Of Strangers Met in a Strange Land

By LuvEwan

—

Then let us turn now — you to me
And I to you — and hand to hand
Clasp, even though our fable be
Of strangers met in a strange land
Who pause, perturbed, then speak and know
That speech, half lost, can yet amaze
Joy at the root; then suddenly grow
Silent, and on each other gaze. -Robert Penn Warren

—-

Obi-Wan Kenobi was quite tired of mud. In his career as a Jedi he had encountered a diverse galaxy of planets, cultures, and life forms, and the one unifying trait between them all was wet dirt. He wagered he had spent a significant portion of his life cleaning his boots. With all that extra time, surely he could have achieved personal enlightenment, or mastered the highest level of kata, or—

Figured out how to dodge miserable missions, perhaps.

He had landed on Bikko as evening fell, at the end of a heavy rain. Now, a few hours into his trek, the air was moist and still. Glow bugs vibrated and burned against the darkness, to imitate the stars above them, little pure and molten things that even Obi-Wan could feel hum with the Living Force. He stopped to drink from his canteen, glimpsing the mild blue moon through a canopy of branches and leaves.

In the natural solitude, Obi-Wan could admit that this assignment made him uneasy. He was a Jedi Knight, unencumbered by personal devotion, seasoned in his role, especially after the last few years. The Universe was shifting. New and unexpected threats battered the Republic and strained the resources of the Jedi Order. Obi-Wan scarcely spent more than a day on Coruscant before being dispatched on another mission.

So it wasn't unusual, Obi-Wan reasoned, that he had not seen Qui-Gon Jinn since his Knighthood. Over the years a few passing nods were exchanged, eyes briefly meeting on a crossed path, but their relationship never evolved the way Obi-Wan always assumed it would. As a Padawan, he had dreamed of the day the legendary Master would regard him as an equal—a friend. Instead he knew only secondhand stories of Qui-Gon and his tutelage of Anakin Skywalker. He could accept that he didn't fit into his former mentor's full life anymore.

The problem was that no one had heard from Qui-Gon Jinn in weeks.

The man was supposed to be on Bikko for a personal retreat. Leave it to Qui-Gon Jinn to choose a mountaintop site, accessible after a long sojourn through thick forest, to spend his sabbatical.

And leave it to the Council to assign me to disrupt him.

He didn't sense distress…he didn't sense Qui-Gon at all. And certainly the Master could manage if he was in danger. It was also possible he was no longer on Bikko, and simply neglected to inform the Council. But Obi-Wan would not shirk his duty, regardless if that duty was needed, regardless if it hurt his heart. He would get proof of Qui-Gon's welfare, report to Master Yoda and await his next assignment.

There was always more work to be done.

Fog drifted across the black sky. His mind seeped with old worries and sentiments, memories resurfacing like debris floating in muddied water after a storm. I should have refused the Council's edict. Qui-Gon would have, if the situation was reversed. Immediately he chastised himself for the bitter rumination and tromped back onto the trail. He owes me nothing. He trained me. Saved my life. What more can I demand of him?

Obi-Wan had no answer, nor was one offered amid the nocturnal buzzing and rustling of the forest. He was frustrated that his thoughts circled again and again to Qui-Gon's willful distance. Jedi forged countless friendships, at the Temple, on missions, only to inevitably be called away by obligation. How many figures had revolved in and out of Obi-Wan's life? To cleave to any individual was against the Code. And foolish.

A true servant of the Force rejects attachment.

Perhaps this was the lesson Yoda sought to teach Obi-Wan by sending him to Bikko over Anakin. The remarkable boy from the desert must be a senior Padawan by now, more than capable of finding his own Master on a peaceful planet. Of course, it was not Obi-Wan's place to question the Council's decisions. His mission briefing was vague, listing nothing of the details behind Qui-Gon's respite, or clues to his current mental state.

The idea of reasoning with Qui-Gon Jinn in any state, confronting or, stars forbid, subduing him, sent cold dread through Obi-Wan's body. In his time as a Knight, he had persuaded tyrants, thwarted assassins and rushed headlong into battle. He knew he could handle Qui-Gon, if the situation demanded it.

He just hoped it wouldn't be necessary.

Obi-Wan gathered the Force around him, allowing its pure energy to clear his mind and dispel his exhaustion. The night was far from over.

