Candles Against the Sea
Chapter 19: Celebration
Sometimes they didn't know if they were speaking aloud or in their heads. They were completely entwined, and perfectly content to stay that way for as long as possible. Whether they were awake or shared a dream was irrelevant. They were together, working as one to heal all the wounds, large and small, that had kept them from this wonderful haven of peace and joy before this time.
Both apologized, though the other was quick to insist that it wasn't necessary, and both forgave, whole-heartedly and without reservation. Both wept tears of sorrow and regret, followed swiftly by tears of joy that made the first tears only a ghost of a memory, forever powerless. Both listened to the wisdom of the other, and they came together to a place of understanding, peaceful and complete.
"Love is never wrong," Qui-Gon explained gently, the complete openness of his emotions removing any sting there might have been in this rebuke-that-wasn't-a-rebuke. "You should not hide it. You should not fear it. It does not make you weak, or a failure, or less of a Jedi or a person. It makes you stronger. It makes you more."
Obi-Wan rested in the warm outpour of his master's unveiled spirit, utterly content. "I see that now. I feel a little foolish for thinking otherwise. Thank you for showing me a better way. I guess I was just so focused on following the Code, on never making another mistake ever, that I did not pause to consider the other wisdom I've learned. I let my fear guide me, and that was wrong."
"But perfectly understandable." If it were possible, the affection streaming from Qui-Gon to his apprentice increased in warmth and intensity. "I see now that you don't need the criticism of the Council. You are hard enough on yourself for a dozen oversight commitees. I wish you wouldn't judge yourself so harshly—you don't deserve it." Humor lightened his tone. "Please stop trying to correct yourself, my dear Padawan. I'm going to feel quite useless and superfluous if you don't need a Master to help guide you."
"Oh, I will always need you, Master. Never fear on that account."
"And I will always be here for you. Never hesitate to bring your troubles to me in the future. Are we agreed?"
A soft, happy sigh. "We are agreed."
They talked more about the Code, about how attachment and unconditional love were two different things. The first held the shades of greed and jealousy, and the fear of loss, which was a path to dark side. A Jedi was encouraged to feel compassion, deep caring for all who lived, but he must be ready to let go at any time, for life and the Force were unpredictable, and grief could easily lead to anger and darkness. It was not merely a rule, just another line in a dusty set of them, but a necessity for those who lived by the light side.
One day I will die, my Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon said very gently, softening the blow of these hard words with a tender kiss to the boy's forehead, now wrinkled in pain as he considered this inevitability. You must be ready for that. Of course you will be sad, of course you will grieve, but it must not stop you from living. You will have to remember that I am one with the Force, and that your sadness is not for me, but for yourself. And then you will let that go and continue as the wonderful Jedi I know you will be, for you will be as selfless then as you are now. Do not fear death. It is only another step into a larger world.
I . . . I understand. Obi-Wan drew in a deep breath, felt Qui-Gon's ghosting through his hair. But now, you are here, and for a long time to come, I hope. Can we think about death later?
Qui-Gon's chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating in Obi-Wan's ear. Ah, I do believe that my apprentice is asking me to focus on the moment, live in the here and now. How can I refuse such wise advice?
He let the subject drop, knowing they would come back to it eventually. For now, the moment was too sweet to spoil with such gloomy foresight. Time enough for hard truths when the boy was rested and well, not beaten down as he was by weeks of unending strain.
For now, Qui-Gon was perfectly happy simply to aid in the healing of his Padawan's exhausted spirit and mind. It was not a difficult task. Rather pleasant for both parties involved, actually. Qui-Gon had once loved another as a son, but that one had not returned his feelings with such immense joy, such innocent, unabashed freedom. It was a new sensation, this childlike love that poured into him. Words did not exist to describe how much he enjoyed it, how it continually astonished and humbled and exalted him, how the light of it in his once cold and dim spirit was like that of the Force itself, though infinitely more personal, carrying the unique flavor and scent that was this bright young Jedi who had earned a place in his soul.
Then again, perhaps Obi-Wan was not the only one being healed by this time of intimate connection and sharing.
They talked, they sat in silence, they slept, they reveled in this newborn closeness. The bond had been purged, and it was as strong as Qui-Gon had suspected it would be. It was amazing. Everything was.
