around And the vine it winds around It takes its strength from the oaken branch That the vine it winds around Qui-Gon drew the last notes out of his instrument then carefully set it aside. He folded his hands over his heart and bowed to Swed. "I owe you a debt, Padawan. This is ... a revelation to me." Swed gave him an inquisitive look, but held his peace. "My Padawan gave me ... he called it an 'inappropriate nickname' and wouldn't tell me what it meant. Your song has been very instructive as to its meaning," Qui-Gon explained. The light of understanding slowly dawned in Swed's eyes. "You're kidding! No, I can see you aren't. Well. We're going to have to get this perfect so you can play it for him when he gets back! I can't wait to see the look on his face ... " Swed dissolved into laughter at this point. Qui-Gon was well inclined to join him, and did. *Oh, Koateleu, what a surprise I'm going to have for your homecoming!* But in his heart a worry had begun. It would seem his love had no belief in loving. Qui-Gon could well understand, for there had been a time when such faith had died within himself as well.