FIC: A Winter Night Quin-Obi NC-17
Title: A Winter Night
author: helgaleena
Fandom: Star Wars: Quinlan Vos
Characters: Obi-Wan, Quin, Anakin
Prompt: 061: winter
Word Count:
Rating: NC-17
Author's Notes: Hurt-comfort, set immediately after Star Wars: Twilight, and TPM. Allusions to three other stories by me, of Obi, Qui, and Quin, listed at the end.
illustration by osiness
http://community.livejournal.com/quinlanvos100/19401.html
"I miss him so much, Quin," said the man in his arms.
"So do I," he answered. But really, about two-thirds of what he missed about Qui-Gon Jinn was derived from how much Obi-Wan missed him. A few of his own memories had seeped back, of the magnificent deceased, but really, the bulk of them were things Obi-Wan had shared with him, filling in after his mind-wipe.
Just now he had Kenobi's beautiful red-gold head pillowed against his chest, and his creamy back and shoulders warm against him, as they sat watching the Coruscant traffic glitter through the dark sky around the Temple. It was nice having a window in the sleeping room, especially when the season was dark. The view was much more calming than watching the huge holoscreen Anakin had dragged in from who knows where, and set up in the sitting room.
At the moment he felt more at home with Obi-Wan and Anakin than he did in his own quarters. He'd had to read every surface in there, in order for the place not to seem totally foreign. And when he'd gotten to Aayla's room, he'd nearly wept at the empty bed, that she'd last slept in before she turned sixteen. Where was she? How was she? He'd made himself read every surface in there, too, and then given up and cried. It had taken hours to stop. Then he had shut her door, and not entered since.
No, he definitely missed his padawan more than he did Qui-Gon. The bond was there. She wasn't dead. But since she didn't acknowledge its existence, it did him no good in finding her.
That was the difference. Dead was dead-- Qui-Gon was, and she was not. There was still hope, and the duty to nurture that hope. Qui-Gon was only memories, of which he was woefully short.
Obi-Wan kept Qui-Gon alive, though, by dwelling so frequently on his memory. He'd taught Anakin to do it, as well. Quin couldn't relate. But that was probably because he only knew his own master from reading the file on him. He knew he must've had one, so he'd looked it up-- still hadn't met him. This Tholme was a busy man, and he kept his silence. His shielding of the remnants of their training bond was perfect.
That was in character, according to the file on him. Tholme had been watchman of the Kiffu sector when Quin was born, had discovered him, and started training him on Kiffu. Then the Guardians had finally relented and released Quin for padawan training. Tholme followed him here, becoming a healer, then a covert operative. It sounded as if the man had dedicated his life to training his Kiffar padawan, then stepped away, as if molded by that training into something new entirely. Now he was, according to the file, "on permanent assignment." It didn't say where. He was a spy, after all.
And that was why Quinlan Vos had been a spy as well, he supposed. Besides the touch-reading, he was good at telepathy, could teleport and Force-reach pretty well when he wasn't rattled, and was quite good at invisibility. And another thing, which he had evidently learned from this Tholme-- he had a need to structure his life around his padawan's, dammit.
She needed him, wherever she was; it was a given-- she needed finding. She didn't know who she was! And the Aayla he had learned about, from the feel of her pink-bladed sabre, and from meeting the lovely vacant shell of her on Ryloth, pulled on his soul. Pulled on his heart...absently he stared into the Coruscant darkness. Force forgive him, he wanted her. Not just back as his student, but for her own sake. The blue girl had his heart.
He couldn't bear to think of touching the tall human who'd introduced herself as Shylar, the other day. She didn't do a thing for him, and he'd sensed relief mingled with her disappointment, when he'd not recognized her.
"She was your crush, Quin, when you turned twenty," Obi-Wan had murmured, after she'd turned away into the milling lunch crowd in the Temple canteen. He and Anakin were enough of a social gathering for Vos that lunch time, thanks very much. He'd raised one dark eyebrow, and then gone back to eating his soup.
"What's a crush, Master?"
"It's when you spend a lot of your free time with a certain someone for a while."
"You mean like me and Tru?" Anakin looked a bit puzzled, and as if he were wondering whether to be offended. Obi-Wan laughed lightly, with his new facial hair too sparse to disguise a bit of a flush. Quin saw, and tried not to grin himself. How would Master Kenobi get out of this one?
