. Bonds of Choice #22 Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series by HiperBunny (message 1 of 2) +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ The Aviary was lively today. Qui-Gon had come down to feed and care for the many resident strays. Though Qui-Gon was the most renowned 'collector,' he was far from the only person to do so in the Temple. He had completed his work quickly and stayed to watch the various creatures go about their lives. The smaller creatures liked to be close to him and fit easily in the huge pocket of Qui-Gon's surcoat, so he was wearing that article for the first time in what seemed like an age. He liked the knee-length sleeveless coat, but all too often found himself in need of his more formal tunics or even his uniform to lend his activities an official air. But today was all for himself, so he was free to give his patients a ride in his pocket and waste time. The Council had indeed restricted the whole of the Group to Coruscant's local sector. They could not go further than eight hours' travel in any direction and were expected to be at the disposal of the Council at any time of day or night. While this precluded most types of work around the Temple, it didn't prohibit goofing off. Qui-Gon had taken the opportunity to do just that. Obi-Wan had left early, saying that he and Corubia were going to try and start cataloging his book collection that morning. His comm link chirped and he had to maneuver it out from under a scrogo before answering. "Jinn." "Quigs! Where are you?" Kourt Crowe sounded just a little harried. "I'm in the Aviary. Is there something I can do for you?" Whatever it was, he was sure it would not be work-related. Kourt went to a great deal of trouble to get Qui-Gon to relax every now and again. The nameday party was a shining example. "I've lost my Padawan." Qui-Gon laughed. "Why are you calling me? Chirp her commlink. Mindcall her." "I did. Her link is in her room. I guess she forgot it. And she's shielded up something awful... I can't get through to her." From the rhythm of his speech, Qui-Gon could picture him perfectly, pacing in a little circle and tugging on his copious hair. "Well, let me think. She and Obi-Wan were supposed to work in the library today. Did you check there?" "Yes, yes, of course. They said she was there earlier but got kidnapped by Trainees! I thought they were having me on, but she's not down here." "You're at the library? Is Obi-Wan there?" "No! I thought he'd know where she went, but they're both gone!" Qui-Gon laughed outright. "Don't worry, Kourt. I know where your Padawan is. But let me ask you something…do you still have that double-boiler we used to share?" "Uh, yes…why? I don't have time for games, Quigs! I have to find her!" "Don't worry, just get the double-boiler and the scrapers if you still have them. Meet me at the Trainee's garden." Qui-Gon put his comm link away, restored the scrogo to its enclosure and headed out of the Aviary in the direction of the nearest catering unit. *************** When Qui-Gon entered the Trainees' Garden all activity paused and silence descended. He had forgotten what an unusual occasion his arrival would be here. He spied Obi-Wan sitting in the middle of a circle of children, his mouth agape, hands frozen in mid-motion of carving a bit of candy. One of the children leaned closer to him and stage-whispered, "Busted." Qui-Gon pointedly turned away from the little group, looking for a place to set his load down. One of the other children stopped her work with a patch of flowers and approached him. "May I help you with something, Master?" "Yes, please. I need a place to put these. Master Crowe will be along to help me shortly." Qui-Gon indicated his supply of foodstuffs with his chin. The trainee looked a little embarrassed, saying, "Well, the only place really is over there with Padawan Nall and Obi- uh, Padawan Kenobi. Maybe you could take the spot on the other side of the dydrangias?" Qui-Gon followed the child to a place somewhat apart from Corubia and Obi-Wan's activities. The Padawans were carrying on as if nothing was wrong, despite the fact that they were doing everything in their power to not be noticed by Qui-Gon. This was a peculiar Padawanian trait, one Qui-Gon often wished he still had. Masters at the Temple were inclined to let the students do as they would, knowing that a Padawan got little if any free time to just fool around and be young. Unless something dangerous or disruptive occurred, they would be left to their own devices. As a consequence, the Padawans learned that if they could avoid eye contact or direct speech, they weren't in trouble. