.                        Snow and Cinder
                  Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series
                         by HiperBunny
                        (message 4 of 5)
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"Tell me exactly what happened, Jedi," the Malkavian encourages
me.  He's been 'encouraging' me for the better part of the day,
plying me with beer and backrubs and mind-blowing sex.  He seems
amused at the turn my mood has taken, but I can not begrudge him
his smile.  The Order is so bound up in its traditions and
customs that it is a strange path to lead the uninitiated upon. 
I have often thought one could discover whether or not one faced
a Jedi by asking him or her a straightforward question.  If the
response is one bound up in obfuscation and riddle - and
apparently guilt - you've got yourself a Jedi.

The beer is doing its job, as is the backrub and I finally
relent.  We haven't much moved from bed today, nowhere to go and
nothing to do but each other.  Not that it hasn't been pleasant,
mind, but even a Jedi needs to catch his breath and recharge
eventually.  My lover is asking me about my true love, an odd
arrangement by anyone's standards.

I turn over and lay back against the pillows. I want to explain
all the traditions involved in the apprenticing of a potential
Jedi, but have no idea where to start.  Finally I settle for "The
Jedi Order is a hidebound, restrictive and anal retentive
collection of traditionalists keeping traditions that no one can
really recall agreeing on, but everyone abides by.  Everyone,
except my Master, that is."

Methos nods and settles down on my chest, waiting for me to
continue.

"You'll hear the phrase 'the Code forbids it' on just about every
subject from what colors we wear to how long we should sleep to
whom we should - and shouldn't - fuck.  But you know the real
irony?  It isn't the Code that forbids.  It's tradition.  Jedi
are very big on tradition," I reach for my beer and find it is
just a little too far to reach.  Instead of shifting Methos to
get it, I levitate it into my hand.

"Do you know that's the second time I've seen someone use the
Force to do something that's actually productive?" Methos asked.

"Doesn't surprise me," I laugh.

He looks up, surprised.  I realize it is my laughter that got his
attention.

"So, tell me about this apology tradition," he nudges me.

I sigh again.  I'm still not sure what I think about all this. 
I'm still not sure if I'm ready to see you again, or if you'll
even come to me.  When I wrote to you, informing you of my
whereabouts, the Force sang with the rightness of it.  That much
is a comfort.  "It might not happen," I hedge.  "If Anakin isn't
my Master's Padawan, he never was.  That means my Master never
broke with me.  That means he can just show up here, and if he
orders me to come with him, I obey."

"What makes you think that will happen?" Methos presses.

I flick my braid down over his nose.  "I was left unshorn.  He
didn't cut the braid, so technically he didn't cut me off."

"Technically?"

I shift away from him, not wanting to admit how well and truly
you have been cut off from me, since that moment in the Chamber. 
I don't think you meant to seal our bond off.  I think you were
hiding, ashamed of what you'd done to me.  Well.  I hope you
were.  If you aren't ashamed of your actions, Master, you're not
half the man I thought you were.  "Yes, technically," I finally
say.  It's not a thing he could ever understand anyway.

"Hmm.  So, say he does come and apologizes?  On his hands and
knees no less.  What then?"

I shrug, with a snort over the incongruity of that picture. 
"Then it all falls to me.  I can choose to accept and return to
his side.  I can choose to forgive, but leave the Order.  I can
choose to withhold forgiveness and seek another master.  I can
choose to leave the order without forgiving.  This may be the one
time in my life where the choice is entirely up to me.  Assuming
he apologizes.  I really don't think he will."

"You'd like it if he would, though?"

And that's the thing, Master.  I really don't know.  I've seen
you as unshakable and unstoppable.  For you to ask my forgiveness
would be for the mountain to bow unto the stone.  I wonder what
takes more strength, though.  Standing tall, feigning pride in a
choice you know to be incorrect.  Or accepting your fault and
trying to make it right.  I suppose I'll just have to listen to
the Force and follow where it goes.

"Jedi?"

"When do you think this storm will be over?  I need to do a bit
of training.  I need to focus." Yes, it is blatantly shifting the
subject away from you.  Too many areas of uncertainty.  Too many
pitfalls yet.  I feel the energy of the winds, the wetness of the
snow in the air outside, echoing though the energy that binds all
things together.  I could estimate the end of this storm to the
hour.  The very minute if I chose.  It's better to speak with
another person, make conversation just now.

