Title: First touch
Summary: Le'orath Antilles is invited to dinner by Qui-Gon Jinn.
Genre: Romance
Rating: R but nearing the high side of R. Will contain some description that might be considered sexual by some.
Notes: Takes place 1 year, 9 months after But, five weeks after First Kiss.
"I have a bad feeling about this."
Even as she muttered to herself, one slim hand batted at the trumpet flower entangled in her red hair. She had tried to brush past the unruly greenery of the low porch, intent on her destination, but the tendrils of whispering foliage and the luminescent ivory blossoms had captured her in an organic snare.
Le'orath Antilles just sighed in exasperation. This wasn't the first time she had been defeated by Jinn's vines. And, while she realized that it probably would not be the last, for now, she needed to escape her leafy trap. Annoyed, she reached up and pulled. No luck. Then, as she yanked harder, there was a sudden sharp snap. The stubborn bloom floated free past her cheek and caught on her shoulder, taunting her. With a slight huff of impatience, she swatted it roughly away.
She stopped for a moment and tried to rein in her climbing anxiety. She knew that tearing up the bushes would not work no matter how good it felt. Instead, she took in one deep breath and then another.
Surrounded by green foliage, the milky flowers and the sweet scent of high summer, she could almost feel the serenity, hear it in the hum of flitterbugs, the joy of far bird-song and the slight rustle of leaves touched by a soft airy breeze. But she was not serene. In fact, she was uncharacteristically nervous about the whole thing and it showed in the restless way she smoothed her tunic and the unconscious wringing of her roughened hands.
She blamed him, of course. She put it squarely on the shoulders of one man, one very tall man. Qui-Gon Jinn, damn his eyes, had invited her to dinner.
And she had accepted. She still wasn't sure if she had made the right decision. Their relationship, if it could called such, had kept her off-balance from the very start. However, if this night played out as she desperately wished it would… well, best not to think about that. Live in the moment was her new credo and she was sticking to it.
Besides, although Qui-Gon had not mentioned it, Anakin would certainly be eating with them. She knew that a little boy's lively conversation would keep this evening from turning into something more than just dinner. No matter how much she might want things to change, he did not. They were just friends and likely to remain so.
Still, Qui-Gon was a puzzle she had long been trying to unravel. She had met him several months ago at the nursery co-operative. She had been overseeing the delivery of several plants needed to complete her latest landscaping job, and while waiting for the last flats of the coleptris to appear, she noticed a tall, rather confused man frowning down at a slip of flimsiplast.
He had been shabbily dressed, faded stains in the leggings that told of repeated washings, and a shirt that had seen better days. She had not thought him particularly handsome at the time. But he was striking, with a spectacularly-broken nose marring the symmetry of his face, salted brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard. Oldish, late 50s perhaps but more than that, he seemed tired, almost defeated.
Le'orath hadn't meant to stare. But one moment later, he looked up, and her heart almost stopped beating. The depth of desperation in his blue eyes caught at her throat and she hadn't remembered to breathe again until he turned away. It was clear, though, that he was deliberately ignoring her. Keeping his face impassive, he carefully moved to the counter and stood there, note in hand, waiting for someone to take his order. She took pity on him immediately; he needed her help whether he knew it or not.
It had been hard to win his trust. She had introduced herself and tried to engage him in conversation. He was polite but adamant that he could not afford her help. Thanking her, he walked away, his broad back stiff with dignity and dirt-poor pride. Luckily, the manager knew her well and must have said something to Qui-Gon. The next time their paths crossed, she was able to get past the durasteel walls he had built and he was more receptive to her advice. She had found out later that he had inquired about her - quietly - and had liked what he heard.
He certainly had needed her expertise. Almost bankrupt from the first year's failed crop, he had indeed been desperate. A complete novice to farming, he hadn't the slightest idea of how to manage a farm, of what crops to plant and when to plant them, nothing beyond what was written in datafiles.
And she knew that farming was more than just reading books. There was an art to it and she was one of the best artists around.
She had to admit that he did listen to her suggestions, and more importantly, implemented them. His first successful harvest had just come in and he wanted to repay her kindness with dinner. She had accepted with some trepidation.