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Master?" Qui-Gon looked more closely at his companion. "Yes…What is your name?" "I'm Sayjil, Master." "Sayjil, would you take this jug and fill it with potable water, please?" Qui-Gon handed a pitcher to the girl. "Yes, Master." Qui-Gon began opening packages while keeping an eye on the silvery-skinned child. She ran back to the flowerpatch she had been working on and picked up her lightslate. She typed rapidly with one hand, nodded then dashed to the water taps. *Probably had to look up 'potable,' you dimwit, * Qui-Gon berated himself as she made her way back to him. "Potable: suitable for drinking," she said, using a tone more suited to a classroom. "Very good," Qui-Gon praised. "Did you have an assignment, or are you here on free time?" "It's my free period just now. I'm trying to breed a pure strain of green saderias, but I keep getting problems in the third generation. I thought I'd come do my data while I had the chance," she explained. "Maybe my Padawan could help you. I think he knows something about it," Qui-Gon suggested. "He helped me lay out my garden, but I sort of wanted to do this myself. Oh, and he gave me a really good charting system to use. I wanted to try again before I got him to help me." She sat down and watched Qui-Gon measuring various ingredients into a large bowl. "I'm really just being stubborn this time. He always knows what's going wrong and shows me how to fix it better than anyone." Qui-Gon studied the girl closely for a moment. She'd be as good a test subject as any. "Now if you just sit still and watch, I'll give you something for being so helpful." "Yes, Master." The tone was properly deferential, but her eyes glittered with excitement. "Obi-Wan, I mean, Padawan Kenobi says you know some of the best tricks… is this one of them?" "Is that what he says? Well, yes, I suppose this is one of them, but I don't think Obi-Wan knows about it." Qui-Gon looked up to see Kourt enter the garden. The other master had a box of tools under one arm and the small boiler in tow. Qui-Gon waved him over. //Don't even look at her, Kourt.// <> //Spoiling the Trainees, same as us.// <> //No, just my stuffiness. Come on, Kourt. Tell me you haven't missed this, and I'll call you a liar. _ I_ missed this and I am bar-none the stodgiest, most hidebound, most ice-cold Master the Jedi have to offer. // <> //We've already discussed this, friend. // <> Qui-Gon didn't want to answer, so instead he settled the freestanding double-boiler between them and powered it up. Soon a sticky syrup was boiling away between them. Next he arranged two marble tiles and a set of scrapers on either side of the boiler. Last, he put a box of tongue depressors in easy reach. One look at Kourt told him the issue had not been forgotten. <> //I'm trying, Kourt. I really am. He just can't seem to get it into his head that he's worthy of love. I don't know what to do, except to be patient with him, love him as best I can…he deserves better. Kourt, I…I've never been in love before. Not like this. I don't know how to win another's heart. // Qui-Gon blushed from top to toe. Kourt began stirring the syrup; drawing it up in a dipper and letting it cascade slowly back into the pot. <> //Oh, Kourt! That was kid stuff! I can't go around sending him flowers and sneaking presents into his bedroom! He'd laugh in my face! // <> That startled Qui-Gon so badly he answered out loud. "Oh. He's, well, he's not quite twenty-three, is he?" <> //Oh boy. Um, what do I do? // <> Kourt turned away from him, reaching for the rest of the supplies. <> Qui-Gon watched as Kourt placed a tongue depressor on the marble tile before him and poured a circle of bright red syrup over it. He waited exactly three heartbeats before working it over with his scraper; twisting, shaping and cutting the rapidly hardening candy. He rapped the tile once with the handle of the flat tool and lifted the stick away. "Ha. Rooster. Record time." Sayjil squealed with delight. "Do it again, Master Crowe!" Both the masters turned, surprised. They had forgotten their lone audience member. Kourt handed the lolly rooster over to her, but not before a collection of children came to see what had