Once in a Lifetime - part 5/5
Headers, warnings, etc. in part 0/5
* * *
I chased, I craved, I wanted that love for myself, and so I stretched myself, willing to separate from this existence to feel the bond sated. To know that love again, even if it wasn't for me. But just when I thought I'd done it, just when I glimpsed and fully fathomed the Force energies that bind the universe, I began slipping back. I fought for the space of a thought, feeling rather like a child who says she will hold her breath until she dies.
But I retreated faster and faster until I was aware of sound, of light, of my body slumped over Qui-Gon's and then of falling onto the floor with a thump. And then I slipped away into nothing.
* * *
When I came to I was lying on the cold floor. My back ached, my face felt sticky, and I was momentarily disoriented. Someone had placed a blanket on me -- I could feel its warm weight. I opened my eyes and realized I was still in Qui-Gon's bedroom, beside his bed. Something brushed my shoulder, and I started, my imagination telling me it was his cold, dead hand, but it was only a bed blanket, hanging over the side. I pushed myself up on my elbows, expecting to see his body when I peered up above the level of the mattress...
Then the door flew open and Anakin was there. He knelt beside me and I let him gently push me back to the floor. I didn't have much of a choice. My slight movement had weakened me. My limbs felt shaky and I was dizzy.
"He's gone -- I've taken his body to the pyre chamber."
I didn't want to think about that, about Qui-Gon lying atop a stone slab, waiting for immolation. I felt cold inside, completely drained of sorrow, and disconnected from reality. There was an emptiness...the bond... But something told me not to think about that just now. I realized that I very badly wanted to stay in this detached state until I was away from here and back in my quarters. But Anakin was there and I had to deal with him. While I skirted around my grief, I couldn't keep all of my anger at bay, and asked shortly, "Just how long was I out?"
"It's been almost two hours now; we were worried." His eyes were red-rimmed and sad, but his voice was calm, almost as if nothing unusual had happened and he'd caught me napping. That voice frayed my patience.
"You left me on the floor for *two hours*?" I snapped.
"*I* told him not to move you," another voice said. "I wasn't certain about your condition."
I looked up, and confirmed what I thought. Desra Rau.
"Blast! Anakin, is there *no* insignificant detail of my life you don't know about?" I yelled weakly.
"Oh, thanks, Obi-Wan," she said, but her tone was more doleful than angry.
"Sorry, Des," I muttered as she, too, knelt beside me and gently pressed her fingertips to my temples.
Her touch eased my lassitude, but I didn't like the confused look on her face -- the Des I remembered was anything but hesitant.
"Can you stand up?" she asked.
Anakin and she had to help me as I carefully sat up, then moved to my knees, then stood. Something was different.
I wasn't nauseated, and there was no pain.
No pain. That happened sometimes. I'd wake up, or reassume my own persona after a mission, and I might be gifted with seconds, even blessed minutes before the pain came crashing back. But this was different.
I looked down at her worried face, and up at Anakin's anxious one.
"I'm fine... I think. Des, what's happened?"
She led me out of the bedroom, and nodded to Anakin, who left quietly. I caught this peripherally, being trained in observation, but I wasn't really paying attention. I was mesmerized by the absence of pain.
I took in the sitting room, even as Des had me sit on a low couch. When I'd arrived a few hours ago, it had been as Xanatos, and I'd not chanced loosing my mental focus by looking around. But now emptiness gnawed at me, and I needed to concentrate on something besides its cause.
The room was decorated simply, much as our shared quarters had been those many years ago. On a waist-high shelf that ran the length of one wall sat holo emitters with a variety of images. I thought my mental numbness meant I couldn't hurt any more, but seeing so many proudly displayed holopics of Anakin and Xanatos saddened me.
There was but one image of me, and I stared at it. It looked as if it had been taken in Council chambers -- in the background one could see the unique windows that afforded the spire chamber a grand view of Coruscant's government district. It was from a proceedings vidfile then -- an image of me briefing the Council after a mission; just standing there in full Jedi garb. I didn't know what to think of it, and I was tired, so tired, so I turned my attention to Des.
It made sense that Anakin would call her if he were worried about me, despite what I'd said to him. I had introduced them after all. I surely scared him by passing out, and he turned to the only person he'd ever seen me be friendly with.
"Obi-Wan," she asked, breaking me out of my unpleasant reverie, "what nature of bond did you have with Qui-Gon?"
I sighed. There seemed little point in subterfuge at this point. "It was a lifebond -- but only for me. I never told you. No one knew, not even Anakin."
She stared at me with an astonished look for a long minute, then shook her head. "That explains a lot. But how..."
