"Master Kenobi!"
The pounding in her chest did not betray the urgency in her voice. The heat rushing through her blood was like bubbling magma beneath the surface of her skin, threatening to pour out of her and run a jagged pathway down the parastone floors of the Jedi Temple courtyard. The ringing in her ears was stronger than the force itself – she was compelled by some unseen effort, urging her forward – as if the force itself was thrusting her every step and pushing her, crying out deep within her soul. Everything she knew betrayed her – every ethic and ever principle of the Jedi Code was thrown out the proverbial window as she saw him begin to leave the courtyard.
The whole earth moved slowly, as if in a captured moment of relativity that played over and over in a motionless cycle. Her legs burned with ache, feeling more like stone pillars shaking themselves from cement than her own appendages. The air seemed to breathe, moving in and out as she took in the oxygen into her lungs; which likewise burned as if swallowed in sulfur. Every nerve pulled tight throughout her body and screamed with a newfound, painful fear. She felt literally torn in two – everything she knew about herself was lost, and everything she knew about being A Jedi suddenly became nill. It didn't matter, because the hitching of her chest was all that she could think about; the swirling of her stomach and the tears burning a trail down her cheeks.
He wasn't stopping, paying her any attention. Briefly she considered that this was a dream – that these months under his teachings had been nothing but wishful thinking. That studying his movements and his intellect and his finesse had been concoction's of a young, desperate girl's mind – a young mind deprived of acceptance and passion and romance. She had been studying with other Jedi under Obi-Wan Kenobi's tutelage – in ways of the force, combat technique and proficiency, more practical forms of light-saber combat. He had been introduced to them on a sabbatical away from his Open Circle Fleet, a reprieve from the war to gather and recollect himself as a Jedi. He had volunteered to conduct an intensive study program for whomever would like to attend and better understand the attributes of having presence as Jedi in a war. It had been organized to test and prepare Jedi for the coming time where they too may have to go to war and lead – to prepare them for their next steps in the Republic. For the students attending, it would define their experience with the Republic and its Senate, and its war.
She had leapt at the chance wholeheartedly to study under a Jedi such as Obi-Wan Kenobi. His reputation – which, he humbly denied – preceded him on all counts. He was one of the most proficient force users within the Order; he practiced it with finesse and ease as if it were a part of him and not something which he needed access too. Kenobi wielded the force like it was an extension of himself – like no one she had seen. He navigated mind tricks and persuasion as if he himself had invented them – the mind became open to him like a book of his choice. While others, such as his former padwan Anakin Skywalker, were strong in the force when they yielded it; Kenobi himself was strong in the force in just presence alone. He understood it eloquently and passionately, and approached it openly and romantically. It was as much a part of him as he was it.
However, she had not expected to fall into such favor with him so quickly. Immediately he had singled her out as a star pupil and had seen her potential. She became the object of his lessons and the mannequin of his lectures; the extension of his teaching. There were nine others in the audience of students under his study, but she may as well have been the only one. He kept solid eye contact with her and addressed her by name, individually. He used her examples and her work – asked her rhetorical questions and simulated responses. He pulled her out of the audience and had made her an example of the rest. While it had all been glorious, it had been terrifying at the same time. For more than one reason.
Not only had their time within the classroom been meaningful – never before had she learned so much from one human being – their time outside the classroom was meaningful, as well. She had often found herself at his side, conversing with him on the politics of the war and goings on of the Jedi; they discussed ethics and morality, virtue and religion. Passion came and went in conversation as if it were breathing itself. And the ways of the force – those were topics she had found him most passionate about, most dedicated to. He was as much a student as she was beside the force, and she'd found the sparkle in his eye most becoming when they'd walked in the gardens of the Temples talking about the Old Republic and the Jedi of old.
He had taken in her another padawan, she assumed – or, perhaps a friend. She was a Knight by all respects but had never been stationed in the war; always on Coruscant teaching younglings or serving diplomatically. He, however, had treated as if she were an equal on all respects and listened to her contently, pondered her thoughts and counter argued her observations respectfully. Their talks became longer as the weeks had progressed into months, soon turning into strolls, then lunches. Their lunches became sessions, and their sessions became lessons. And, before she had known it, he was teaching her all over again. Whether it was in force abilities or philosophy, he taught her personally and intimately – sharing bits about himself that she got the idea he would not so readily share with her class. He told her stories, she asked him questions. And the roles reserved, day after day.