gotten such a reaction out of their normally quiet and contemplative friend. Noisy demands to 'Do it again! Do it again!' soon filled the garden. The Jedi masters were hard pressed to keep up with the demand. Fish, scopos, lizards, flowers of all sorts and the odd mistake that couldn't be readily identified but was pretty good to eat anyway were produced at a fast clip. Sayjil was pressed into service to keep the syrup pot filled. Qui-Gon was laughing and chatting with the children around him when suddenly all fell silent. He looked around to see Corubia and Obi-Wan staring down at their masters. Sayjil leaned close to him and whispered, "Busted!" The Padawans did not look amused. They did not speak their displeasure, rather kept the conversation internal, but mentally projected though the link to their Masters. **Well. I guess this is one more area we'll have to abandon to get a little peace. ** Obi-Wan's thoughts were bitter. :: I heard you on that one, brother. I guess we'd better go back to the library. At least we're marginally needed there.:: Obi-Wan slung their dyebox strap over his shoulder and they turned on their heels in unison, making for the door to the Temple corridor. //Oh skies, Kourt, I didn't think…// <> It was Sayjil that saved the Masters. "Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan! You can't go yet!" She chased after the two Padawans, face stricken. "You PROMISED!" Obi-Wan turned on the little girl, schooling his expression to mildness. "And did you keep your end of the deal?" he inquired, clearly seeking a way out of his oath. "Sure did." She chirped. "Look, here's first generation and second, here's the scales, just like you said…oh. Oh, I'm sorry, Padawan Kenobi. You have somewhere to be. I didn't mean…" Sayjil tucked her lightslate under her arm and fought a valiant fight with disappointment. "Next time. I'll…try to remind you next time." Qui-Gon was floored by what happened next. Obi-Wan sank to his knees and drew the girl in for a hug, cuddled her for a long moment and then settled down on the grass. "Never think that I am too busy to keep my word to you, Sayjil. Come on, Cor. I can't do this alone." The children around them quickly decamped to where the Padawans settled in on the grass. Whispers of 'They're doing the Dragon, look, c'mon. The Dragon!' filled the air. The Masters followed the children to watch. Qui-Gon had never seen the like. Obi-Wan and Corubia worked seamlessly, with no perceptible communication, even at the subvocal level. Obi-Wan prepared a yellow wad of taffy while Corubia came in behind him with a sharp carving knife. Where he stretched and pinched, she cut and shaped. The blade passed within a hairsbreadth of his fingers, but they never faltered or slipped. Now Obi-Wan cut, teasing and scoring scales while Corubia gave final shape to the wings. A flurry of flicks and tucks, and a final twist, then a rampant dragon reared its snarling head, wings unfurled, tail gripping the skewer, one claw raised in defiance. This was swiftly painted in greens and reds, then handed over to the waiting Sayjil. She hopped up and came to show it to the Masters. "See? They only do this for you if you're really special." She looked at her lightslate and temporized, "Or if you did something just right, like my flowers. It's my flowers that are special." Qui-Gon's heart thudded. He saw clearly in this child what he hadn't really been able to see in Obi-Wan. The aching need for approval, the self-doubt and worry, fear of failure, hope for success all colliding in a mind too caught up in its own concerns to recognize its own needs. Understanding only the drive to please, to earn love. Qui-Gon knelt down on the ground with Sayjil, took her hand and whispered. "You're special. It's you that's special, not the flowers. And if a dragon is what special people get, I have some work to do. Don't let Obi-Wan leave." She nodded, dashed back over to the Padawans and planted herself on Obi-Wan's lap. Qui-Gon heard her chattering away, filling his ears with whatever she had thought of. The Jedi's heart swelled, watching Obi-Wan's care of her, his focus on her interests even as Corubia began gathering up their things once more. //That boy's too wonderful by half.// Qui-Gon poured a long, wide pool of syrup. <> //Dragons are for special people.