"Tonight sometime.  Will you be out under the stars, swinging
that glostick of yours around in the dark?" he grins up at me.

"Well, if I'm not swinging something around here in the dark," I
smirk back.

"There is something you have not yet addressed, Jedi."

I groan at his words.  He's been at me all day, in one way or
another.  When we're not fucking we're arguing.  About you,
Master.  Make no mistake, you are never far from my mind, no
matter how wrapped up I am in this magnificent body currently
beside me.  "What, O wisest of the wise?"

"You're still in love with him."

"Well obviously.  And what do you expect me to do about that,
Revered Deamon?  It happens all the time, a student falling for
their master.  I'll get over it, I'm sure." We both know I'm
lying.  Tell me, Master, why is it often less painful to face a
truth with a lie?

Oh, my.  Is that what you did to me?

"Sublimate it, ignore it, push it aside until you no longer feel
it, maybe.  Get over it?  Ha.  I'll be gray and wrinkled before
that happens," caught up in my own revelation, I finally notice
he's back to snorting his displeasure at me again.

"Not all of us can be filled with fire, Methos.  It would seem
that a few of us need a heart of snow to survive.  Let's not go
on like this.  It's better left alone," I try to kiss him but he
evades me, easily flips me to my back and pins me there with his
hands on my shoulders.

"Are you really willing to accept all this, on these terms? 
Because I sort of thought you weren't quite that stupid," he
says, looking at me with those damned intense eyes of his.

"Don't push it, Malkavian.  There are only two things in this
universe I've ever wanted.  I'm not about to give them both up
just because one of them has been denied me.  I may be stupid,
but I'm not crazy."  I push him aside and get up out of the bed
and go to tend the fire as I have seen him do over the last few
hours.  We're nearly out of wood, I note, and start dressing to
go fetch some from the pile near the door.

I hear him sigh and I hope he's going to let it slide.  I can't
think about what it would feel like to spend the next few years
at your side, aching for you like I do, knowing you know and
knowing you don't care.  My eyes fall on my 'saber where it rests
on the workbench.  Worth it.  Worth any price.   My braid swings
down from my hood, and I tenderly tuck it back inside, protecting
that lock of hair as if it were my life.  With a jolt, I suddenly
realize - it is.  There is nothing else I can hope for, now that
you are not even a wistful dream.

The light shards and splits, making rainbows through the tears
that begin pooling in my eyes.  Ruthlessly I clamp down on the
body functions that produce this reaction.  You can't cry about
everything all the time.  Sometimes you just have to let it go to
the Force.  This time I let it go to the storm as I walk outside
to get more wood.

****** 

When I come back in, Methos is sitting at the dataset.  He looks
up at me, his eyes unfathomable.  "You have more mail, Jedi."

I take a deep breath and release the panic those words bring me
into the Force.  Carefully, methodically, I set down my load of
wood, then take off my outer clothes until I'm once again clad in
simple, light pants.  As I sit at the dataset, Methos presses his
hand to my shoulder reassuringly, then lets me alone.

Of course, it's from you, Master.

*** My Dearest Padawan:

You have no idea how hard it was to start this letter.  You have
every right to refute me as your Master and every reason to do
so.

I ask; no, I beg, that you do not.  I can't pretend to be
anything other than what I am, and apparently that is very
flawed.  I've hurt you, Obi-Wan, and in doing so, I've hurt us
both and damaged something very precious.

I don't ask for your forgiveness.  I have no right to do that,
especially via such a clumsy medium as this letter.  I do ask,
however, that you consent to see me.  We have, I think, much to
say to each other, and I have much to make amends for.  Even if
it takes my whole lifetime, and any other lifetime I may have, I
swear I will somehow manage to atone for what I have done to
you.  I only hope that you can grant it in your heart to give me
that time.

You are, and have been, the best Padawan, the best friend, any
person, Jedi or not, could have asked for.  Please, please let me
come to you, if only to see you one last time.  I ask this not as
your Master, but as a person who cares, who loves you, more than
you can imagine.

