.                        Snow and Cinder
                  Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series
                         by HiperBunny
                        (message 5 of 5)
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


You are closer to me now, my Master.  I know not your intent, but
your proximity is changing.  That bond we share is not stretched
so thin as to be strained now.  There are lessons to be taught
and learned between us still.

Methos had appointments to keep in the village, and has left me
to split more wood for him.  I tried to use the axe but give up
quickly before I manage to chop off my foot.  It is apparently a
learned behavior.  So I use the Force in a way I never would have
expected before coming to this cold place.  It seems I still have
things to learn, and in that, you were right, my Master.

I'm not sure how long I've been at this, but there's a right
large pile of split wood now, and I actually feel weary from the
effort of holding my concentration in the Force.  And I hear
voices, from inside the house, Methos' of course, and another
that I recognize with an ice cold hand around my heart.  How
could you have managed to be here without my knowing?

"...and I thank you for sheltering Obi-Wan," you are saying. 
Yes, I shamelessly eavesdrop; I'm too shaky to face you yet.

"Ah."  A laugh and I can see his eyes sparkling in my mind.  "So
that's his name."  When he continues, I can imagine it's because
of an expression on your face.  "He never offered, I never
asked.  Sometimes it's better that way.  He was hurting pretty
bad when I found him."

"I-I know.  It was my fault..." your voice sounds different, my
Master.  Softer, less sure of yourself than usual.  And in
feeling you through the Force, I can tell, you're not done
healing.  Why would you have come here so soon after being so
close to death?

But Methos is still talking.

"Yes, I know.  He told me all about it.  And I have to tell you,
if you're here just to hurt him more, you're going to have to go
through me to do it." Methos' voice sounds almost rueful in that,
and I smile.  Who would have thought my deamon lover could be so
possessive and sheltering?

Why aren't you answering that, Master?  For you haven't.  There's
just silence and the wind blowing stinging snow crystals into my
eyes.  Slowly I begin moving around the side of the house to the
front door, drawn against my will to the tableau inside.

I move inside, quickly closing the door against the chill as I
have learned to do over these last few days.  I turn towards the
wall and remove my cloak, hood, scarves and gloves, leaving me in
just my roughly cleaned tunics.  Only then do I turn around to
face the two people in the room.

Methos stands with his back to the sink, leaning on it, his arms
crossed.  He looks...enigmatic.  I can't figure out how he
looks.  But his eyes as they stare at me are kind and comforting.

Sitting at the table is a figure I never hoped to see again. 
It's you, my Master, only suddenly you don't look as large as you
used to.  You seem...shrunken, somehow, hunched over as though
protecting yourself against something.  Protecting your heart. 
Against physical or emotional injury are you trying to protect
yourself, Master?  And your eyes are shadowed; just as with
Methos, I cannot read anything into your posture.

"Hello, Qui-Gon," I say, and I'm quite proud of how my voice
doesn't tremble in the least.

"Pad-Obi-Wan," you acknowledge, never taking your eyes from
mine.  I can tell you want to move.  But tell me, do you want to
move towards me or away from me? 

Silence falls for a time, then Methos clears his throat.  "I'm
going to be outside stacking all the wood you cut for me, Jedi. 
If you need anything..." and as he brushes past me on his way to
his coat, he squeezes my shoulder, tightly.  I pat his hand,
once, then on impulse take it and kiss his palm.

"Thank-you, my Malkavian," I whisper.  He just grins and leaves
me alone to face my fate.

I realize my legs are trembling so I nonchalantly pull out a
chair and sit, facing you across the corner of the table.  We
look at each other for a while, and isn't that interesting, you
are the first to look away.  You are pale, my Master, and your
hands shake until you tuck them into the sleeves of your robe. 
When you do speak, your voice sounds rusty and unused.

"Master Yoda sends his greetings," is your opener, and I shrug
noncommittally.  "He was... less than happy at your leaving, at
my behavior." You rub your knees and hazard a weak grin.  "At
least this I inferred from the times he whacked me."