Until, their sessions turned into combat trainings – he trained her in the arts of the lightsaber, and she helped him fine-tune his hand-to-hand martial skills. He sharpened her observations, and she challenged his speed. They pulled from one another new lessons each and every time they engaged in a new endeavor, until it had become expected. Regular. Routine.
Personal.
And then, before she had known what had happened, he had invited her to his quarters to discuss books. She hadn't known he loved literature, or that he'd kept a collection of the finest works she'd never seen. He had invited her back that first time after a sparring match of lightsaber technique in the training grounds, when no one had been around. Everyone was either on assignment or engaged with the Senate – no one had bothered to take notice of their time spent together, ever. And, thus, no one had noticed the high irregularity when he'd asked her to his quarters to discuss Twi'leki poetry.
It had opened a new level of their relationship – no longer remained the Master/apprentice dynamic, but entered in a new understanding of friendship. She was now his equal; his acquaintance. No longer was she an assignment or a student, no – she was his friend, a reliable source of emotional engagement and confidence. It was thrill she had never anticipated nor experienced before with a man – and the dynamic brought with it an entire new set of emotions she had not known existed.
All of her life she had been warned against passion – that it betrayed the soul and the heart and the will. Passion and emotion were ways of the weary and hot-headed; they brought trouble and led to the dark-side. To delve into one's emotions was a dangerous act and unbalanced the mind, the Order had said; it waged consequential wars that one should not be willing to contemplate. It was an action of chaos – sudden, unprepared, uncontrolled. The force was strengthened in dedication, servitude, peace, and control – not fleeting emotions and decisions made in haste. Emotions led to attachments, and attachments forced selfishness and selfish tendencies. One did not think when in the face of attachments – they felt, and feelings betrayed reason. All a very delicate balance to navigate, she had realized in her younger years – delicate, and not to be tampered with.
But, she could not help but feel passion in these moments of intimacy with Obi-Wan Kenobi. And, she could tell that he too had fallen from the wayside – the twinkle in his eyes and the passion in his voice betrayed all knowledge of the Jedi Code and its precepts. They had talked about their own understandings of passions, and their own feelings on the matter of attachments within the force – and both had agreed that if one was willing to lay their life down for another because of love or some other form of attachment, that passion in that sense was not wrong. It was when passion led to greed and power that it became dangerous – when it led to the loss of honor and control.
And soon, she realized, she had begun to anticipate their meetings on a deeper level. She caught herself thinking about Kenobi outside of his presence – caught herself daydreaming about him and his adventures; their time together, the poetry he so romantically pursued. She had begun to think of him as more than a Jedi and more than a friend – he was a man. And she was a woman. Two so diametrically opposed forces that were thrown into the world to navigate together, not apart. Men and women were created to love and to prosper together; to join and become one on the behalf of the betterment of the universe. It was through them that the generations came and that dedication and honor was built.
She had remembered her first realization of Obi-Wan Kenobi being a man clearly – it never ceased to betray her. They had been dueling rigorously in a sparring match, working on force-pulls and pushes in the midst of single-blade dueling. It had been an hourly, meticulous match to be certain – they had shed more clothing than one would have probably considered appropriate. They had been sweating to the point of becoming drenched – his hair damp and his beard dripping; her curls pinned to her face and the back of her neck as if they had been glued there. She had become oddly aware of his strength and the flesh that peeked out from the laces of his crepe tunic – oddly aware and oddly satisfied, mostly curious. She had never seen a man's chest before, and it had flared a spark of curiosity within her. She had become strangely entranced by his movements and the physicals details of his body in ways she had never been before. It had terrified her.
She had taken her fears to meditation, only to find them increased. He was in her meditation, too – guiding her and flashing before her visions. His voice was rooted in the serenity and quiet of her mind, his laughter ringing in the silence. She felt his presence even at a distance, and the rush of adrenaline that kickstarted her heart every time she thought about him. He followed her into her dreams as well and plagued her there – teaching her and sparring with her and laughing with her. Though, while it terrified her – it left her desperate for more of him, and awkwardly drawn to his side.