But she had to be brutally honest about it all. The problem wasn't him; it was her. He was a kind, gentle man, understanding, compassionate, sometimes incredibly stubborn but she loved being around him. His quiet serenity filled her days with peace. However, by night, he haunted her hungry dreams. And this was not good.
He had made it clear, abundantly clear that he was willing to be her friend but nothing more. She would just have to accept it but she wasn't sure she could. Perhaps this evening would seal their fate - either remain casual acquaintances or… become something that would haunt her days as well as her nights. She did not hold out much hope for that.
Le'orath took another deep breath, and gathering her courage in her hands, strode confidently to the door. It was time to find out.
She did not have long to wait. In fact, he must have sensed her presence because, before she could knock, the door swung open.
Qui-Gon stood there, a smile threatening to break through as he took in her disheveled appearance. She had tried on several outfits before choosing something that she hoped he would appreciate. Nothing was quite right and finally she had given up and dressed in a simple green shift and leggings, a more elaborate shawl draping her shoulders. Her fiery hair had been under control until the unfortunate run-in with his vines. Now, she just felt untidy. But there was nothing to be done; she would have to make the best of it.
He, on the other hand, looked superb. Brown and grey hair hung soft about his shoulders and the midnight-blue eyes were dancing with amusement. Dressed in dark blue leggings and white shirt opened at the throat, he looked like some holovid smuggler or perhaps a farmer trying to look nice for an evening's get-together with a friend. She appreciated the gesture but it only increased her anxiety. She was enjoying the view far too much.
Trouble in a devastating package. Damn.
He stepped back and waved her in. "I'm glad you could come, Le'orath. Dinner is almost ready."
"I hope you don't mind but I brought dessert." She handed him a small gift-wrapped box, and gave him a tentative smile. "Choco-menthe drops. It's about the only thing I know how to make."
"Thank you. They will be most welcome." As he moved to close the door, Le'orath could see him gazing at her, his smile widening. She frowned, not quite sure what he was staring at but he finally relented, "I see you've had another run-in with my vine."
Her mouth flattened in annoyance. "I swear that green menace outside is sentient. Every time I come here, it attacks me." Shaking her head, she sighed, "Is it very bad?"
His eyes grew bluer with delight. "I think you have defeated it, my lady. Even now, a trophy resides in your hair."
"Qui-Gon Jinn, you are... incorrigible." As she spoke, she was patting her head, trying to find the remnants of her battle with the plant. When he said nothing but watched as she poked and prodded to find the source of his amusement, she grew more and more embarrassed. Finally she gave up and gestured upward, "Please just get it out."
"At your service." He reached up, plucking the recalcitrant leaf and handing it to her as if it were made of gold.
She glared at him for a moment and then shook her head. "I knew you had a way with plants, Qui-Gon but this is too much. Next time that vine attacks me, I'm taking a vibroshiv to it."
With that, he chuckled and conceded the point. "I bow to your experience, Le'orath." Taking her shawl and hanging it up by the door, he gestured toward the dining room." I have to finish up in the kitchen. Make yourself at home."
As he hurried away, she looked around. Apparently, he had been quite busy in recent weeks. The walls had a fresh coat of paint and the furniture had been rearranged to accommodate a second-hand couch in one corner. Everything was clean, even though the furnishings were not of the first quality. But a farmer, just now beginning to make a profit, could ill afford to waste money on trifles. She was impressed; he had done much with little.
As she entered the dining room, Qui-Gon came in from the kitchen, carrying a tray filled with roasted sauwkabird, quavus root and brukilli. He placed the food on the table and motioned for her to sit. It was then that she realized there were only two place settings. She had assumed that his apprentice was elsewhere on the farm and would be joining them later. But apparently, she was mistaken. When she looked at him with questions in her eyes, he hurried to explain, "Anakin asked if he could spend the night with his friend from school. Since he's the new child in the community, I thought it was a good idea to let him go."
Le'orath sent a silent grateful 'thank you' to whatever gods had intervened. Alone, just the two of them and he didn't seem to mind. Perhaps things were looking up after all. "When I was growing up, we had moved from Theed to Lake Port. And I was the new one at the school. I can well imagine how happy Anakin is to have a friend."
