Disclaimer: George Lucas owns all cannon characters and the entire SW universe, and we are forever in his debt. I own any non-cannon characters and write for pleasure alone, not profit. No Jedi were harmed in the making of this fanfic.
Disclaimer #2: This fiction was written in 2001 after I saw TPM about ten times. Back when everyone thought Owen Lars was the brother of Obi-Wan. Please keep that in mind. This story would not be considered AU, as Cannon would not allow such things…
Ties That Bind and Gag
by Rhondda Lake
It was early evening when the full day of training and duties had been done. Obi-Wan silently walked beside his Master through the solemn halls of the temple. He wanted nothing more then to simply do nothing for the rest of the evening.
He was certain that the weakest moment of his life had been the seconds he had agreed to help teach basic gymnastics to the five cycle class from the crèche. Obviously he had suffered a momentary freeze of all neural functions when he had been asked. If his brain had been working properly he would have run in the opposite direction at the proposal. Not very Jedi-like, but after the last class, he understood that discretion really was the better part of valor.
Qui-Gon looked momentarily amused as they neared their quarters, having evidently picked up on some of Obi-Wan's discomfort. He turned outside their door, as if to say something, and froze.
A moment of surprised confusion and a touch of discomfort filtered over their link just as Obi-Wan felt the presence of two visitors inside their quarters. Visitors who were not Jedi.
"Were you expecting someone?" Obi Wan slightly quirked a brow.
"No." The simpleness of the word was filled with a wealth of information. Qui-Gon knew who was inside and was unsure how to react. It was the most off balance Obi-Wan had seen him in quite a long time.
Without hesitating Qui-Gon palmed open the door to reveal their guests.
A woman sat on the couch of the common room. She was tall and of a solid build, with wide shoulders and a remarkably fit physique considering she was at least fifty. Her long blonde hair was heavily streaked with gray at the temples and pulled back into a simple tail. Her face was striking. She was a handsome woman, not a pretty one. She wore a loose brown shirt and her crossed legs were sheathed in a pair of leather pants. Her boots were knee high and functional.
Obi-Wan had never seen her before, but he sensed recognition from Qui-Gon.
"Freela." Qui-Gon made a slight bow as the woman jumped up beginning to open her arms for a more… familiar greeting. She looked hurt for an instant, but her face settled into a solemn mask almost worthy of the Master himself.
"Li… Qui-Gon." She bowed a little as well, but there was a mocking edge to it.
"You should have told me you were coming. I would have arranged to meet you." Qui-Gon made no move at introductions as he stepped into the room.
"I made my own arrangements, as you can see." The woman flopped back onto the couch with a casual carelessness. "It's good to see you are well."
The woman's blue-grey eyes flashed to Obi-Wan, slightly questioning.
"I am well, and content. What has brought you to Coruscant?" Qui-Gon brought her attention back to him.
"Ma, the only food they have here is..." a young man Obi-Wan's age stepped out of the kitchen area. He was dressed much like the woman, but Obi-Wan was taken aback at how much like Qui-Gon the young man looked. His ginger hair was short, he was young and clean shaven, his nose unbroken but…
Obi-Wan cast his Master a questioning look.
"You could try a restaurant, Liet, if you don't like my food." Qui-Gon sat in a chair, choosing not to share the couch.
The young man didn't even blush. "I think I will. Good to see you again… sir. Even if you do look a bit worse for wear." The youth smirked, his eyes glinting with something malicious. Obi-Wan found disconcerting seeing such a thing in eyes that were the very image of his Master.
By now Obi-Wan's head was spinning as he tried to reconcile what he was seeing. Qui-Gon had never mentioned a family, a son.
:You are only half right.:Qui-Gon mentally chided his Padawan.
"Freela, Liet, this is Obi-Wan Kanobi. My Padawan." Qui-Gon introduced them calmly, apparently unruffled by the pairs appearance in these apartments, or by their insulting attitude.
"Nice to put a name with the braid." The woman's smile was enough to make her actually pretty, and for a moment her eyes were kind and gentle. But that flash of softness was washed away by something sharp and edgy, "I don't suppose you were told about us?"