He had noticed, too. She had seen the shifting glances at her in the classroom before the others, and had noticed that he had backed away from her more than he ever had before. It horrified her that he might now of her secret attraction to him, but also it terrified her. If he was as loyal a Jedi as she assumed him to be, he would immediately take her before the Council and have her either exiled or reconditioned. Attachments were forbidden, as was romance or anything other than friendship – which, even then, if not properly navigated, became a problem. It broke a part of her away knowing that he had sensed it and had chosen to back away from it. It had been going on for weeks now, his distance from her. Though he had never turned her away, he did not approach her like he once had. Though, however, she noticed his eyes were as deep and welcoming as they always had been. They called to her as they had before, in the beginnings of their friendship. And they still called to her, even though he had put her at arm's length.
She wondered if it was her fault – if she had pressed into him too much and hadn't noticed. Or if she had been desperate and had failed to control her emotions, as a good Jedi should. Briefly the thought had crossed her mind that she had willed him into this and had been brash in their friendship; had taken too much and given far more of herself than would be considered appropriate within the Order. Perhaps he had not thought twice about taking her under his wing, and now was facing the consequences by sensing the shift in the force. Because there had been a shift. A big one – and they'd both known it, for some time.
She didn't want this to be her fault – she didn't want to have been the reason for his downfall, if there was one. She didn't want him to back away from her and keep her at arm's length, nor did she want him to doubt himself as a Master. She wanted him to succeed and be stronger, to glean from this experience as much as she had. If she could take all this back and reverse things, she would've – anything to bring the Kenobi back that she had known in the beginning days of this friendship; the beginning foundations. She desperately had to fix this.
But the way he looked at her, spoke her name, talked with her all were implications that she was more to him than just a student. She was more than a fellow Jedi; more than a bright girl with a strong future in the force. She was more to him than an endeavor; than a project, than a reprieve of the war. She was someone. Someone he had invested himself in, someone he had entrusted bits of his past with, someone who he had relished in his personal passions beside. The way he carefully guided her in technique and the genteel touches; the side-looks in class, the smiles and welcoming energy he conveyed outside the confines of lecture all were subtle clues that Obi-Wan Kenobi knew her like he had never known someone else of the opposite sex – she wasn't a Jedi to him, nor was she just a friend. She was a woman, and he knew it. And he had liked it.
She wasn't daft. No man could watch a woman shed so many clothes during a duel and not look twice – he was, after all, no god. He was a hot-blooded man just as the next was, and she had noticed the small looks, the uncomfortable bristle when she pinned him on the floor beneath her in hand-to-hand spars; the way their bodies meshed together perfectly as he perfected her form in balance trainings and force-ability. The lingering of his hands on hers during meditations; the way he instantly engaged when she read poetry. To any other person who didn't know him it was perhaps unseen, but to her – it was relevant and it was clear.
They, however, hadn't spoken of it. Of any of it.
And now, he was walking away after the months of foundation that they had built. He was walking away back to the war, back to the Jedi – back to the way things were. He was leaving her behind as a memoir of a much-needed reprieve and perhaps a much needed rejuvenation. She would be nothing more to him than an accomplishment now, as she knew when he went back to war and began to refocus his efforts that she would fade away out of his mind in her absence. The Jedi in him would take over, and reason would get the better of him and convince him that he had been wrong and had staggered away from the beaten path. The man in him would be lost.
What she had built in him would be gone.
And now, as she dashed down the steps of the Temple and into the gardens their friendship had known so well, she herself was gone out of reason. Her mind was left in the lecture room, where he had said his good-byes to the class and dismissed them; and looked on her with such grief and desire that it had killed her. She was almost certain now the Jedi within her had died under his stare, right there in that lecture hall. She had died and had followed him; her reason and the Code thrown out that blasted proverbial window.
The Coruscant morning was crisp and quiet – the Temple's activity had yet to rise in the early beginnings of the morning, where so much would birth into the day. Where so much would die into the night. Her eyes were burning with tears now; her heart screaming in beat with her running. Her legs pushed hard like they never had before – as if the monsters of her past were chasing her, the monsters of the originality of things – the way things would become if he left nipped at her heels. She was choking on air now, all the techniques of breathing lost to her in her desperate attempt to catch up to the only thing that had ever truly been hers.