He sighed in concern. "He could use one." But at her startled look, he reassured her. "Oh, he makes friends easily enough. But we are a long way from town and I think he is lonely here with just me for company. I don't fault him for trying to reach out to others."
"Qui-Gon," Almost without thought, her hand was suddenly in his. "It is always good to have a network of people that you can rely on. That is true for children… and adults." Startled, he stared down at their entwined fingers and frowned slightly. She had not meant to be so forward; the gesture had been instinctual rather than planned but she realized that he might misinterpret it. Trying to distance herself, she patted his fingertips in a brief hopefully-friendly gesture, and leaning back, began to sample the sauwkabird.
Qui-Gon sat there silently for a moment, refusing to meet her eyes. Then he reached over, past her and pulled up a bottle of chilled liquid from the side table. "I wasn't sure what you would prefer so I have a selection of drinks to choose from. Water, of course, juice and…," gesturing with one hand, he pointed out, "a finely aged wine if you wish. It will not cloud the mind but its flavor compliments the meal."
He was still looking away, apparently engaged in being the solicitous host but she recognized what he was doing. She was not so blind that she didn't recognize avoidance when it slapped her in the face. He didn't want to talk about connections, about relying on others, about deepening relationships.
Well, two could play at that game.
"That sounds lovely, Qui-Gon." As he poured the amber liquid into two glasses, she busied herself with enjoying the food. For the moment, she would give him the space that he needed. With a short nod, he settled in and began to eat, the silence between them unsettled and growing.
But Le'orath was not a successful businesswoman for nothing. When one door closed, she would just open another. Watching him carefully, she started again. "This is delicious. I didn't know you could cook."
He seemed to relax at that. Apparently, food was a safe topic for now. Shrugging off the compliment, he said, "I can do many things including living off the land if necessary." He looked up then but his expression invited her to share the joke.
She sent him a droll look back, "Hopefully, not tonight."
A lightening-fast smile acknowledged her jest; he shook his head at her but his gleaming eyes lightened in dry amusement.
Hoping to draw him further out, Le'orath gestured with her fork toward the dinner. "You realize that a good cook is worth his weight in gemstones - the expensive kind. If word gets out, they will be beating down your door and laying credits at your feet."
"I believe I will have to decline their offer."
She gifted him a short chuckle and then the silence returned. But it was more comfortable, a quiet time between friends. From beneath lowered lashes, Le'orath watched him eat and it suddenly occurred to her that he was as nervous as she was about this dinner. She had not expected that. He was an accomplished diplomat after all and experienced in things that she would not even begin to imagine. But she certainly had more practice in the ways of the heart - well, if she could believe what she had read of the Jedi credo. And the heart usually reveals itself in a hundred different ways.
Smiling, she leaned across the table, and whispered dramatically, "I will let you in on a family secret." Qui-Gon blinked, his blue eyes cautious but she just snickered. "I am the planet's worst cook. My mother says so, my brother and cousins all agree. I can and have burnt untold dishes until I was ordered by one and all to stay out of the kitchen and never attempt to prepare a meal again."
"It isn't that difficult." With such gentle teasing, it was clear that he was enjoying the moment.
She just laughed and shook her head. Sweet memories smoothed her voice into delight. "My husband said the same thing. He was the artist in the family when it came to food preparation. He could make a dish fit for the Prince of Alderaan out of tubers and air."
From one second to the next, it was if the warm air had frosted into harsh winter. Qui-Gon stilled suddenly, his face stark white, frozen in an instant at the icy chill of unexpected and grievous news. With unbelievable speed, a rigid mask fell into place, trading rich emotion for bleak brittle nothingness. But his midnight eyes could not hide the sorrow lurking within.
"You are married."
The husky rumble sounded almost betrayed; the unspoken questions of why she was here, why she hadn't told him this before, why she had kissed him all those weeks ago when she belonged elsewhere, hung in the infinite space between them.
Le'orath started, taken aback at his cold remark. She had thought that he knew about her past. It was common knowledge after all, but apparently not. She reached for his hand, frantic to reassure him by touch, but he thrust himself backward in the chair, out of reach. She stopped, suddenly uncertain.