// The scraper fair flew over the hardening candy, cutting and scoring, making filigree and angle, bending into three dimensions the shape in Qui-Gon's mind. <> Kourt asked. //I only know this kind, without the wings. I hope it's good enough.// Qui-Gon bit the tip of his tongue, concentrated on getting the long mustaches just so, made the undulations as even as possible, the tail and claws as elegant as anything he'd ever seen in painting or sculpture, brought the Force to bear on the syrup as his time ran out, adding scales and a happy glint to the Dragon Lolly's eyes. He rapped the marble tile once and lifted it free. <> //He deserves better.// Still, it was the best he could do on short notice. The light glittered through the scarlet red candy, creating the illusion of gilt and movement as Qui-Gon approached Obi-Wan. "Padawan, I…" he stopped. "Obi-Wan, Koateleu, I…" he stopped again, knelt down by Obi-Wan, drew a deep breath. "I made this for you, especially. And I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me tonight. Not here, there's a lovely restaurant in the Ds'hvala district, if you'd be so kind as to accompany me." **Did you just ask me out on a date?** Even Obi-Wan's inner voice was high-pitched with shock. //Yes. Will you go?// Obi-Wan's fingers closed over Qui-Gon's as he took the Dragon Lolly. "Oh yes. Absolutely." And he leaned forward to kiss Qui-Gon full on the lips. "Ugh, mushy stuff," Sayjil assessed, but stayed where she was, so as not to disturb the two. It was the chirp of Obi-Wan's comm link that finally interrupted them. "Kenobi." **What time?** //I'll pick you up at seven. Now, do you think you can beat me and Kourt at making candies or not?// **Any day, any way, Master.** Qui-Gon left his apprentice to take his call. And to get a head start on making treats. ***************************** "Darnit, Kenobi! If you don't hold still I'll never get this thing tied right." Corubia undid the sash and started again. "I don't see why I have to go through with all this," Obi-Wan groused. "Because it's a date, you nitwit. Darn it! Okay, turn around and look in the mirror. I'll have to do it that way." She positioned Obi-Wan in front of the full-length mirror and started the elaborate process of tying his inner sash once more. "You need to dress nice." "But … formal? I look like a noble." "Exactly, little bro. He's trying to, you know, romance you. Give him something to work with." Corubia finally got the rebellious kimono tie exactly as she wanted it and secured it with a silver pin. "Oh no! If that's what this is about, you can forget it. I'm going to put on my field uniform and wear a sack over my head." Obi-Wan tried to escape but found himself suddenly seated under a lapful of Corubia. She pinned him to the chair and stared at him from nose-length distance. "If you didn't want this, why did you accept this date? Hmm?" she waited. When no answer was forthcoming, she continued. "And if he didn't want this, why would he have asked?" "Oh." "Oh is right. Now get your stockings on while I find a nice outer robe. I want something blue to go with that charcoal." "Explain to me again how you got a key to Clothing Storage? This stuff is supposed to be for undercover operatives." Obi-Wan pulled on the thin silken socks, admiring the way they accentuated his leg muscles. His clothes were all of very fine silk and suited him quite nicely. Corubia had done something to his hair to make it fall in soft waves where it was long enough to hold shape. His braid was still secured in his tail, but otherwise, he found the effect to be rather appealing. "Friends in low places, little bro. Here we go! See if this fits." ************** "I don't see why I have to go through with all this," Qui-Gon groused as Kourt circled him, winding the wide outer sash in an elaborate pattern. "You're the one who invited the kid to the 'Whispering Plum Blossom'. And don't try to tell me you're NOT taking him there. I know you too well." Kourt stepped back to admire his handiwork. "You look good in silver. I can see why you chose it all those years ago." "This isn't funny, Master Crowe. The last time I wore this stuff you would have fallen down laughing at the idea of my becoming a Master. How do you talk me into these things?" "Oh no, this was all your idea, Qui-Gon. Now come here, we have to do something with your hair." Kourt steered Qui-Gon to his desk chair and began undoing the leather thong. "And I never laughed at the idea of you becoming a master. Despaired of you surviving our nightlife? Yes. Three