Qui-Gon Jinn was laying contently on his sleep couch, and was just about to
doze off, when he heard a knock on the door. It was followed quickly by
another rapid one, which was slightly louder than its former. Qui-Gon
groaned out loud as the persistent knocking continued. He slowly got off
the bed, and stumbled his way over to the front door to his quarters.
Rubbing a large hand across sleepy eyes, he palmed open the door. Sitting on the floor in front of the door, was a small figure. He was hunched up, his legs tucked into his chest, and he was shivering profusely. Qui-Gon immediately knelt down in concern over the figure, turning on an extra light as he went.
Now that he could see better, Qui-Gon could make out the figure to be Obi- Wan Kenobi, a five-year-old initiate that he had met only a short time ago. Obi-Wan looked up shyly, and the Jedi Master could see that the little boy's face was flushed a dark shade of red.
"What's wrong, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked gently, taking in the boy's pained appearance.
"Don't feel good," Obi-Wan said softly and slowly. His face scrunched up slightly as he talked, showing that it hurt to speak.
Qui-Gon gently picked the little boy up from his huddled position, and laid him against his large chest. "What hurts, my big Jedi?" Normally, that statement would have brought a salvo of hysterical giggles from the boy, but now Obi-Wan just closed his eyes and spoke in a low voice.
Qui-Gon's concern arose quickly. The Obi-Wan he knew was always energetic and laughing. Always smiling. Now, as Qui-Gon looked at his face, he noticed that it looked like the little initiate was about to cry. There must have been something really wrong with the boy.
"Throat, tummy, and right here." Obi-Wan brought a small hand weakly to his chest, and laid it there. Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan and asked, "Why didn't you go to the Healers?"
Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut again, and Qui-Gon saw a shiver pass through boy. "They hurt. Don't like the Healers."
Qui-Gon sighed and questioned the little boy again. "How did you get so sick, Obi-Wan?"
The initiate shrugged his shoulders tiredly, and moved his hand to his stomach. "Don't know. Caught something, I guess." His hand started to fall from his stomach, the boy not having enough strength left to hold it in place.
Qui-Gon caught the hand, and silently marveled how small it looked compared to his. He gently started to stroke Obi-Wan's hand with his thumb.
"There, there, you big sith-killer, you." Qui-Gon's worry once again spiked up again when not a sound was heard from the boy.
Qui-Gon walked lightly to his room, Obi-Wan still against his chest. He crossed the room swiftly, and carefully lay Obi-Wan down on the bed. With the warmth of Qui-Gon's chest gone, Obi-Wan shivered at squeezed himself into a ball. Qui-Gon hurried out of the room and got a large blanket from a chest in his living quarters. Laying it carefully on the sick boy, Qui-Gon tucked Obi-Wan in and made sure the blanket was wrapped securely around him. He put a hand on Obi-Wan's head, and was slightly surprised when he felt a temperature, heat coming off the initiate's forehead in waves.
Obi-Wan let out a dry cough that shook his small body violently. "Hurts, Qui, hurts," he moaned softly.
Qui-Gon's heart broke at the sight, but he struggled to keep his face straight so as not to worry Obi-Wan. "You'll be fine Obi-Wan, just fine."
The initiate's cerulean eyes started to water and his voice came out teary and strained. "Make it stop, Quiggy, please." He bit his lip to keep from crying as a spasm of pain wracked his young body.
Qui-Gon knelt on the floor so he was at eye-level with Obi-Wan. "I can't make it stop, Obi." His voice choked as he saw a silent tear roll down the flushed cheek. Qui-Gon reached out a hand and brushed away the tear. His voice was low, and wetness glistened in his own eyes. "No matter how much I want it to." Obi-Wan let out another cough, and a second tear streak down his cheek.
"Stay with me, Quiggy?" Obi-Wan's voice was so soft and strained that Qui- Gon could hardly believe that it was Obi-Wan speaking.
"Of course, big guy, I won't leave. Not for anything," Qui-Gon promised.
"Then it won't hurt so much if you stay," Obi-Wan remarked weakly, bloodshot cerulean eyes meeting glistening midnight blue ones. Obi-Wan let his hand drop to the side of the bed, and Qui-Gon caught it with the gentleness of the clouds. He pulled the hand over to his chest and held it there, trying to warm the icy coldness of the boy's fingers.
"Its cold, Quiggy," Obi-Wan whispered feebly. "Lay next to me?"