"No, Qui-Gon, it's not what you think. I was married but… Darce died five years ago in a shuttle accident."
The blue glaring ice melted into warm sympathy as he realized his mistake. "I did not know. I'm sorry."
Unshed tears burned behind her eyes. She had thought she was past this but now, with Qui-Gon's gentle presence, it abruptly began to hurt. "It's all right, Qui-Gon. It was a long time ago." She tried to smile but the understanding she saw in his eyes was almost her undoing. "I still miss him."
She looked down to see his large hand covering her cold fingertips, one thumb making soft circles on her skin. The warmth of his touch seemed to calm her; she felt as if she was enfolded in a gentle, affectionate embrace.
Watching those callused fingers tighten around hers, she wanted him to never let go. She felt more safe and alive that she had in a very long time. "We had talked about starting a family just before he died. You'll find that family is very important on Naboo and children especially. But it wasn't meant to be."
"Sometimes it is not." The quiet reply spoke of his own losses.
"In some ways, you remind me of him." Qui-Gon gazed her intently, those startling blue eyes boring into hers. "Both of you tall, quiet, with a love of growing things. Perfectionists. And apparently good cooks." A quick snicker acknowledging former and present lives, she began to share her past. "I met him at the University at Theed. We both wanted to do something with the outdoors. He was studying to be a pharmacological exobiologist - cross-breeding exotic plants for potential medicines and was off-planet looking for new sources when the shuttle crashed."
Sympathy swirled about her, the air filled with currents of peace and the relief in letting-go. She felt such serenity in Qui-Gon's simple touch. "I was not quite rational for a while." A shrug of her shoulders told of sleepless nights and pain-filled days. But then straightening up, she gave him a brilliant smile. "I have put it behind me and now I have a full life. I love what I do, I have a wide circle of friends and family. And I am relatively content."
One final glance of skin and he released her. Le'orath continued, "But here I am jabbering on about my uninteresting life. And you've hardly spoken about yours."
Qui-Gon shook his head, the door into his past closing before she had even begun to breach it. "There is nothing to tell."
Le'orath sent him back an unbelieving look. He could be so stubborn at times. "The stories of the Jedi are filled with grand adventures and daring feats. But, when you get past all the hyperbole, it sounds like a hard life. Service to others, no possessions, no attachments. Not a life most would willingly choose."
"No." The heavy sigh that followed spoke volumes of remembered sorrow.
She gently stated the obvious. "You miss it."
"Every day."
It was clear that he had not looked beyond his hoarded pain. He had merely buried it deep and let it settle into his heart, festering there, tainting him. But there were other ways to help those less fortunate without risking life and limb at every turn, other avenues besides the increasingly-fallible Jedi Order. If only he would see what was right before his eyes.
"Qui-Gon, it is possible to have a life of service outside the Jedi. Many do, you know." He looked away, his face shuttered. "Once you are on your feet, there are several charities that could use your expertise. You should think about it. I know a few people. If you like, I could make enquiries."
"Thank you but I must make sure this farm doesn't go bankrupt first. Perhaps later."
And so her idea was dismissed. But it was his despair that had shown through; he had yet to deal with the awful things that the Jedi had done to him. Her advice was not wanted… again. Stubborn man but Le'orath was persistent if nothing else.
"I understand." She took a sip of the wine and began again.
"You might want to think about getting more involved in the community for your own sake, then." She knew that he was too much alone here. Isolating himself from others was not the way to overcome the pain but more importantly, farmers need each other in the bad seasons. And he didn't seem to understand that.
"I haven't had the time." Obviously, the man was even more obstinate than even she realized.
Exasperated, she shot back. "Qui-Gon…make the time." When he began to object, she waved one hand to quell his foolish protest. His recent experiences with the Jedi had made him wary of relying on others but this was not Coruscant. "I know that you are very busy, this place takes up all of your focus but farmers help each other. It's a way of surviving when the crop is poor or there is a blight. Or a war." Pushing her hands flat on the table and staring him down, she made it perfectly clear that she would not take no for an answer. "In my experience, it would be wise if you got to know your neighbors a little better."