There's nothing to say to that either, so I don't.  "After you...
left...he came to me and we... talked.  He did, anyway."  You
look around the room, Obviously trying to avoid looking at me. 
I, on the other hand, can look no where but at you, drinking in
your beloved face, and I realize just exactly how much our
separation - your separation from me - has cost me.

"Obi-Wan, I didn't remember much of the fight until recently,"
you say in a rush, and this surprises me.  But I don't reply and
you go on eventually. "Oh, I remembered very clearly that...
thing... kicking you off the walkway above the powerplant, my
anger at that and my satisfaction at smacking him off as well. 
Mostly, mostly I remember trying to protect you."

Wha...?  "Protect ME?  From what?"

You look at me and smile sadly.  "Why, from that creature, of
course.  Obi-Wan, the two of us together could barely hold it. I
was certain that... if you had to face it without me, it would
kill you.  And I couldn't have borne that."

Suddenly, all the puzzle pieces fall into place.  Why I was
unable to use Force-enhanced speed to catch up to you.  Why you
were meditating in the force-fields.  Even why I was able to use
your lightsaber, something I shouldn't have been able to do.  My
mind just shuts down, stunned.

"When I awoke, I had no immediate memory of my injury.  I could
vaguely remember the fight, but not the outcome.  It wasn't until
you... until after you left that my Master came to me and told me
the whole story, helped me regain all my suppressed memories. 
Memories of you almost killing yourself to save me." You swallow
and look down at the table, tracing the grain of the wood with
your eyes.  I'm still too stunned to speak.

"Oh, Obi-Wan, what I said must have hurt you so terribly.  I
didn't realize... I just didn't... oh, no matter what I say, it
won't be enough.  I can't ask you for forgiveness.  But I do ask
that we start again.  I swear, somehow, some way, I'll make it
right to you."

My brain is frozen in ice and is completely non-functional.  I
simply cannot reconcile what I've just been told with the last
few weeks of my life.  I cannot believe that everything I have
gone through, all of it, the anguish, the pain, the despair, is
due to a fucking misunderstanding!  That simply isn't possible,
Master.  You are holding back from me, even now.

I can't bear to look at you any more so I bury my head in my
hands.  The next thing I know is your arms around me, rocking me,
murmuring into my hair.  "Oh, Padawan, my Obi, I do love you, I
never understood, beloved, please..."

Well, that managed to get through, at least.  I grab your arms
with my hands and jerk you up to my face.  "You WHAT?"  I hiss,
suddenly furious.  "You LOVE me?  How is that possible, my
Master?  I'm just a PADAWAN, remember?"

I know I'm clenching your biceps hard enough to bruise, but to
your credit you don't flinch away, either from that or from my
anger.  You swallow and meet my eyes... oh, the pain, the tears
in your eyes are enough to unman me.

"I-I do, Obi-Wan.  I do.  I thought... I thought what you said
was just, you know, a filial love... that you didn't...but you
SAVED me, Padawan, you almost killed yourself to save my life! 
Once I realized that, once I remembered your tears, and your
pain...oh I caused you such pain, my love, and now I know.  How
could you not truly have feelings for me and do something like
that... and-and I'm telling you right now that if you EVER try
something stupid like that again I'm going to..."

I put my hand to your lips, just to make you stop.  I can't bear
to hear this, not now, not after all this.  It is too much.  It
is too little.  Your lips go still under my fingers and I finally
have the silence I need to speak.  "You came all this way, just
to tell me that?" I whisper.  The numbness is spreading from my
brain, down through me, into my heart.  Into my soul.

You sit back on your heels and look up at me, obviously
confused.  An odd situation to say the least.  I can't imagine
what must be going on in your mind, but there is plenty in my own
to keep me occupied.  I have had enough of silent suffering.