"Master Kenobi!" Her voice cracked this time, it breaking under the straining of her pounding pulse. She began to slow, him a few yards ahead of her; heading into the Alderaanian roses where they had first begun this adventure together. She was sure her heart was slipping out of her ribcage and into her knees now, as she watched his back to her as if it were a brick wall. She stopped all together, watching him go, and reached out a hand, hanging her timbre cracked again, this time it dropping into a whisper.
"...Obi-Wan."
He stopped.
For a moment she had thought he would came her raging mad, but when he didn't move, she realized that it had been the first time his given name had slipped off her tongue. It was as foreignly delicious on her own tongue that it had been in her mind – it tasted sweet, saying it. There was a strength in the name she had never before noticed in the thinkings and ponderings of her own self. She, with her hand still extended and head bowed, reached out to him into the force in such a way she had never done before: she reached for his very heart, his very being.
The force moved; pounded like a wave through her body, and threw her in a thousand different directions as she felt its connection with him. She didn't open her eyes, nor move any muscle. She chanced breathing, and found it impossible – her entire body was cemented, rigid in place as she navigated this newfound level of the force she had never known before. She felt the force around him – that same familiar strength and peace, and thrust herself into it –
-and crashed through, like a bombardment.
His acceptance of her had been unanticipated, and had rocked her in the force. She staggerd to stand as she felt him welcome her; felt the force spur her forward in her attempt to connect with him. It licked up every trace of breath she had in her lungs and forced her to come up for air. She gasped in a breath and staggered forward again as he came rushing towards her in his own strength in the force, washing over her in waves and power she had never before witnessed. She found herself powerless to his advances, but struggled to stay standing nonetheless. She could feel herself begin to intertwine with him and creep into the corners of him that the Jedi had hidden away; she felt him open those places to her and beckon her inside. Her head began to swim as he called her name in the force, his voice floating around her and finally thrusting itself into the pit of her stomach so forcefully that she gasped, staggered forward, and savagely hit the ground on her knees, crippled.
A burning nestled itself on her skin and savagely possessed every possible part of her body in ways and in feeling she had never discovered. Parts of herself came alive; her heart flared and then soured, her knees turned to some type of gelatin substance. She felt her breathing quick and her heart kick into high gear. Her body began to tremble as his presence ravaged her core – and she let out a screaming sob and doubled over when he wrapped himself around her heart. She gasped and threw out an arm to catch herself from falling face-first into the stone of the garden courtyard.
Obi-Wan released her then, and the connection was broken. She gasped again, moaning at the sudden pain shooting through her body. The lightheadedness that accompanied the connection's exit was unexpected and severe – she couldn't see straight, as the world spun in a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. She picked up her breathing, trying to reacquaint herself with its techniques, and put a shaking hand to her chest – she felt herself trembling, her heart quaking. An odd sense of desire and want pitted itself in her ribcage, and she looked up when every part of her body began to scream.
He was approaching her, quickly. So quickly, that he was at her side in a breath. The world was still swaying and she couldn't make out a decent picture of him to save her own soul if it had been required of her. He knew this, and took her hand in his own and pulled her close, wrapping his other arm around her shoulder. She somehow collided with what she assumed was his chest and managed to wrap her arm around his torso. Her nostrils filled with his familiar scent, which was mixed with the aroma of the gardens. He was rigid and strong, like a pillar of power. He sat motionless with her in his arms until her vision began to clear and the lightheadedness passed. Only once her body began to settle from the connection did she pull back from him and look up into his face. She hadn't noticed she was covered in a sheen coat of sweat until she felt her curls plastered to the side of her cheek where she'd been resting against his chest.
She swallowed thickly, her throat closing off. What was she to say to him, now? He had put himself upon her in the force and opened a connection with her that had only been in the rumors of the Council – never before had a force connection built solely on sexual attraction been established before within the Jedi. They both knew it, as the evidence was written all over his face. It was oddly satisfying and safe. She swallowed again, then broke their gaze to look at her hand in his for a brief moment. He too did the same, and slowly interlaced their fingers. She looked back up to him carefully.