—

It had been years since Qui-Gon Jinn last heard the lorngale's call, distinct in its sweet, melancholic softness, a delicate chiming and stirring of memory. It had been years, too, since he had thought of the birds.

He did not want to remember.

Yet the song grew closer, a faint breath in his ear, the Force alight with its notes. He recalled the lorngales and their eyes, an audience and jury and rapture of blue eyes. Another, quieter voice, lifting through the melodic cloud, coming from everywhere, within: Don't.

He choked on a gasp and his eyes flew open. For a moment he floundered in the darkness, expecting to see the sleek walls of his Temple quarters, instead finding the night sky at a noxious tilt, so close he thought he was still dreaming, winging alongside the lorngales.

Qui-Gon drew up to his elbows, panting. Clammy sweat clung to his back. The moon lit shapes with quiet incandescence: chair, sink, door. The cabin on Bikko. He oriented himself, suffusing his groggy mind with dry fact. Alone.

Except, he wasn't alone. He could feel another presence in the Force. A distant star, radiating familiar, steady light, and heading closer.

Damn it. Qui-Gon threw aside the blankets and sprang up from the bedroll, pointedly ignoring the flurried pace of his heart. He stood in the shadowed room, breathing deeply. Meddlers. And no doubt Yoda, Wise Head of the Meddlers, was behind it. Not content to merely compel Qui-Gon into this period of isolation, now another meddler was being sent in the old Master's stead. More questions, judgement…from the last person he expected, or wanted, to explain himself.

Obi-Wan.

A base instinct urged Qui-Gon to flee, avoid the whole embarrassing encounter, to sweep clean the place of even a fingerprint and barrel off world before his ex-Padawan could reach the mountain. You've done the same before, the voice whispered, a thief in the night.

He could not argue that point. Numbly Qui-Gon prepared tea, less deft than usual as he brewed and poured. Droplets fell on the wooden table and he instinctively wiped them away,

fingers tracing through the warm moisture, his touch trembling and careful, but still more tears bled out, quicker than he could dash them away, streaming down the pallid cheeks, reserves broken, dignity undone.

Too late. He was too late. No no no no no—-

He sat his cup down with a severe clatter. Outside it was still black, the thick darkness of undisturbed forest, but he knew dawn was approaching, and Obi-Wan would come with that fresh light, carrying questions from the Council. Or worse, questions of his own.

Qui-Gon had to be prepared for them all.

—-

Obi-Wan traveled through the night, occasionally seeking out Qui-Gon's signature, but never grasping anything beyond the simple imprints of wildlife. Weariness burned behind his temples, nagging him to slow down, to rest. The limits of his own human endurance irritated and challenged him. As a crecheling, he had heard legends of Jedi so attuned to the Force's energy, their bodies no longer required basic necessities.

They ate of the Force, drank of the Force, surrendered all weakness and desire to the purity of its energy. He knew he would never achieve such communion, knew too that some legends were merely fairy tales. Still, when he was very tired or worried he could do no better, he thought of those ancestors, their complete accord with the Force. It was not such a terrible goal, though his friends in the Temple would undoubtedly roll their eyes. He had heard more than a few teasing comments concerning his earnestness.

You should laugh more, Bant had told him when they last spoke, during a rare handful of days he spent on Coruscant. And stop skipping meals. There's more to life than duty, you know. Even for Jedi.

Of course, there was beauty to be appreciated, in the sky reflected on the water, in the carefree laughter of children. Obi-Wan did notice and appreciate those things, but he experienced it all through the lens of his servitude to the Order, to the Force itself. He found it only enhanced his appreciation.

Eat of the Force, drink of the Force, surrender all weakness and desire.

He would not give in to his body, though it asked for sleep and decent food. He would not humor his mind, as it reminded him again and again of an unchangeable past.

He walked through the brush, ascending the mountain at a reasonable clip, meditating with his eyes open and his legs moving. He stopped searching for Qui-Gon Jinn. He let himself be, and time slipped away from him.

He walked, until he knew he didn't need to walk anymore. He surfaced near the pinnacle, and breathed in the bracing, clean air, felt the peace of truly remote silence.

And there, at the edge of the cliff, sat a Jedi Master in meditation pose. Eyes closed, palms resting on knees, an aura of tranquility resonating so strongly in the Force to stir even the mountains.