"You turn me away, claim another, break my heart and steal my
hope, then come here and say it was just a mistake?  And I'm
supposed to accept that?"  I'm growling now, and the fire pops
behind me, punctuating the words. "Why didn't you stay in your
Temple and send a messenger?  Why did you even bother?  I was
safe here, Qui-Gon.  No one trying to kill me, no one hunting or
hurting or rejecting me... Damn it, I've been HAPPY here..." and
now my voice is cracking with emotion.

My words have fallen on you like a torrent.  You are yet the
mountain, too strong for the rain to weary.  I pause, try to
bring myself under control. You raise your hands, slowly, so
slowly, to cover your heart.  I find myself suddenly, utterly
calm with the unreality of it all.  You are speaking words too
strong for my poor mind to immediately comprehend.

"In my words and deeds, injustice have I done to you."  You place
your palms on the floor, on either side of my feet.  You are
bowing low to me now, until your brow is pressed to my boots. 
Breath will not come to me, and time has slowed around us.

"I, Qui-Gon Jinn do solemnly apologize for the wrongs I have done
to you, Obi-Wan Kenobi.  Before the Light of the Force I beg
forgiveness for these acts of injustice.  I failed to accept you
as my Padawan when first I knew it was our destiny to be Master
and Apprentice.  I caused you emotional pain with this
rejection.  I denied you as my Padawan before the Council and
blocked our bond to prevent you from knowing my shame.  And..."

Even in my stunned stupor I realize you are not done yet and I
wait.  I have no idea what you could possibly be thinking, no way
of stopping what has happened, is happening here.  Finally, you
speak once more.

"...and I denied my true feelings and withheld the love I feel
for you, out of nothing more than fear and selfishness  My soul
is darkened with these sins.  Only you can cleanse me once more. 
I have a debt to you, that I freely acknowledge.  Please, Obi-Wan
Kenobi, take mercy upon me and help me to gain your forgiveness."

There is absolutely nothing else I can do in response to this,
nothing.  So I lean down and slip my hands into your hair.  It is
a blessing, a sacred act, what is happening between us.  I can
feel the Force sparking with our purity, Master.  Can you feel
us, as we were meant to be?  We are on the edge of it, here in
this moment.  I can make all things right between us, if only I
have the courage.  If only I can make the words right.

"Forgiveness is freely given you, Qui-Gon Jinn.  As is my love."

You look up at me and I slip my hands down to cup your face.  You
are close, so close I can taste your breath a moment before I
press my mouth to yours.  Your lips taste of salt, Master, from
your tears and mine, but they are just as soft, if not softer
than Methos' lips.  And they are yours.

I kiss you hard, and your lips yield to mine freely, granting
access to my tongue so that I can taste you, and replying in
turn.  When we break the kiss I bury my head in your neck and
just hold on, tightly, as if my life depended on it and maybe it
does, I don't know for sure.  But finally you take my head in
your hands and gently pull me back to look at me.

"In my letter," you say, "I told you I have no right to ask
forgiveness.  Thank you for permitting me this privilege.  What I
said to you...before... was hurtful and hateful and just heaped
injury upon insult.  I will always, eternally, be regretful for
my words, and not only the words in the infirmary, but also the
words before the Council, before we left for Naboo again with the
Queen, even for my initial rejection of you at Bandomeer.  You
would think an old man like me would learn from his mistakes
eventually, but I guess I probably won't.  I'm sure I'll do
something else some day to hurt you again, too, but I'm going to
try very, very hard to do better from now on, if you give me the 
chance to.

"But please, Obi-Wan, my love, my beloved, no matter what I say,
no matter how I hurt you, know that I love you now and I will
love you forever.  Nothing I say can change that.  Nothing you
do, even if you leave, even if you request another Master, which
is in your rights, none of that can change how I feel..."

Now we're both sobbing, and I'm trying to get a word in edgewise
and I don't even know what it is, and you're shifting to sit on
the floor and pulling me down on to your lap and just holding me
and I know I'm home.  I'm home.