"Uh... no, madam." Obi-Wan offered politely, his own baring one of calmness.
"This is my sister, Freela and her son, Liet." Qui-Gon looked to Obi-Wan, making him feel like this was some sort of test.
The Padawan tried to head off the flush of embarrassment. That was not what he had expected.
The woman reached alongside the couch and brought forward a box of a rich red wood. She set it on the table and gestured for Obi-Wan to have a seat.
"I came on family business." Freela opened the box to reveal a cask of Corillian brandy and some small sifters.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair with a pained expression.
Freela nodded, apparently acknowledging something. Liet took out the bottle and began pouring the expensive liquor into the glasses.
"What do you know, maybe there are some honest feelings in there after all." Freela looked at Qui-Gon with something akin to contempt.
"I assure you, Freela, I feel as much as the next man." Qui-Gon cut off Obi-Wan's protest before it began.
She just snorted. "Obi-Wan is it?" She looked at the Padawan a bit more kindly then she did at the Master. "I suppose that make's you family enough. Take a glass and raise it with us. To the best damn Freighter pilot ever to grace the stars."
"Freighter's putting it mildly don't you think?" Qui-Gon took a glass, himself, contemplating the dark liquid inside..
Liet laughed. The young man offering Obi-Wan a peek into what Qui-Gon would have been had he not been strong in the Force. "You're right, of course. The old buzzard was a pirate and a damn good one, Uncle Li... Qui-Gon. He was proud of the fact as well."
Freela raised her glass. "To Marrik Draco, Clear skies and smooth flying forever. And may there be a good bar brawl in eternity every once in a while."
"You want me to drink to that?" Qui-Gon sat on the edge of his seat.
"It might not be your view of the universe, but it's what he'd have liked to hear." She raised her glass once more and tossed the drink back like it was water. Liet followed suit.
Qui-Gon raised his glass in the air, then sipped his more gingerly. Obi-Wan followed his Master's example.
"He was proud of you. Do you know that?" Freela slammed her glass down on the table. "So damn proud. He didn't want any of us to contact you, cause you any embarrassment." Her voice was thick with emotion. "Too bad for you ma was as stubborn as him. Evidently he was right, since we haven't heard a thing from you since she passed."
Freela stood, her son only a few seconds behind her. "I'm so sorry if we humiliated you in front of your student."
Qui-Gon stood quickly. "Freela, you didn't. You don't. Please... sit. I'm just not... good at these things."
"Cut the shit, Qui. You've always been good at everything you did. Including keeping us at arms length and safely hidden in the closet." Freela faced the Jedi Master, and while her voice was full of anger there was hurt in her eyes.
Obi-Wan noted that his Master's sister was an intimidating woman, standing of equal height to her brother, and as broad of shoulder. But under the anger and the intimidating posturing was someone of strong feelings. Obi-Wan could feel her hurt and could not understand how his Master could not.
"Come on, Ma. I told you it was a mistake to come here." Liet left the box and stepped around the sibling stand off.
Obi-Wan felt that barb strike the woman as well.
"How did you come to have such an over inflated opinion of me if you dislike me so much?" Qui-Gon's voice was soft and a bit sad.
"Liet, why don't you and young Obi-Wan go find some dinner, on me? I think Qui and I have to talk." Freela looked sidelong at her son.
The young man looked uncomfortable but nodded. "Fine. Come on, Kanobi, show me where I can sit down to a meal with flavor in it."
"And Liet... if you get him in any trouble you'll be cleaning the carbons from the engines for the next three months and be scrubbing fresher for longer." The woman's tone was crisp, yet affectionate.
"Yes mother. Can I go now or do you want me to wash behind my ears first?" Liet crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.
"Where does he get this attitude? Must be his father's blood." Freela groaned then pointed to the door.
Obi-Wan looked at his Master, unsure if this was a wise idea. At Qui-Gon's nod he headed to the door. "The Dulyata has a variety of interplanetary dishes. Some are quite spicy."
"The hotter the better..." Liet answer was heard as they left the apartment.
--------------------------------
Freela looked at her brother with a casual air of doubt and flopped back onto the couch. "So enlighten me, oh knowledgeable one."