Qui-Gin Jinn was the mountains, the trees, the endless sky. A Jedi in harmony with the Force could encompass everything. Obi-Wan hesitated to move any closer. Perhaps Master Yoda had been wrong to send him after all. He certainly felt wrong, like an intruder, trespassing onto sacred, private ground. Who was he to drag his former teacher back to the Temple? Who was he to Qui-Gon at all? For much of his life, the man had been his guiding star. But they were both older, and time had unbound those once-deep connections. The Council could have at least dispatched another Master instead, someone closer in station…

Qui-Gon emerged from his trance then, lifting his head towards the sky and inhaling as he opened his eyes.

Obi-Wan cursed under his breath. If he had hoped to slink away, the opportunity had passed. So instead he smoothed his robe, cleared his throat and stepped out into the sun.

"Master…" he hesitated, "Master Jinn?"

Dawn lit streaks in the long, graying hair. Clear blue eyes met his own, and for the first time in years, he heard his old teacher's voice. "Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon sounded only mildly surprised, as if they had run into each other in the Temple dining hall, rather than on a deserted mountain top on a distant planet. He rose in one swift, nimble motion and walked towards him.

Obi-Wan had forgotten how easily Qui-Gon towered over him, dwarfed him in physical and spiritual stature. Even dressed casually in a loose tabard and leggings, feet bare, the older Jedi was a figure of formidable grace. A lighter mane and a few more lines on his face were the only marks of the years gone by. For Obi-Wan, it was if his Knighthood and all the experiences that followed had evaporated, and he was a green Padawan again, eager to make a good impression. "Master." The younger man bowed, half expecting to feel a learner's braid swing over his shoulder. "Forgive my intrusion."

"Obi-Wan." Any emotion beneath his neutral gaze was imperceptible. He extended a hand towards his former apprentice, but paused, drawing back. "Why are you here?"

Obi-Wan could not suppress the painful twinge in his chest. Blast. Why didn't they send anyone, anyone else? He swallowed. "The Council asked me to-"

"Ah, I see." Qui-Gon crossed his arms, the peace of his ablutions dissipating like the early morning's mist. The friction between the Master and the Jedi Council had not mellowed with time, it would seem. "They think I've been on my mandatory retreat too long." He explained, chuckling softly.

So this sabbatical was a punishment?

Qui-Gon Jinn was ever the maverick, more attuned to the Force, to instinct, than the demands of the Order. It was a quality that frustrated and even embarrassed Obi-Wan in his youth, but one he admired as a Knight. "Indeed, Master," Obi-Wan replied, slipping into his old role of peacekeeper, a comforting, well-worn rhythm, "They did say you've been...ignoring their efforts to communicate."

"Ignoring? I wouldn't go that far." Qui-Gon smirked. "I would call it prioritizing." He motioned to the vivid tableau around them. " I find the birds offer far more scintillating conversation than Master Windu. But I'm flattered they were worried enough to send a Knight of your esteem."

Sudden warmth radiated in Obi-Wan's cheeks. "I happened to be in the area." He felt Qui-Gon studying his face and struggled to keep his features schooled under the scrutiny. He could rarely hide his feelings from Qui-Gon, though much was different since last he tried. Obi-Wan had learned to wear the mask of Jedi calm that once eluded him. He was developing a reputation for it, in fact. That curated stoicism was part of the reason he was requested for so many delicate negotiations. Except his opponents in that arena were never this intimidating.

Finally, Qui-Gon reached out to squeeze his arm. "I'm glad. It's been…" He glanced at the horizon, "It's been too long, Knight Kenobi. I wouldn't want to blemish your record by refusing to accompany you back to Coruscant. But the locals already requested my presence to celebrate the new moon. Apparently they believe I'll bring good luck for the coming winter." He laughed. "I doubt the Council would agree about that. It's only a few days from now. Could the completion of your mission wait until then?"

Obi-Wan hesitated. He pictured the reaction of the Council. They had not sent him to Bikko to join the retreat. But it was Qui-Gon asking him the favor. Qui-Gon. How often did he yearn for the man's advice and wisdom? And lament the distance between them? It's only a few days… "It would be rude to reject their offer, especially after the kindness and hospitality they've shown you. " Obi-Wan decided, straightening, feeling lighter as he further convinced himself, "I think the Council would feel the same."

Qui-Gon smiled. A cool wind lifted the loose strands of hair around his face. "Excellent. I appreciate it, Obi-Wan."

The Force swelled. Potential fallout back at the Temple would be worth it. For Obi-Wan, in that moment, nothing had changed.

—