times a week, minimum." "We were a couple of wild ones, weren't we?" Qui-Gon mused. "Still are, when we get the chance. The only drawback is that we've been banned from every club and bar worth going to on this planet and we never get offworld together anymore. There! Perfect!" Kourt handed Qui-Gon the mirror. "No. Try again. I'm not going for the 'Warrior' look this time. Panther, not Lion, okay?" Qui-Gon slapped the mirror down on the desk. "There's still one club we're allowed in, you know." "Not for lack of trying. If anyone good enough to get into Seceria ever acts up enough to get thrown out, I'll eat my boots." Kourt replied. "Sooo what are you saying? Is that a challenge?" Qui-Gon looked through a box of hair ornaments, trying to select one. "Nah, not really. Besides, you can only incite an orgy in one place so often before it becomes cliché. And anything beyond that, well, we are Jedi Masters now," Kourt sighed regretfully. "But there's nothing to stop us from teaching our Padawans the way they should go." Qui-Gon brightened considerably at this idea. And at the thought of his Padawan. "Do you think he'll enjoy it? I don't have any idea what kind of treatment he's expecting." "Professional opinion? Your Padawan spends 90% of the time thinking he deserves to be kicked just on general principle." "Really?" was Qui-Gon's dry return. "And in what pursuit does he spend the other 10%?" "Um, being kicked. Hadn't you noticed?" "To my shame, I did not notice until quite recently," Qui-Gon admitted. "Okay, so you can make up for lost time. Protect him from other people's boots and his own. He'll soon find he has nothing to fear from yours." **************** "No. No fan. I absolutely refuse. And no keebu hat, either. That's for old men. I might be stuffy and boring, but I'm not old yet." Obi-Wan crossed his arms in a gesture of finality. "Oh, all right. Come on, let's have a look at you," Corubia steered him to stand in front of the full-length mirror once more. "Well. You know what? If I'd seen you dressed like that before now, I'd've gone after you myself." "Come on, Corubia! I'm your brother! You're my sister! Ew." "Yeah, on moral grounds, ew, but look at you!" Corubia turned the harsh fluorescents off and let the warmer, more natural chiplights illuminate the reflection. They had decided against white or brown, choosing a softer, textured charcoal for the pants and inner robes. An outer robe of midnight blue silk offset the brilliantly white sleeves of the undershirt. The silver pin was the only new thing that could be construed as jewelry, although Corubia had tried to add another ring to 'balance' the one he already wore. Obi-Wan would have blended nicely at any social dinner or state ball. He looked elegant, refined, gentlemanly. "Wow. I look…good." Obi-Wan said, surprised. "To say the least. Come on, we have to get back to my place before Qui-Gon comes to pick you up." Corubia scooped his belongings up in one arm. "Now remember, you're the pursued here, so act like it." "Act like it?" "You know what I mean, Kenobi. And forget being Jedi. This is personal time, the 'beyond all that' bit. Oh, and your date's name is 'Qui-Gon', not 'Master'." Corubia threw a glance over her shoulder. "See if you can get him to dance with you. You're a very good dancer." "You should know. We learned together." "And Qui-Gon taught us, so don't sweat it. Of course, if he does get up the guts to actually ask you, I owe Master a credit. I don't think he will." "Why not?" Obi-Wan demanded. He could think of a great many reasons, not the least of which being that they were talking about his master. He just wanted to know Corubia's reason. "I think he's totally forgotten everything he used to know. Your master was quite the swain when he and Master were partners. Got reprimanded twice for raising hell in some of Coruscant's less reputable nighttime entertainment establishments. You will not be visiting those tonight, so don't worry about it." Corubia said this with just a little too much authority. "You two set this up, didn't you?" Obi-Wan accused. "No, really, we didn't. We thought about it, collectively hoped for the past week, but no, this is all his doing. And yours," Corubia replied. "But I think Master remembers enough of his own experiences to correctly assess what Qui-Gon has planned for you." "Well? What does he have planned?" Corubia just headed for the laundry hamper, humming under her breath.