"I know," he stated calmly, "I have known for a long time."
Their connection and allowed him to sense her thoughts and feelings, and he had. His tender eyes scanned hers momentarily before he took his other hand and moved aside a curl that had managed to fall in her face. He hovered over her, even still on their knees, and his fingertip moved along her temple and down her cheek to come to a rest at her chin, where he took it graciously between his fingers and tipped it up. She felt speechless and overcome all at once, and she began to shake again under his stare. While she had begun to shake she had not feared him for a moment – instead, she welcomed him, and relished in every one of his movements, marking them in her mind for a later date, never to forget a one.
They were silent a long time, him just staring into her eyes, and her into his. She found a piece of him – a pool of him – that she had never seen before. She assumed that this was the Obi-Wan Kenobi that the Jedi had killed; that the Jedi had forced into confinement. This was the raw emotion and passion that every Jedi lacked and betrayed. This was him, unleashed, without barriers. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever witnessed.
A smile pulled at the corner of his lips. "You are perhaps the most stunning thing I have ever witnessed," his breath fell over her face and snatched away her resolve. His statement fell away as a Coruscant breeze brought to life their surroundings. She didn't know what to say – didn't know what to think. So many had begun swirling through her –her lips began to burn, so close to him. She thought for sure he would kiss her – she could feel him playing the idea through his mind, thinking about it in the force. It was present and incoming.
Surprisingly, she was able to compose an intelligible statement. "It's forbidden," she breathed, "we'll be exiled –"
-he silenced her with a sharp pull back of her head, and pressed his lips against her own. The thought vanished instantly from her mind. He moved his lips carefully along her own, navigating a new territory that he had never been prepared to handle, and he positioned himself over her on his knees, his cloak now almost entirely enveloping them both. His warmth and taste sparked a new arrival of emotions inside of her, first starting in the chest and spreading down into her stomach, only to anchor in the pit of her very core. She moved her hand to his face and ran her fingertips along his beard, and his hand cupped around her cheek and his fingers played with the curls behind her ears. The sounds of the world, one by one, slipped away; replaced instead by the sound of his movements and his heartbeat, which she could so clearly hear and understand.
And then, he did the unexpected – he thrust his tongue into her mouth and traced her lower lip in a rush. The sensation triggered a bodily response from her, one that arched her back and elicited a tiny gasp of surprise from her throat. She pulled away suddenly, so overcome with the sensation that he had to swiftly move his hand to her waist to keep her where she was. She began to relax once he retracted his tongue from her mouth, and he parted from her in a breath, his lips still hovering over her own temptingly. They both began to renavigate the workings of breathing, and her eyes moved to his lips again before finding his own again. "- you kissed me," she whispered low.
He chuckled and played with the hair behind her ear again, "That I did," his eyes fell from her own to her lips as well, as if contemplating the action again, "and I am inclined to do so again."
Her eyes widened at him, "It's forbidden, Obi-Wan –" long gone were the days of him being Master Kenobi to her now – he was Obi-Wan, her equal; hers. They had both crossed the diametrically opposed line set forth before them from birth – and there was no going back now, as she read it in his eyes. "- The Council will exile us both."
He smiled at her and scanned her eyes again, reaching to wrap a curl around his finger, "If we both believed that, we would not be where we are at this moment." He cupped her cheek in his hand again, and brushed his thumb over her lips delicately, "This is an act of the force, my darling," he chuckled now, "and one cannot deny the act of force. As I have taught you, and as you have taught me."
She closed her eyes and wrapped her hand around his wrist, feeling every part of him in ways tat she had never before experienced. She inhaled a deep breath and nodded slowly, opening her eyes again to find him. "How fortunate I am to have had such a teacher as you, Master," her voice quaked at the mention of his superiority of her in the force.
"And how fortunate I am as to have a student such as yourself, my dear student."
She was again lost unto him, as he kissed her yet again in every new way imaginable.
Diametrically opposed: Two points directly opposite each other on a circle or sphere.
Summary: The Master and student are a diametrically opposed dynamic. There are many standards and virtues that would bring them together, as well as principles that would keep them apart. In most circles of the Jedi, that is. But, she was his student in more than one way - and she was his Master, in many more ways than that. [Kenobi/OC].