"I have met them." He had the temerity to sound almost apologetic.
She suppressed the growl that was bubbling under her throat; he was impossible, frustrating, stubborn and very dear to her. And it would not be wise to let him know that just now. With one exaggerated sigh, she asked softly, "Do you know what they say about you?" When he shook his head, she explained, "That you are willing to help but not willing to ask for help."
"Le'orath…"
She glared at Qui-Gon, trying not to roll her eyes at his foolish reluctance. Did the man ever relax and let others have the pleasure of doing a good deed? It wasn't that hard but he made it seem utterly impossible to accept the gift.
"You need to ask once in a while. The planet will not explode if you do." She folded her arms across her chest; she could be just as obstinate any day. "Qui-Gon, if you are going to make a life here and have this farm succeed, join in." She leaned forward, daring him to disagree. "There's a festival next week. You and Anakin are going to come with me and enjoy yourselves. I'll introduce you to the Antilles clan; my cousin is the Governor. And you will have a good time. I insist."
He raised his hands in surrender. "Yes, Master Antilles."
With that, she chuckled, "Good. I know that Anakin will enjoy it. And so will you." He just shook his head but she could see that he was quietly pleased by the prospect.
"I saw Anakin the other day when I was visiting his school. He is quite a bundle of energy. Exhausting at times."
Qui-Gon smiled fondly, "He does seem to have that effect on people."
Le'orath gave a quick chuckle. Anakin had been quite excited to see her and showed her off to his friends during play time. Talking rapidly and flittering from topic to topic, he had told her about his dramatic battles in space, his chores at home, what Qui-Gon was doing at the farm, and then complained about his mentor being grouchy and sad before moving on to grumble about homework. Apparently, somewhere in the few times she had interacted with him, she had earned the boy's trust.
"He told me quite a lot about the crops and he has informed me that he is 'wizard' - I believe is the word - at fixing things." She chuckled at the memory of his charming chatter. "He misses his mother quite a bit. Will she be visiting him any time soon?"
He shook his head, frowning down at the glass in his hand. "Shmi is unable to come to Naboo right now. I hope to bring her here in a couple of months once the second harvest is in and I have money for transport."
She was happy to hear it. Anakin could put up a smokescreen of rapid talk with the best of them but she could tell that he was aching to see his mother. "I'm sure he will be thrilled. Will she be here long?"
"Yes. Permanently, I hope."
A small shard of jealousy shivered through the back of her mind before she suppressed it. He spoke of Shmi dispassionately, as if she was the mother of his apprentice and nothing else. But he was very good at hiding his emotions, sometimes unbelievably so. For Anakin's sake, she was glad to hear that she was coming to stay on Naboo. But she wondered if the woman was something more to Qui-Gon than he was letting on.
And she did not like that she was feeling this way. Shmi had had a life that no one should be forced to endure and her own life had been one of comfort and family. This was unworthy of her.
As she sat there berating herself, Qui-Gon rose and began to gather the plates. Between them, they had managed to finish off all but the merest of scraps. As he reached for her platter, she smiled up at him. "This was lovely. I'm so glad that you invited me. Perhaps I can repay the gift by helping with the dishes?"
He shook his head. "Thank you but you are my guest." But he nodded toward the kitchen. "You could keep me company while I clean up."
Rising, she sauntered over to the kitchen door and held it open. "Be glad to. That meal was one of the best I've had in a long time. Perhaps I can steal your secrets while I'm here."
He shot her a look of disbelief. "And use it in your next foray into cooking?"
She just laughed. "Yes, oh wise one." Looking around at the kitchen, she noticed that there was one vital labor-saving appliance missing. "Qui-Gon, why don't you get a droid to help with the household chores? They are relatively inexpensive and it would free you to concentrate on Anakin's training and the next crop."
"I need the funds." Taking her aback, the flat tone brooked no dissension.
But that never stopped Le'orath. Something was bothering him about this. Watching him scrap off the remains of their dinner and feeding the plates into the cleanser unit, she tried a different approach. "I guess I'm confused, then. Your harvest yields were among the highest I've ever seen and I had assumed that your profit was considerable."