Without a word, only a nod of the head, Qui-Gon got up and gently deposited the small hand on the side of the bed. Qui-Gon went around the bed and got up on it, lying down next to the boy. Obi-Wan moved over fraction by fraction until his head was resting on Qui-Gon's chest, using it as a pillow.
With one hand, Qui-Gon began stroking Obi-Wan's spiky hair, feeling the smoothness of it. Obi-Wan lay still, the sound of Qui-Gon's gently thumping heart putting him to sleep. His eyes began to droop as he let out a sigh, regretting it as a deep pain in his chest rebounded across his whole body. His eyes shut, and Obi-Wan felt unconsciousness starting to overtake him, slowly relieving the pain.
Just before sleep completely came over him, Obi-Wan said one thing to Qui- Gon. "Thank you, daddy."
Qui-Gon's mouth dropped open in shock. He wanted to say something -anything- in return, but the boy was already fast asleep.
Qui-Gon barely got any sleep that night. Instead he stayed up, stroking Obi- Wan's hair, fatherly thoughts running through his head. And at times where the thoughts turned more fatherly than he could have imagined, he hugged Obi-Wan closer, feeling what it was like to have a son.
*********** "I don't think you remember that, padawan. You were very young." Qui-Gon whispered in fifteen year old Obi-Wan's ear. Qui-Gon was half-sitting half lying down on a bed, propped up by the head of the bed. Obi-Wan's head was resting on his chest, and a thick blanket covered both of them. Qui-Gon brought up a hand and began to gently stoke Obi-Wan's ginger hair.
Obi-Wan had contracted a disease from a planet on their last negotiation mission. The signs were too subtle that Qui-Gon wasn't able to notice how sick Obi-Wan was getting until it was too late. Qui-Gon closed his eyes in remembrance as the memory of Obi-Wan collapsing at the meeting came back to him. Qui-Gon had to rush Obi-Wan back to the Temple, leaving the mission incomplete. But at that moment, Qui-Gon hadn't cared. All he cared about was his padawan, who was in danger. The Healers told him that he had contracted a dangerous disease. They had given him an antibiotic, but Obi- Wan had been dreadfully sick over the last week, and at times it looked like he would never get better.
Qui-Gon was snapped out of his thoughts as Obi-Wan let out a couple rough coughs. Qui-Gon pulled him closer to his body, trying to reassure the boy through all the pain. "You'll be fine, Obi-Wan. You'll be all right, my little one. I'm here. I'm here. Even on that night a long time ago, when you were sick, I was worried about you. I hardly knew you, but I knew one thing. I couldn't live on if something happened to you. You need to get better, Obi-Wan. My Obi-Wan. My boy. I miss your smile, you laugh, everything." The big Jedi Master was surprised to hear his voice crack, and wetness trailing slowly down his cheek.
Obi-Wan shifted slightly in his arms; his eyes still squeezed shut, shudders passing through his body. Qui-Gon concentrated on the boy's ginger hair until a moan made him snap his head up.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes slowly and gave his Master a weak smile. "I remember that night," he said hoarsely.
A grin lit up Qui-Gon's face. "You heard the story?" He asked.
"Only some of it, but it was enough to remember the whole thing." Obi-Wan answered back.
"That night in that story I told you, you had contracted a serious flu. I was so worried that you wouldn't live through it. You were so little. But now, you're older, but my worry did not wane at all. In fact, it grew, if possible." Qui-Gon held his padawan tighter. "I'm glad you're awake. I missed you little one."
"Its funny," Obi-Wan remarked around a cough, "when I was younger, you used to call me big Jedi, big guy, things like that. Now that I'm older, you call me little." He cocked his head a fraction to the right and looked at Qui-Gon. "Why is that, Master?"
Qui-Gon sighed and shifted Obi-Wan up into his arms, so he was holding almost all of the boy's meager weight. He leaned Obi-Wan's head against his chest, just like he did ten years before. "I wanted you to be older, because I wanted to deny that the Force had put us together. I didn't want a padawan, and I didn't want the obvious connection that we had. But I couldn't stop thinking of you, especially during that night. When the pain got too bad, you would start to silently sob in your sleep. And you would squeeze my hand tight. I never wanted that affection, or at least that is what I thought. But deep down, I knew that we were meant to be together. I wanted to deny it so bad, but I couldn't. Now that you are my padawan, I can let all my affection out. You will always be my little one, Obi, always. And hear me now, because this is something I didn't get the chance to say ten years ago, when you thanked me and called me daddy. I love you, my son. Never forget that."
A tear slipped down Obi-Wan's face. The sun shone in all the majesty it could muster as the two Jedi, not master and apprentice, but something more: father and son, embraced, never letting their hearts go.