"It's complicated," I interrupted. "Was complicated... He was a willing participant when we started but then..."
I couldn't explain it to her. Not now. I couldn't put myself through that again. The events of the day still seemed distant to me, and I needed to hold onto that feeling. I shrugged and said, "He wouldn't complete the bonding with me."
She said softly, "You must know this already, but the bond is gone now, Obi-Wan. That is why you're not feeling pain. The bond is not just dead -- it's as if it had never been."
Gone, all gone. But I couldn't think about that, wouldn't think about that. Something nagged at me, and as I glanced at the wall of holos, the anger bubbled up again. "Why does he have *that* picture of me? He had dozens of holos from when I was his Padawan. Why that one?"
I didn't expect an answer to my malapropos question, but Des gave one anyway. "You look confident. Independent and purposeful. Maybe that's what he wanted to believe -- that you were fine after all. That he'd raised to Knighthood a successful, powerful Jedi."
It made sense. After all, Qui-Gon was nothing if not a master of self-delusion. But I didn't want to think about that, and there was something I could now clear up with Des. I looked away from the holo image of myself. From the Obi-Wan that Qui-Gon wanted to see.
"Maybe...maybe now that you know about the bond, you can forgive me for being a cad that night," I chanced.
"I never thought you were. I knew there was a reason for all that, Obi-Wan, I just didn't know that there was no way out for you."
I stared at her, and the hum of anger I'd felt since waking was suddenly a roar. "My own little Menjordan Conundrum? Is that what you mean?" I spat out the words, surprised at my vitriol.
"Yes," she said sadly. "There was no way to resolution for any one of you." She kept her tone low, but stood up to my ire.
I leaned my head back on a soft cushion and closed my eyes against it all.
"What are you going to do now?" she finally asked, hesitantly.
"Get a drink. Wash the plasmer residue off my face. Grow my beard."
She snorted loudly, but didn't leave off.
"You could do diplomatic work again. It's what you were trained for, after all."
"I have observed that most diplomats prefer it when I sneak in the back door and eliminate their problems with...aggressive negotiations. But yes, I should now be able to center myself enough to do diplomatic missions. And to think it only cost fifteen years and the death of my Master to get me ready!"
I started to laugh then, but it sounded harsh even to me, and then the laugh turned into a cry, then a moan. I started to rock back and forth as indifference turned to anger turned to pain turned to despair. I must have screamed then, my throat felt raw afterwards. As much as I hated the pain, I always knew somehow that the alternative would be worse.
Des caught me and pulled me to her while I finally succumbed to the sorrow of the day, of the past fifteen years, of my life. She kept me seated so I wouldn't break anything or hurt myself or tear at my hair.
I spent myself, finally, and my tantrum was reduced to shaking hands and ragged breath. Des still had her arms around me, and I became aware of... Skin. The closeness of her, the softness of her breasts, the scent of her hair... It was like drinking Corellian fire-brandy on an empty stomach. My senses were immediately filled with the sight, smell, and feel of her, and then I groaned and pinioned her face with my hands and kissed her hard to taste her.
She allowed it, sat there calmly and passively until I pulled back and buried my head in my hands in shame, and then softly stroked my back.
"And that. What did it cost for me to be able to do that, Des?" I asked rhetorically. I gripped my hair, something I did when the pain became overwhelming, but there was no pain this time, only a tingle on my lips and an unwelcome ache in my groin.
I found the courage to look up at her, finally. "I apologize, Des. That's twice I've used you as an experiment." I paused. "Are you still bonded with Venna?"
"Yes."
"She's a lucky woman. I'd rather not have her come after me," I said with a very shaky laugh. It was a close as I could come to humor.
"I think I can hold her off," she said, and gave me an indulgent smile.
"Well, at least I don't have to worry about upholding my reputation around you. You've certainly seen me at my worst."
"Oh, was *that* night the worst you could do? You didn't defecate on the bedspread you know. It's not like you to leave a job undone."
She surprised me and I laughed, and the sound was right this time, even though it ended in a hitched breath. My entire world was unhinged. I was laughing with Des in my dead Master's quarters, without pain, yet hurting so badly in my soul.
"But I've seen you at your best as well, Knight Kenobi. What you did in there," she nodded at the bedroom, "was unorthodox, but compassionate. I know you don't want to be, but you're finally free."
She was right. After all these years, the thought of being free of the bond was unsettling. It was how I'd defined myself. We sat for a few more minutes in the quiet room, until Des said, "I should probably be getting back. I was on duty when Anakin contacted me." She hesitated, then said almost shyly, "Please think about what I said."