Still flat, still warning her to back away from this. "It will be barely enough."
She was really beginning to be concerned. "Why? You seem to have things well in hand. What do you need that would cost that much?" He was ignoring her, but the clatter of dishes suddenly got louder. "Are you buying new equipment? You should be able to get a few more seasons out of the implements you have. You don't want to be buying things that you do not need." She grabbed onto his sleeve, trying to garner his attention. "Qui-Gon?"
He stopped, briefly gazing down at her hand before peering out of the window into the first glimmers of dusk. "Shmi's transport will cost a great deal."
Le'orath was puzzled. There was something hidden here. "Why? It's not that far to Tatooine. The fare is minimal, really." When he said nothing but continued to stand there gazing out into the coming night, she began to worry.
This was no mere problem with funds. He was about to do something that he knew she would not like. Damn. She hoped she was wrong about this. "Qui-Gon, is Shmi still a slave? Anakin talked to me about being one back on Tatooine but I had assumed that his mother merely chose to remain there after they were both freed."
"She was never freed but I want to get her out."
Le'orath stepped back. She began to grow angry that he would do something so foolish. "You can't be serious. You are going to buy her? Qui-Gon, the Republic laws are quite specific. It's illegal to do so. And the slave hunters are all over this area of space. Much as I abhor the practice, it could cost you everything."
Deepest space was not as cold as his voice. Loathing laced his reply. "You would let her stay there in slavery."
Her denial was immediate and sharp. She was as horrified by slavery as he but going to Tatooine to purchase a slave openly was asking for a prison sentence. And her fear for him shrilled her reply. "No! But you can't just go there and buy a slave. They'd arrest you as soon as you landed back on Naboo."
He looked thunderous, jaw clenched and his hands fisted into knots of sinew and whitened skin. As she stepped forward, hoping to get him to see reason, he jerked out of her path. Blinking back frustrated tears, she said gently, "Qui-Gon, please listen. I know that you want to do the right thing and I want that as well. But the hunters watch the ports between our two planets, looking for slaves, freed or otherwise."
He said nothing but she could tell he was still listening. "There are ways around the law, ways to free slaves without getting caught. I shouldn't be saying anything because there may be danger to others but I know a few people in the Abolitionists Union that have experience in this. They should be able to help you. If you want, I can set up a meeting. Take advantage of their expertise. Please."
"Le'orath, I am not a fool that goes in without a plan; I have thought about it a great deal and I will get her out safely. Law or no law. " The anger had abated but lines of harsh emotion, disappointment, regret, steely determination could be read in his face. He was not happy with her. At all.
She swallowed hard, trying to get past the sorrow even now swelling in her throat. "Qui-Gon, I'm sorry. It's just that I'm used to people less… capable of action. I didn't mean…" Le'orath wanted to make amends but she no longer knew how with him. "I'm sure that you know what you are doing. Forgive me for thinking otherwise." She turned away; Perhaps it was just too difficult between them. Qui-Gon and she were much alike, stubborn, willful and afraid of what the future might hold.
The kitchen suddenly seemed cold and too bright. She needed to go home, to get away before they tore each other to shreds and ruined what was left of their relationship.
But then one warm hand settled on her shoulder and as she twisted around, Qui-Gon reached up and touched her cheek. A gentle caress and he let her go. "Le', I know you meant well. Set up a meeting. I will talk with them."
Blinking at the sudden change, all she could do was murmur, "Thank you. You won't be sorry."
"You are a stubborn woman, Le'orath Antilles. Foolish at times but I do appreciate your help." He looked out the window again at the darkening sky. "I could not even think of rescuing Anakin's mother if you had not come into my life that day. Your continued presence has brought me much needed friendship and…" He hesitated then, turning to gaze at her wondering face. "I am truly grateful."
"You're welcome, Qui-Gon." With a small tentative smile, she conceded, "You are right about one thing. I am very stubborn."
He chuckled at that. "You are indeed." Then he picked up two glasses and headed back toward the dining room. "Come. There is something I'd like to show you." She followed, intrigued at his mercurial change. He certainly could keep her off-balance. Gathering up the wine bottle, over his shoulder, he said, "Please, bring your gift."