Please say yes.

Qui-Gon ***

Well.  There it is then.

I don't know how long I sit at the dataset, looking at your
signature, numb pretty much from the neck up.  I'm so numb, in
fact that Methos actually has to pick up my hand to tuck a cold
glass of his beer into it, then has to hold it to my lips before
I wake up.  I take a long sip, then lower the glass and look into
his eyes.

"He wants to come here.  To talk."  

Methos just nods, then squats by the chair in which I'm sitting. 
"Did he ask you or did he tell you?"

It takes me a minute to realize what he means by that... and I
realize that yes, you could have just sent me a message that said
'I am coming' instead of asking my leave to join me.  You would
have been within your rights, Master, and I suspect you thought
about that well before you sent your letter.

But the Force tells me there is no guile in your letter, that
everything was heartfelt and sincere.  

Methos has given me the time to think, just sitting by my side
and looking up at me.  Finally, I sigh.  "He asked.  And I'm
going to say yes."

So I do.  One word.  For I dare not say more until I see you.

********

The storm has finally stopped and we are dressed and fed.  The
quiet has come again between us, a calm peace that I enjoy.  The
dishes are washed and put away and I reach for my cloak.  "Come
with me, Malkavian, and I'll show you a thing," I smile, holding
my hand to him.

He gives me a bemused look but fetches his coat and follows me
outside.  The village is quiet, we are the only ones about.  I am
a little unhappy with myself, with what I am about to do.  It is
a trick we Jedi can play on those with innocence in them yet.  He
needs to be protected from what games the Force moves us to
play.  "Did you ever have a dream that you were flying?"

He smiles and nods.

"And did you ever think you'd trade your arms for wings?" I
press.

Again, he nods. 

"Then jump for the moon, Methos.  And trust in me."

He turns away, ready to play.  I can see this is a game he's
maybe heard about, or seen before.  The sense of it is that he
has not been given this gift, so I am made happy to give it.

He leaps high, with a shout and I catch him up in my gentlest
embrace, raising him high along the trajectory he has chosen.  My
arms slip into my sleeves, crossed over my chest.  The snow is
above my boots now and the cold is sharp and aggressive.  But it
will not take long, I know, and I want to somehow repay him for
the kindness and love he has shown me.

He spreads his arms above me, a man-eagle shadow against the
starry night.  I provide the safest support as he twists and
tumbles easily, accepting the brushes with death as I subtly
guide his flight.  He is all grace and coordination as he
tumbles.  His laughter is a blessing.  "Jedi!" he cries.  "It
would seem there are some things yet new to me!"

I know not how long I held him there, myself at a calm center, he
at a joyous rapture in the heights.  I only know when his body
begins to grow weary, when his twists are an effort and the
swoops not under his control entirely.  At last I let him fall,
drifting down.  I catch his long frame in my arms, and hold him
as tightly as he holds me.  His beak of a nose is red and cold on
my face, as are his cheeks, but his eyes are dancing with
pleasure and happiness over this little thing I have done for
him.

We return to his house, and he goes inside while I fetch more
wood.  When I come back, he is laying before the fire, naked, his
head propped in his hands a smile still on his face.  I quickly
set down the wood and disrobe, joining him.  "We're going to need
to split more wood at this rate," he murmurs, after I throw
another log on.

"I'll do it for you tomorrow," I promise, kissing and nipping my
way along his collarbone.  He grins in reply and sinks to his
back.

Who is this man, Master, to allow me such access to his beautiful
self?  He asks for nothing in return, not even my name, and
yet... and yet...

Once again I taste the heat of his penis and the salt of his
come, once again I enter that tight, hot channel and claim his
sweet body until I feel like I'm going to explode, until I do. 
He rises to meet every one of my thrusts, and howls along with me
in completion at our shared climax, and then holds me tightly as
I sob in the agony of our ecstasy.  No matter what happens
tomorrow, Master, I will have tonight, I will have this.  No one,
not even you, can take that away from me.

********

--
End: Snow and Cinder ... 4/5
by HiperBunny  ChezBunny@hotmail.com
http://www.shadowynd.com/~chezbunny/index.html
MrsHamill      thamill@mgfairfax.rr.com