"I'll love you forever, dad. Nothing will stop that." Obi-Wan said, his eyes shining in the sunlight.
Rubbing a large hand across sleepy eyes, he palmed open the door. Sitting on the floor in front of the door, was a small figure. He was hunched up, his legs tucked into his chest, and he was shivering profusely. Qui-Gon immediately knelt down in concern over the figure, turning on an extra light as he went.
Now that he could see better, Qui-Gon could make out the figure to be Obi- Wan Kenobi, a five-year-old initiate that he had met only a short time ago. Obi-Wan looked up shyly, and the Jedi Master could see that the little boy's face was flushed a dark shade of red.
"What's wrong, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked gently, taking in the boy's pained appearance.
"Don't feel good," Obi-Wan said softly and slowly. His face scrunched up slightly as he talked, showing that it hurt to speak.
Qui-Gon gently picked the little boy up from his huddled position, and laid him against his large chest. "What hurts, my big Jedi?" Normally, that statement would have brought a salvo of hysterical giggles from the boy, but now Obi-Wan just closed his eyes and spoke in a low voice.
Qui-Gon's concern arose quickly. The Obi-Wan he knew was always energetic and laughing. Always smiling. Now, as Qui-Gon looked at his face, he noticed that it looked like the little initiate was about to cry. There must have been something really wrong with the boy.
"Throat, tummy, and right here." Obi-Wan brought a small hand weakly to his chest, and laid it there. Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan and asked, "Why didn't you go to the Healers?"
Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut again, and Qui-Gon saw a shiver pass through boy. "They hurt. Don't like the Healers."
Qui-Gon sighed and questioned the little boy again. "How did you get so sick, Obi-Wan?"
The initiate shrugged his shoulders tiredly, and moved his hand to his stomach. "Don't know. Caught something, I guess." His hand started to fall from his stomach, the boy not having enough strength left to hold it in place.
Qui-Gon caught the hand, and silently marveled how small it looked compared to his. He gently started to stroke Obi-Wan's hand with his thumb.
"There, there, you big sith-killer, you." Qui-Gon's worry once again spiked up again when not a sound was heard from the boy.
Qui-Gon walked lightly to his room, Obi-Wan still against his chest. He crossed the room swiftly, and carefully lay Obi-Wan down on the bed. With the warmth of Qui-Gon's chest gone, Obi-Wan shivered at squeezed himself into a ball. Qui-Gon hurried out of the room and got a large blanket from a chest in his living quarters. Laying it carefully on the sick boy, Qui-Gon tucked Obi-Wan in and made sure the blanket was wrapped securely around him. He put a hand on Obi-Wan's head, and was slightly surprised when he felt a temperature, heat coming off the initiate's forehead in waves.
Obi-Wan let out a dry cough that shook his small body violently. "Hurts, Qui, hurts," he moaned softly.
Qui-Gon's heart broke at the sight, but he struggled to keep his face straight so as not to worry Obi-Wan. "You'll be fine Obi-Wan, just fine."
The initiate's cerulean eyes started to water and his voice came out teary and strained. "Make it stop, Quiggy, please." He bit his lip to keep from crying as a spasm of pain wracked his young body.
Qui-Gon knelt on the floor so he was at eye-level with Obi-Wan. "I can't make it stop, Obi." His voice choked as he saw a silent tear roll down the flushed cheek. Qui-Gon reached out a hand and brushed away the tear. His voice was low, and wetness glistened in his own eyes. "No matter how much I want it to." Obi-Wan let out another cough, and a second tear streak down his cheek.
"Stay with me, Quiggy?" Obi-Wan's voice was so soft and strained that Qui- Gon could hardly believe that it was Obi-Wan speaking.
"Of course, big guy, I won't leave. Not for anything," Qui-Gon promised.
"Then it won't hurt so much if you stay," Obi-Wan remarked weakly, bloodshot cerulean eyes meeting glistening midnight blue ones. Obi-Wan let his hand drop to the side of the bed, and Qui-Gon caught it with the gentleness of the clouds. He pulled the hand over to his chest and held it there, trying to warm the icy coldness of the boy's fingers.
"Its cold, Quiggy," Obi-Wan whispered feebly. "Lay next to me?"
Without a word, only a nod of the head, Qui-Gon got up and gently deposited the small hand on the side of the bed. Qui-Gon went around the bed and got up on it, lying down next to the boy. Obi-Wan moved over fraction by fraction until his head was resting on Qui-Gon's chest, using it as a pillow.