As he opened the front door and walked out into the coming night, she stopped short, "Qui-Gon Jinn, you aren't sacrificing me to that vine of yours, are you?"
"Perhaps."
She almost believed him. But gathering her courage and the box of choco-menthes, she followed him out onto the dreaded porch. She glanced at the attack vine for just a moment then looked for Qui-Gon.
A break in the foliage framed the far mountains and he stood there, silent and tall, outlined in the movement of leaves and luminescent blossoms. As she hesitated, he gestured for her to stand beside him and enjoy the view. A comfortable wide bench pressed up against the house and she could see that Qui-Gon had placed the wine and glasses onto a small side table. Leaving the dessert with the drinks, she joined him there. Gazing out at the dusky glory of white-capped peaks tinged with red and the first sprinkle of bright stars, she stood silent.
The peace was incredible amid the quiet hum of flitterbugs and the leaves softly rustling in the slight breeze. The perfume of the trumpet flowers and the green scent of growing things wafted in the air. But nothing compared to the joy of being near him at this quiet moment.
They said nothing for the longest time. Watching the jagged peaks morph into indigo and greys, the stars filling the sky with the intense spray of light, she never wanted to move. But as the first of the moons rose, she gathered her courage and reached for his hand.
Entwining her fingers in his, she drew him close. "It's beautiful, Qui-Gon. Thank you for sharing this."
Hesitant, unsure of his reaction, Le'orath pulled his hand to her face and watched his eyes darkened as she brushed the back of his skin ever so lightly with her mouth. A sharp intake and an abortive "Le'" and then he stood silent, almost frozen with anticipation. Smiling slightly, she ghosted moist breath across his fingertips and nuzzled the warm flesh, gently, gently. She did not want to startle him into retreat. With infinite patience, she turned his hand over, then followed the sensual play of sinew and bone and the pulsing warmth to the sensitive flesh at his wrist and whispered a kiss there. The pulse point began to beat a rapid tattoo as he grew rigid with shock and desire. But he did not pull away. She smiled into his skin and felt the calluses of hard work pressing against her cheek.
Qui-Gon moved then. Without thought, his hand curled around her neck and he pulled her up, looking at her with uncertainty in his dark eyes. Another soft questioning murmur and, his eyes followed his fingertips as they began to touch her hair, moving downward, gently caressing the lines of temple and downy cheek, slowly toward her unguarded throat. One thumb caught at the corner of her smile and circled whisper-soft about her mouth. She shivered at his touch, her heart pounding. She could not breathe for the desire threatening to overtake her.
Watching her, unsure of what she would do or say, he bent down, wavering for one moment. Giving her time to pull back but her eyes told him all he needed to know. He began to kiss her then, gently at first, feather-touches across her brow, her eyelids, her mouth. His beard was supple brush, tickling her ear as his lips swept across her face and his hair swung free. She tried to comb through the fine strands with her fingertips, eager to see if it was as silky as she had dreamed it would be but he captured her hand and guided it to his mouth for one long sensual caress. And then he dove back into her embrace, kissing her with increasing roughness, savoring her, almost frantic in his explorations of her mouth. He was wine, made of summer and sweet fruit, and she would never tire of the taste.
His hand cupped her face while the other had come up to tangle in her hair, fisting at the base of her neck, holding her captive under his fervent kisses. She could feel his body harden, his arms immovable as he dove into her.
He urged her backwards then, both of them searching for the bench, as they began to explore each other. Finally, the wide seat was discovered and they sank down, frantic with desire. He had not let her go for a moment, instead following the tender line of jaw to the sensitive flesh behind her ear and back to the lush savor of her mouth.
She had her own explorations, the rough texture of beard sensitizing her skin, the silken strands of long hair soothing her, her fingers busy with the smooth flesh at the base of his throat. All the while, she was trying not to give in to the desire threatening to overwhelm her, trying not to open his shirt and find out if the scars she had seen were as soft as his fevered cheek, trying not to lose herself in him. Damn, too late. She was already lost.
