Happy Valentine's Day everybody! Two little ficlet bunnies that were gnawing their way through my mind when I should have been doing my homework. Hope that they tide you guys over until the next installments of Solstice Night and Chiaroscuro (both of which are currently being edited, but they're well on the way to being done, fear not!)
Xtine
Father and Son.
I
Qui-Gon eased the door open carefully, peering inside the darkened room with an expression of worry clouding his clear blue eyes. His Padawan was still sleeping, curled up in a tiny ball under the mountain of blankets that had been heaped upon him.
Qui-Gon made a mental note never to believe Obi-Wan when it came to matters of his Padawan's health. The Halldarian flu wasn't exactly life-threatening, but it affected Force-users much stronger than the natives of the planet. Obi-Wan had tried to pass his sickness off as a minor cold, dismissing it with that faint grin that wrapped itself around Qui-Gon's heart.
Qui-Gon had believed him, up until the moment his Padawan collapsed in the middle of negotiations with the Halldarian delegation. And although Qui-Gon would never admit it, he had been genuinely panicked for the boy he had come to view as a son. It was an emotion that hadn't abated until Obi-Wan had been released from the Healers and brought back to his room to sleep.
Perching gingerly on the edge of the bed, Qui-Gon softly stroked the short, bristly hair of his Padawan. Obi-Wan shifted in his sleep, whimpering softly. Moving to sit more fully on the mattress, Qui-Gon gently pulled Obi-Wan into his arms, cradling his Padawan against his chest. Obi-Wan would be 21 in less than a month, and yet he suddenly seemed no more than 13, the age he had been the day that Qui-Gon had taken him as a Padawan. The day the boy had effortlessly worked his way into a stern old Jedi's heart.
Sending waves of comfort through their training bond, Qui-Gon gently rocked Obi-Wan back and forth as if the young man were still no more than a child plagued by nightmares. Obi-Wan sighed quietly, a smile curving his lips as he unconsciously snuggled closer to the warmth of his Master's body.
Qui-Gon inclined his head, pressing a kiss against Obi-Wan's forehead, before resting his cheek against his Padawan's short hair and closing his eyes. Humming a soft lullaby that he dimly remembered from his home planet, Qui-Gon let himself drift off into sleep to join Obi-Wan. His Padawan.
His son.
II
Anakin leaned over to press a kiss against his sleeping wife's forehead, running one hand down to stroke over her rounded belly. She was visibly pregnant now, a fact that was becoming harder and harder to disguise from the gossip-mongering Holonet reporters.
When Padmé had told him he was going to be a father, his first thought had been incredulous, delirious joy. His second thought had been how he was going to tell Obi-Wan.
He still hadn't managed to do so.
With a sigh, Anakin smiled faintly at his wife, glancing at the chrono. He still had a few minutes before he had to leave. Obi-Wan would wonder where he had been; Anakin hated having to lie to his Master about Padmé. He hated having to lie to Padmé about Obi-Wan.
Starting to pull his hand away, Anakin started at an insistent tug at his mind. It was faint, and barely conscious, but the pull in the Force was there. Gently pressing his hand back down, Anakin reached into the Force, following the source of the contact.
White light flooded his mind, surrounding him with curiosity and love and innocence, wrapping around him and tugging at his heart.
"Hello Luke," Anakin whispered, unable to contain the huge grin that split his features, even as tears sprang into his eyes.
"Anakin?" Padmé's hand on his arm brought Anakin back to himself with a start. Her eyes were half open as she stretched languidly, smiling a sleepy grin. "Ani, what are you doing?"
Leaning over, Anakin kissed her softly. "Go back to sleep, darling. I was just talking to my son." With a small smile, he bent to kiss his wife's stomach, smiling against her skin. "I love you," he whispered, rising from the bed.
"I love you too, Ani," Padmé murmured sleepily, tugging the blankets back up over her shoulders.
Anakin paused in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder at his wife. He had said the words, but they hadn't been addressed to Padmé, not anymore.
They had been for his son.