Qui-Gon sighed and took his own seat. "Where do you get your image of me, Freela? I admit there has been a distance, but it had nothing to do with being embarrassed over my family."
"That's why your student there knew who we were. You might not want to admit to it, as such a thing would be against your code or something, but it's there. Otherwise we'd at least get an impersonal note or communication once a year or so. But in ten years since mom passed I honestly didn't even know if you were alive or dead." Freela took to examining her hands. Large hands but a bit more delicate then her brothers. Age was showing on them now, and calluses. The short nails were not so much trimmed as chewed off.
"I didn't think you wanted any communication. When I came to the wake ten years ago, you were radiating resentment. You didn't want anything to do with me, and I barely got a civil word out of you." Qui-Gon spread his hands.
"Serves you right for using your damn mystical hocus-pocus on me. Damnit Liet, our mother had died. I had spent the last year playing nursemaid for her, watching as her mind faded more each day. I spoon-fed her alongside dad. I watched her deteriorate until all that was left was a husk who couldn't even remember my name." The last was said in a choked sob. "And as we sent her ashes to space in walks my big brother. The special one. And everyone flocks to you, even dad. They were so honored that you came, that you attended you own mother's funeral... Yes I was resentful. That was supposed to be about her, a remembrance of her life. Yes... I hurt, and wanted the support that was swept from me the moment you walked into the house. You… you knew her through letters and brief visits. I was there, through it all. I didn't deny your right to mourn. But I did resent your presence. As childish and foolish as it was. But that didn't mean I never wanted to hear from you again. It was the emotions of the moment."
Qui-Gon sat silently through her words, his eyes sad. "I didn't intend to take anything from you. Do you know she sent me images of you. When I was ten I would show your image around the crèche, I was happy to be a big brother. Even if I wasn't there, or didn't understand what it meant."
"I remember when you were ten. You came for a four day visit." Freela's husky voice spoke softly and her eyes misted at the memory, "You were all pressed and polished in your Jedi get up and that braid that went almost to your waist. You seemed so... uncomfortable, sitting at the table while dad told of running the Cerean blockade to smuggle food and supplies in. You told him it wasn't right to make a profit off the misery of others. I remember a lot of yelling. You with your fresh young Jedi ideals, and he with his cold practicality were more alike then either of you knew. I remember you both leaving the table, him in a storm, you just quietly withdrawing... mother sitting there crying." Freela poured herself another brandy.
"You remember that? You were what… seven? I was so idealistic. I told Master Yoda about it later and he scolded me, reminding me that it didn't matter how the supplies got there is the suffering of some was relieved." Qui-Gon leaned back in his chair, his voice soft.
"I remember because it was my life day, and we were going to have my favorite dessert and I was going to get to play with my big brother. Instead dad stayed simmering in his room and I had to sneak down in the dark to raid my choc pudding." Freela sipped her drink. She didn't want to add that he shouldn't have needed the reassurance of a Jedi Master, but simply understood and accepted his father. But she couldn't.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know." He leaned forward. "That's what I meant about not being good at this kind of thing. My knowledge of family is limited to what I glimpsed on rare visits, and what I feel in my relationships here at the temple. We were raised so differently."
"But we're still the same. The same blood."
"Yes, we are. Come, allow me to buy you some food... with flavor in it... and some choc pudding. And you can tell me what I missed, and I can tell you what I was really like growing up." Qui-Gon rose and held out his hand.
"You mean a real conversation? Do you think the universe can stand it?" Freela took the offered hand and rose.
"I think it will manage. Perhaps we can forge a peace in memory of our father." He set the door lock and waited for her.
"He'd like that. But we should forge it because we want to more than anything." She looked at him expectantly.
"Of course. I would like to know you better, very much." He passed as she preceded him into the hall and turned to watch the door slide shut. "Freela, how did you get into my rooms?"
The woman laughed, a deep throaty sound that shattered the silence of the temple corridors. "What kind of pirate would I be if I could descramble a lock code?"
Qui-Gon just shook his head with a small smile on his lips. Taking his sister's arm they slowly made their way to the elevators, and the beginnings of an understanding.