"Thank you, Des," I said simply. "I will think about it. I already have an idea of what I have to do..."
She stood and held out her hand, and I let her pull me up and help me with my cloak. I gave her a hug, and a chaste kiss.
We walked to the door and I hesitated before leaving, looking around for some sign, some memento. But there was none. I'd left them all behind in our old quarters a thousand years ago.
We parted without words, and I drew up my hood and began the walk back to my rooms. I was still unsteady and it was slow going. The long summer day was coming to an end; through the corridor's windows I saw the sun glinting orange off the tall buildings surrounding the Temple.
I did know what I was going to do next. The plan had formed even as I'd spoken aloud to Des. I was going to meet Xanatos. There would be no searching involved. For the past three years he'd been in the same place -- a place Qui-Gon would never have looked. My contacts informed me that Xan had gone home. He lived in a small house, on the outskirts of a small village on Telos, far away from the bustling capital of Thani. He acted, under an assumed name of course, as a trader's agent, making sure the local farmers got an advantageous price for their goods at market. I had no doubt that with his abilities the people he served were enjoying the highest prices for their grain they'd even known.
He'd finally had his scars removed sometime before settling there -- they made him too distinctive for the anonymity he obviously sought among his people.
I didn't expect anything from him, and knew the most likely reception I would get would be hostile or indifferent at best, but there were questions I had to ask that only he could answer.
What had really happened between him and Qui-Gon that led to his leaving the order? What might explain the half-crazed, brutal existence he lived for ten years after that? I knew the official story; now I wanted to know the truth.
What might running from your Master most of your life do to a person?
For the both of us had surely been running from Qui-Gon Jinn, and he from and to us. Xanatos and I were inextricably linked by him.
Heretofore, the truth had not been my friend. But if I knew the whole story, or at least his point of view, maybe I could stop wondering 'why' and start to forgive and to heal.
I arrived at my quarters wanting nothing more than to mourn and sleep. But the hour was late, and I had to clean up and change my clothes for Qui-Gon's cremation. I didn't owe him anything, but there was one last thing that needed to be done that only I could do.
* * *
At his wake Anakin and I will be expected to speak, as his former Padawans. I will say Qui-Gon Jinn had a generous heart, and that he never knowingly hurt a soul. And that will be mostly true.
* * *
End
* * *
Loved it? Hated it? ghouses@ureach.com or ghouses@yahoo.com
Headers, warnings, etc. in part 0/5
* * *
I chased, I craved, I wanted that love for myself, and so I stretched myself, willing to separate from this existence to feel the bond sated. To know that love again, even if it wasn't for me. But just when I thought I'd done it, just when I glimpsed and fully fathomed the Force energies that bind the universe, I began slipping back. I fought for the space of a thought, feeling rather like a child who says she will hold her breath until she dies.
But I retreated faster and faster until I was aware of sound, of light, of my body slumped over Qui-Gon's and then of falling onto the floor with a thump. And then I slipped away into nothing.
* * *
When I came to I was lying on the cold floor. My back ached, my face felt sticky, and I was momentarily disoriented. Someone had placed a blanket on me -- I could feel its warm weight. I opened my eyes and realized I was still in Qui-Gon's bedroom, beside his bed. Something brushed my shoulder, and I started, my imagination telling me it was his cold, dead hand, but it was only a bed blanket, hanging over the side. I pushed myself up on my elbows, expecting to see his body when I peered up above the level of the mattress...
Then the door flew open and Anakin was there. He knelt beside me and I let him gently push me back to the floor. I didn't have much of a choice. My slight movement had weakened me. My limbs felt shaky and I was dizzy.
"He's gone -- I've taken his body to the pyre chamber."
I didn't want to think about that, about Qui-Gon lying atop a stone slab, waiting for immolation. I felt cold inside, completely drained of sorrow, and disconnected from reality. There was an emptiness...the bond... But something told me not to think about that just now. I realized that I very badly wanted to stay in this detached state until I was away from here and back in my quarters. But Anakin was there and I had to deal with him. While I skirted around my grief, I couldn't keep all of my anger at bay, and asked shortly, "Just how long was I out?"
"It's been almost two hours now; we were worried." His eyes were red-rimmed and sad, but his voice was calm, almost as if nothing unusual had happened and he'd caught me napping. That voice frayed my patience.
"You left me on the floor for *two hours*?" I snapped.
"*I* told him not to move you," another voice said. "I wasn't certain about your condition."
I looked up, and confirmed what I thought. Desra Rau.
"Blast! Anakin, is there *no* insignificant detail of my life you don't know about?" I yelled weakly.
"Oh, thanks, Obi-Wan," she said, but her tone was more doleful than angry.