****  

Methos is gone when I finally go to look for him.  Qui-Gon has
returned to our ships to prepare for our return home.  We can't
leave one of them behind, nor do we wish to be separated during
our journey back to the Temple.  He promises to work something
out and I'm sure he will.  My Master is a very resourceful man,
given proper inspiration.  There is something yet to do before I
leave.

I follow the new-broken path through the snow and down to the
beach, where tiny fishing boats are upturned for the winter
wait.  I must step carefully along the icy shoreline, be careful
not to slip and fall upon the slick, wet rocks strewn about. 
Methos is standing down by the waterline, watching the waves
break, giving me all the space I need, to do what I must to do. 
That is done now.  This is done now.  All except one word.

I stop and look at him, all alone in his winter whites.  That
spiky black hair is being molested by the sea breezes,  making
him look like the wild sprite I have come to call him.  As I
watch, he begins to move and I am transfixed by what I see.  He
steps forward, then back, arms coming up into a most familiar
Form, twisting himself through leaps, immobilizing his body to
block, surefooted and confident, even on this treacherous
ground.  His boots kiss the stones like dancing shoes.

His movements are not perfect, for he can not touch the Force,
bring extension and line to completion, nor does he wield a
lightsaber in the parry and strike.  Instead, he moves a sword
about him, floating it through the salty air, as confident and
easy with its weight as I am with the near-weightlessness of my
energy blade.  Without a word I step in beside him, power my
'saber and join the Form at his side.  I am not perfect in this
form, either.  It is an art made for and by a taller man and I
choose not to reinforce my technique beyond what my body can do
on its own.  The sweep and glide of defense, attack, rest and
movement take us far down the beach, away from the boats  and
breakers.  When finally our dissimilar blades rest in the final
position, I turn to him.  "Where did you learn my Master's Form?"
I demand.

"From your Master, of course," and that devilish smirk is back. 
He quickly puts it away.  "There was a time when he, too, needed
the cleansing fire."

I look out over the ocean, up the shoreline.  From here I can
still make out the cliffs Yoda had recommended to me.  "Xanatos?"
I ask.

I don't need to look to know he has nodded.  His hand falls on my
shoulder.  His sword has apparently disappeared and I wonder at
his magic.  Then his long arms slip down around me, bringing his
strong body up against mine once more.   One last time he holds
me.  I keep my eyes on the cliffs.

"I'm glad you didn't go back up there," he says.  "The ones who
do, well, they usually don't need their ships again."

I shrug.  "So you really do keep a jump watch out here?"

I feel his nod against my hair.  "Very few go up twice, that ever
breathe the air again.  Your Master was not a strong swimmer. 
Luckily, I am."

I twist around in his arms, meet his eyes and know the truth of
what he says.  After a long moment, I tuck my head down on his
shoulder and accept what he has entrusted to me.  After a long
moment, he steps back, holding me at arm's length, as he has not
done since I arrived.  "Take care of him, Jedi.  You've both had
too much pain to bear.  Be comfort and pleasure to one another."

I nod dumbly, not knowing how to thank him for all he has done
and given me.

"Send me some beer, if you think of me again," he smiles.  "I'm
not the sort of man who can have too much."

I nod again, and in my heart promise to do at least that, if not
more.  Finally, there is only one thing to say to him, to my
Malkavian, my deamon lover,  Methos, and that is what I came to
tell him anyway.  So I say it, hands clenched tight around his,
remembering the cold, remembering the cliffs, remembering the
fire.  "Goodbye."

He takes his hands back and tucks them in his pockets, turns from
me and walks away down the beach.  To my eyes he looks timeless,
as if this could be any stretch of beach on any world, at any
point in history.  I hope, when the universe is crumbling and the
saviors of the world are in need of good council, one like him
will be there to save men from themselves.  Force will it shall
be so.  I raise my hand in salute, though he can not see me. 
Goodbye, Methos.

May the Force be with you.

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