His kisses seemed to go on for eternity, soft and hard and they made her hungry for more. But while his hands had captured her in a willing embrace, all the while hers were wanton, trying to find the opening in the fabric, trying to gain entrance to his heated flesh. Finally, giving up, she pushed past the cloth, thrusting her fingers down and then snaked up under the shirt. Following the soft scars mapping across his back, down around his side and up to the fine hairs on his chest, her hands fervent with longing, she wanted to sink into his skin and never come out. He grunted softly then. And she knew she could grow to love that sound.
But he had other ideas, his body leaning forward to cover her own, his hard strength pushing her down. And, oh how she wanted that. One large hand had worked its way from her hair and was making its own explorations. Smiling into his kiss, she found the wayward hand and shoved it up under her tunic to cup her breast. It hardened instantly and her groan matched his.
It was clear that he had some experience. His fingers were doing such things to her body that she seemed to be flying on light. She began to pant in earnest, frantically seeking to dive into his embrace, to want more kisses, more skin, more. Oh, to be in him and around him and filling with such brilliance. She was lost in him, could never let him go.
He had answered her desire with his own, tumultuous kisses and she felt his body stiffen further, his hunger apparent in the movement of his hands and soft murmurs against her skin.
And it all came crashing down when she moaned, "Oh, love me, please."
He stilled immediately, shock running through his body, and then he abruptly pulled away. She slipped free, the cool air and sudden loss of his touch jolting her. Realizing her mistake, she blinked rapidly and tried to clear her head of the longing that demanded more, the fine tremors shivering her body in failure.
There was nothing she could say but "I'm sorry."
He sat there, trying to stop his frantic breathing, taking gasps of air in a valiant attempt to cool his ardor. When she called to him again, he glanced at her, sorrow and the ache lingering in his eyes. But he shook his head, and looked away, ashamed.
She sat there, waiting for him to say something, anything. She tried to reach for him but he took both small hands in his, stopping her. "Le', please. This is too fast. I can't do this. I can't be the man you want me to be."
She looked down at their entwined fingers. And her ridiculous dreams turned to ash even as she tried to quell her body's desires. She knew that he would not accept her feelings. She had known it from the start but it was already too late. It was too late the day she met him, looking into his desolate eyes and realizing that he would always have a place in her heart. It was too late the day she helped him with his first crop. It was too late the moment she kissed him. Too late.
But now, she would reassure him, tell him the lies that he wanted to hear so that she might have one small piece of his life. She loosened her hands and leaned back, giving him space. "It's all right, Qui-Gon." She sought to gentle his pain and let him be free as he needed so desperately to be. "I know you don't want any entanglements. No attachments as the Jedi would say. I may not be happy about it… I'm not happy about it but, if it is what you want, I'll just have to accept it."
"I'm sorry, Le', I don't know I can ever be anything else."
"I know you believe that. But, Qui-Gon, I don't agree. Only you can decide what to do with your life - not me, not the foolish Order that held you in such contempt, not Anakin, no one but you." One small hand grazed the silk of his beard. "Only you."
She leaned in and wrapped him in her arms for one brief moment. Then, standing up, she looked down at him sitting there, so alone in the shroud of his past life. "Thank you for dinner. It was really lovely. I'll let you know about Abolitionists Union tomorrow. And I'll be by to pick you up next week for the festival. I'm sure Anakin will enjoy it and you will, too." She stepped back and turned away, stopping to gaze out at the blazing splendor of the star-filled night. The luminescent moonsglow seemed to capture the despair in her eyes. "I have to go. I have a busy day tomorrow with client meetings."
"Le', don't leave it like this. I…" But she ignored his words and walked away, one hand brushing furiously at her face. Without a backward glance, she got into her speeder and drove quickly out of sight.
***************
Qui-Gon Jinn, former Jedi, rejected by Temple and family and friends, was alone.
He stood there a long time, long enough for the jangled silence to turn into the quiet sounds of night. Then, with all the age of his life bearing down on his shoulders, he shuffled back into the lonely house. He had been a fool; he continued to be one - turning everything in his life to ash with his own hands.
There, by the door, hung her elaborate shawl. Gently taking it in his hands, he smoothed the fine cloth, remembering. When next he saw her, he would return the lovely thing. And then he would explain that the vines still needed to entangle in her hair.
The end.