With one hand, Qui-Gon began stroking Obi-Wan's spiky hair, feeling the smoothness of it. Obi-Wan lay still, the sound of Qui-Gon's gently thumping heart putting him to sleep. His eyes began to droop as he let out a sigh, regretting it as a deep pain in his chest rebounded across his whole body. His eyes shut, and Obi-Wan felt unconsciousness starting to overtake him, slowly relieving the pain.
Just before sleep completely came over him, Obi-Wan said one thing to Qui- Gon. "Thank you, daddy."
Qui-Gon's mouth dropped open in shock. He wanted to say something -anything- in return, but the boy was already fast asleep.
Qui-Gon barely got any sleep that night. Instead he stayed up, stroking Obi- Wan's hair, fatherly thoughts running through his head. And at times where the thoughts turned more fatherly than he could have imagined, he hugged Obi-Wan closer, feeling what it was like to have a son.
*********** "I don't think you remember that, padawan. You were very young." Qui-Gon whispered in fifteen year old Obi-Wan's ear. Qui-Gon was half-sitting half lying down on a bed, propped up by the head of the bed. Obi-Wan's head was resting on his chest, and a thick blanket covered both of them. Qui-Gon brought up a hand and began to gently stoke Obi-Wan's ginger hair.
Obi-Wan had contracted a disease from a planet on their last negotiation mission. The signs were too subtle that Qui-Gon wasn't able to notice how sick Obi-Wan was getting until it was too late. Qui-Gon closed his eyes in remembrance as the memory of Obi-Wan collapsing at the meeting came back to him. Qui-Gon had to rush Obi-Wan back to the Temple, leaving the mission incomplete. But at that moment, Qui-Gon hadn't cared. All he cared about was his padawan, who was in danger. The Healers told him that he had contracted a dangerous disease. They had given him an antibiotic, but Obi- Wan had been dreadfully sick over the last week, and at times it looked like he would never get better.
Qui-Gon was snapped out of his thoughts as Obi-Wan let out a couple rough coughs. Qui-Gon pulled him closer to his body, trying to reassure the boy through all the pain. "You'll be fine, Obi-Wan. You'll be all right, my little one. I'm here. I'm here. Even on that night a long time ago, when you were sick, I was worried about you. I hardly knew you, but I knew one thing. I couldn't live on if something happened to you. You need to get better, Obi-Wan. My Obi-Wan. My boy. I miss your smile, you laugh, everything." The big Jedi Master was surprised to hear his voice crack, and wetness trailing slowly down his cheek.
Obi-Wan shifted slightly in his arms; his eyes still squeezed shut, shudders passing through his body. Qui-Gon concentrated on the boy's ginger hair until a moan made him snap his head up.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes slowly and gave his Master a weak smile. "I remember that night," he said hoarsely.
A grin lit up Qui-Gon's face. "You heard the story?" He asked.
"Only some of it, but it was enough to remember the whole thing." Obi-Wan answered back.
"That night in that story I told you, you had contracted a serious flu. I was so worried that you wouldn't live through it. You were so little. But now, you're older, but my worry did not wane at all. In fact, it grew, if possible." Qui-Gon held his padawan tighter. "I'm glad you're awake. I missed you little one."
"Its funny," Obi-Wan remarked around a cough, "when I was younger, you used to call me big Jedi, big guy, things like that. Now that I'm older, you call me little." He cocked his head a fraction to the right and looked at Qui-Gon. "Why is that, Master?"
Qui-Gon sighed and shifted Obi-Wan up into his arms, so he was holding almost all of the boy's meager weight. He leaned Obi-Wan's head against his chest, just like he did ten years before. "I wanted you to be older, because I wanted to deny that the Force had put us together. I didn't want a padawan, and I didn't want the obvious connection that we had. But I couldn't stop thinking of you, especially during that night. When the pain got too bad, you would start to silently sob in your sleep. And you would squeeze my hand tight. I never wanted that affection, or at least that is what I thought. But deep down, I knew that we were meant to be together. I wanted to deny it so bad, but I couldn't. Now that you are my padawan, I can let all my affection out. You will always be my little one, Obi, always. And hear me now, because this is something I didn't get the chance to say ten years ago, when you thanked me and called me daddy. I love you, my son. Never forget that."
A tear slipped down Obi-Wan's face. The sun shone in all the majesty it could muster as the two Jedi, not master and apprentice, but something more: father and son, embraced, never letting their hearts go.
"I'll love you forever, dad. Nothing will stop that." Obi-Wan said, his eyes shining in the sunlight.