"Sorry, Des," I muttered as she, too, knelt beside me and gently pressed her fingertips to my temples.
Her touch eased my lassitude, but I didn't like the confused look on her face -- the Des I remembered was anything but hesitant.
"Can you stand up?" she asked.
Anakin and she had to help me as I carefully sat up, then moved to my knees, then stood. Something was different.
I wasn't nauseated, and there was no pain.
No pain. That happened sometimes. I'd wake up, or reassume my own persona after a mission, and I might be gifted with seconds, even blessed minutes before the pain came crashing back. But this was different.
I looked down at her worried face, and up at Anakin's anxious one.
"I'm fine... I think. Des, what's happened?"
She led me out of the bedroom, and nodded to Anakin, who left quietly. I caught this peripherally, being trained in observation, but I wasn't really paying attention. I was mesmerized by the absence of pain.
I took in the sitting room, even as Des had me sit on a low couch. When I'd arrived a few hours ago, it had been as Xanatos, and I'd not chanced loosing my mental focus by looking around. But now emptiness gnawed at me, and I needed to concentrate on something besides its cause.
The room was decorated simply, much as our shared quarters had been those many years ago. On a waist-high shelf that ran the length of one wall sat holo emitters with a variety of images. I thought my mental numbness meant I couldn't hurt any more, but seeing so many proudly displayed holopics of Anakin and Xanatos saddened me.
There was but one image of me, and I stared at it. It looked as if it had been taken in Council chambers -- in the background one could see the unique windows that afforded the spire chamber a grand view of Coruscant's government district. It was from a proceedings vidfile then -- an image of me briefing the Council after a mission; just standing there in full Jedi garb. I didn't know what to think of it, and I was tired, so tired, so I turned my attention to Des.
It made sense that Anakin would call her if he were worried about me, despite what I'd said to him. I had introduced them after all. I surely scared him by passing out, and he turned to the only person he'd ever seen me be friendly with.
"Obi-Wan," she asked, breaking me out of my unpleasant reverie, "what nature of bond did you have with Qui-Gon?"
I sighed. There seemed little point in subterfuge at this point. "It was a lifebond -- but only for me. I never told you. No one knew, not even Anakin."
She stared at me with an astonished look for a long minute, then shook her head. "That explains a lot. But how..."
"It's complicated," I interrupted. "Was complicated... He was a willing participant when we started but then..."
I couldn't explain it to her. Not now. I couldn't put myself through that again. The events of the day still seemed distant to me, and I needed to hold onto that feeling. I shrugged and said, "He wouldn't complete the bonding with me."
She said softly, "You must know this already, but the bond is gone now, Obi-Wan. That is why you're not feeling pain. The bond is not just dead -- it's as if it had never been."
Gone, all gone. But I couldn't think about that, wouldn't think about that. Something nagged at me, and as I glanced at the wall of holos, the anger bubbled up again. "Why does he have *that* picture of me? He had dozens of holos from when I was his Padawan. Why that one?"
I didn't expect an answer to my malapropos question, but Des gave one anyway. "You look confident. Independent and purposeful. Maybe that's what he wanted to believe -- that you were fine after all. That he'd raised to Knighthood a successful, powerful Jedi."
It made sense. After all, Qui-Gon was nothing if not a master of self-delusion. But I didn't want to think about that, and there was something I could now clear up with Des. I looked away from the holo image of myself. From the Obi-Wan that Qui-Gon wanted to see.
"Maybe...maybe now that you know about the bond, you can forgive me for being a cad that night," I chanced.
"I never thought you were. I knew there was a reason for all that, Obi-Wan, I just didn't know that there was no way out for you."
I stared at her, and the hum of anger I'd felt since waking was suddenly a roar. "My own little Menjordan Conundrum? Is that what you mean?" I spat out the words, surprised at my vitriol.
"Yes," she said sadly. "There was no way to resolution for any one of you." She kept her tone low, but stood up to my ire.
I leaned my head back on a soft cushion and closed my eyes against it all.
"What are you going to do now?" she finally asked, hesitantly.
"Get a drink. Wash the plasmer residue off my face. Grow my beard."
She snorted loudly, but didn't leave off.
"You could do diplomatic work again. It's what you were trained for, after all."
"I have observed that most diplomats prefer it when I sneak in the back door and eliminate their problems with...aggressive negotiations. But yes, I should now be able to center myself enough to do diplomatic missions. And to think it only cost fifteen years and the death of my Master to get me ready!"