X
"Obi?"
Qui-Gon half-opened one eye, barely enough to see dimly by the faint light entering from the corridor. Nibbi stood just inside the doorway, hugging a stuffed bantha to his chest and dragging a blanket behind him. His eyes seemed even wider than usual, probably because of the unusual sight of two Jedi sleeping on a couch, slumped upright and wrapped in a single robe.
Obi-Wan stirred against the Master's chest, hauling himself out of sleep to respond to his little friend. Qui-Gon felt no need to move at all. He was entirely comfortable just as he was, thank you kindly. Obi-Wan finally managed to lift his head slightly, though.
"Mmph. Yeah, Nibbi? 'M here. D'you need me? What 'z it?"
"I just wondered where you were," Nibbi said meekly, slowly making his way closer to the couch with the blanket trailing behind him.
"Well, here I am." Obi-Wan stifled a yawn against his palm and turned slightly to lift a corner of a robe, waving a hand for the child to join them on the couch. Nibbi hurried the rest of the way and clambered up next to his friend, hauling the blanket and bantha with him.
The little one stood on the thick cushion beside them, peering closely into the Jedi's faces. "Were you cryin', Obi?" he asked in a sympathetic hush. Qui-Gon felt a small hand brush his cheek, tracing the path of dried tears, and knew that the same little fingers had just touched his Padawan's face. "I told Nilla that Uncle Quig'd never hurt you. Did I do a fib? Huh?"
Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably, jabbing an elbow gently into Qui-Gon's stomach. The Master didn't react.
"It was happy crying, Nibbi," the boy said hesitantly. "You understand what happy crying is, don't you?"
"Oh, sure." The child leaned confidently against them, half on Obi-Wan and half on Qui-Gon. "That's what I woulda done if my real mama and papa'd ever come and taken me back from that foster home."
"That's right. And you know . . . uh . . ." Obi-Wan lowered his voice to a bare whisper. "Quig isn't really my uncle."
"Oh, I knew that, Obi. He's more like your papa, isn't he? 'Sall right. You're Jedi. You don't hafta tell me everything."
"I'd like to, though."
Nibbi sat down beside them, wriggling down into a comfortable position and pulling his blanket over himself. Obi-Wan reached over to share the robe, and pulled the blanket over Qui-Gon and himself so that all three were encased in a double layer of warmth. A bit sluggishly, Qui-Gon drew his arm back and wrapped it around the little boy, pulling him against his side and Obi-Wan's leg.
"'Sokay, Uncle Quig," Nibbi whispered loudly. "You c'n go back to sleep now. 'M fine."
"Very well, little one," Qui-Gon whispered back, and let his one half-open eye slide shut again.
He heard the boys whispering a bit more, felt the jostling as they squirmed until they were comfortable, now with one of Obi-Wan's arms around Nibbi as well. Obi-Wan told his little friend their true names—though Qui-Gon suspected that Nibbi would always call them by the ones he'd first learned—and explained something of their purpose here.
Nibbi asked a few questions, like any child interested in the famous order of warriors and diplomats, and Obi-Wan answered in as much detail as he could, his voice slurring as weariness returned. But it was natural now, the ordinary reaction of a youngster trying to keep himself awake far past a decent hour. That worrisome exhaustion was finally defeated, and Obi-Wan was fast regaining his equilibrium. Eventually the boys stilled and quieted, breath evening out, and Qui-Gon knew they were asleep.
Qui-Gon opened his eyes, just for moment, to gaze down at the two children who slept so easily and trustingly against him. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. But this joy seemed too deep for a smile, somehow. Too deep for words, for petty little phrases and gestures. This was the kind of joy that tumbled mountains, that moved oceans, that ignited stars. He could not quite explain why he believed there to be such power in this, but he knew it was there.
A figure stirred in the doorway and the corner of his vision, and he sleepily turned to look. Nilla stood there, leaning on the jamb with her arms folded over her stomach. "Oh, where is my holo-camera?" she murmured loud enough for Qui-Gon to hear, then walked away.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and slept once more. Soon enough the waking world would demand the attention and assistance of the Jedi. They would enjoy this interlude of quiet for as long as they could.