I started to laugh then, but it sounded harsh even to me, and then the laugh turned into a cry, then a moan. I started to rock back and forth as indifference turned to anger turned to pain turned to despair. I must have screamed then, my throat felt raw afterwards. As much as I hated the pain, I always knew somehow that the alternative would be worse.
Des caught me and pulled me to her while I finally succumbed to the sorrow of the day, of the past fifteen years, of my life. She kept me seated so I wouldn't break anything or hurt myself or tear at my hair.
I spent myself, finally, and my tantrum was reduced to shaking hands and ragged breath. Des still had her arms around me, and I became aware of... Skin. The closeness of her, the softness of her breasts, the scent of her hair... It was like drinking Corellian fire-brandy on an empty stomach. My senses were immediately filled with the sight, smell, and feel of her, and then I groaned and pinioned her face with my hands and kissed her hard to taste her.
She allowed it, sat there calmly and passively until I pulled back and buried my head in my hands in shame, and then softly stroked my back.
"And that. What did it cost for me to be able to do that, Des?" I asked rhetorically. I gripped my hair, something I did when the pain became overwhelming, but there was no pain this time, only a tingle on my lips and an unwelcome ache in my groin.
I found the courage to look up at her, finally. "I apologize, Des. That's twice I've used you as an experiment." I paused. "Are you still bonded with Venna?"
"Yes."
"She's a lucky woman. I'd rather not have her come after me," I said with a very shaky laugh. It was a close as I could come to humor.
"I think I can hold her off," she said, and gave me an indulgent smile.
"Well, at least I don't have to worry about upholding my reputation around you. You've certainly seen me at my worst."
"Oh, was *that* night the worst you could do? You didn't defecate on the bedspread you know. It's not like you to leave a job undone."
She surprised me and I laughed, and the sound was right this time, even though it ended in a hitched breath. My entire world was unhinged. I was laughing with Des in my dead Master's quarters, without pain, yet hurting so badly in my soul.
"But I've seen you at your best as well, Knight Kenobi. What you did in there," she nodded at the bedroom, "was unorthodox, but compassionate. I know you don't want to be, but you're finally free."
She was right. After all these years, the thought of being free of the bond was unsettling. It was how I'd defined myself. We sat for a few more minutes in the quiet room, until Des said, "I should probably be getting back. I was on duty when Anakin contacted me." She hesitated, then said almost shyly, "Please think about what I said."
"Thank you, Des," I said simply. "I will think about it. I already have an idea of what I have to do..."
She stood and held out her hand, and I let her pull me up and help me with my cloak. I gave her a hug, and a chaste kiss.
We walked to the door and I hesitated before leaving, looking around for some sign, some memento. But there was none. I'd left them all behind in our old quarters a thousand years ago.
We parted without words, and I drew up my hood and began the walk back to my rooms. I was still unsteady and it was slow going. The long summer day was coming to an end; through the corridor's windows I saw the sun glinting orange off the tall buildings surrounding the Temple.
I did know what I was going to do next. The plan had formed even as I'd spoken aloud to Des. I was going to meet Xanatos. There would be no searching involved. For the past three years he'd been in the same place -- a place Qui-Gon would never have looked. My contacts informed me that Xan had gone home. He lived in a small house, on the outskirts of a small village on Telos, far away from the bustling capital of Thani. He acted, under an assumed name of course, as a trader's agent, making sure the local farmers got an advantageous price for their goods at market. I had no doubt that with his abilities the people he served were enjoying the highest prices for their grain they'd even known.
He'd finally had his scars removed sometime before settling there -- they made him too distinctive for the anonymity he obviously sought among his people.
I didn't expect anything from him, and knew the most likely reception I would get would be hostile or indifferent at best, but there were questions I had to ask that only he could answer.
What had really happened between him and Qui-Gon that led to his leaving the order? What might explain the half-crazed, brutal existence he lived for ten years after that? I knew the official story; now I wanted to know the truth.
What might running from your Master most of your life do to a person?
For the both of us had surely been running from Qui-Gon Jinn, and he from and to us. Xanatos and I were inextricably linked by him.
Heretofore, the truth had not been my friend. But if I knew the whole story, or at least his point of view, maybe I could stop wondering 'why' and start to forgive and to heal.
I arrived at my quarters wanting nothing more than to mourn and sleep. But the hour was late, and I had to clean up and change my clothes for Qui-Gon's cremation. I didn't owe him anything, but there was one last thing that needed to be done that only I could do.
* * *
At his wake Anakin and I will be expected to speak, as his former Padawans. I will say Qui-Gon Jinn had a generous heart, and that he never knowingly hurt a soul. And that will be mostly true.
* * *
End
* * *
Loved it? Hated it? ghouses@ureach.com or ghouses@yahoo.com