"No, Anakin, it's not just friendship. It's more-- adult."
"And it can go away later, like Knight Vos and Knight Shylar's did?"
"Very perceptive of you, Padawan."
The eleven-year-old scowled at his tray, then looked up with a stormy flash of blue eyes. "I don't think I'll bother having any, then."
Quin had to chuckle at that. But he didn't comment; not his place. Obi-Wan smiled wryly at the boy he'd once resented as a rival, and now treated with affection.
"Don't speak too soon, Anakin. Attachments form and dissolve naturally, as part of our normal social lives."
"Oh." Silence, as the boy toyed with the remains on his tray, then-- "Do you and Knight Vos have a crush, Master?"
Poor Obi-Wan's rosy lips had dropped open at that. His liquid green eyes flew to Quin, and his flush deepened. Quin decided to have a little mercy on him. He turned to the boy, dark eyes warm, dour mouth serious below the yellow horizon of his tattoo.
"No, Anakin, we're friends. We've been friends since long before you were born, when we were still padawans. Obi-Wan is helping me remember my past, to help with my re-training, in ways that only a very old friend could."
"Knight Vos, sir--"
"Quin."
"Quin, I heard your padawan is lost. I was really sorry to hear it. It hurts to even think about that. I don't know what I'd do without Master Obi-Wan."
"I don't know what he'd do without you either, Anakin." Quin smiled at the boy, briefly. He lifted the spoon for another bite of soup, but then set it back down.
Obi-Wan reached over and laid a hand upon Quin's wrapped wrist, which lay by the bowl. He looked his padawan in the eye. "Can you see why it's important for Quin to regain as much of his Jedi life as he can, as soon as possible, Anakin? He knows Aayla is alive-- somewhere. He has to prepare to bring back her memory, as well."
"Yes, Master." The boy blinked, absorbing this. "She could come back, and Master Qui-Gon can't. And we still remember him, all the time."
"Yes, we do."
Quin cleared his throat; he'd suddenly gone a bit hoarse. "I need to remember Aayla like that, Anakin. As well as remember how to be her master. I won't be a Master again until she has returned, and the Council approves it."
"You mean if I were gone, Master Kenobi might not be a master any longer?" Anakin's eyes were wide, and his mouth was making a tiny 'o'.
"Well--" and he coughed away the obstruction in his throat,--"when I'd lost my memory, I did some things that a Jedi should not, and have to prove myself again. Your master is in no danger of that." Surprisingly, that brought a frown to Obi-Wan's smooth brow. He turned to his padawan.
"That isn't strictly true, Anakin. The more mastery we gain over our Force abilities, the more possibilities there are for us to misuse them. A Jedi is always on alert against the lure of power for its own sake; the danger never really goes away."
Now Anakin was frowning, too, dark golden brows meeting, lower lip jutting. "Are you telling me this because I'm so powerful, Master? Because I know that I am."
"I'd be telling you this in any case, even if you were below average in the Force, Padawan."
Quin had nodded, backing him up, but he'd kept his eyes on the remains of lunch. Obi-Wan was up to the challenge of this one, Chosen or not.
Force, was he glad that beautiful man was in his arms right now. Obi-Wan's relaxation, and the nostalgia over the past he was reliving, was flowing directly from his warm back into Quin's belly and heart, through their gentle touching.
"That tree down there, Quin... It was springtime, when we first-- had sex together, I guess it was..." Quin chuckled as the memory flowed to him, of the dark fringe of Padawan Vos' silly hairdo, his molten brown eyes hovering close over a younger Obi-Wan, against a background of flowering branches. No, it wasn't exactly sex, and yet it still was. * Just like the tree they were looking at didn't seem alive. Yet when spring returned-- but Obi-Wan went on.
"I brought him there, Quin, when the fruits were ripe. And he told me--" Suddenly the emotions were very strong, and included an extremely personal kiss from the magnificent mouth of Qui-Gon Jinn. It wasn't meant for Quin, and resolutely he pulled his mind back and nudged Obi-Wan to shield, even as his own eyes filled and spilled down his dark cheeks. Yeah, the man could kiss.
"I'm sorry. Oh, and Anakin might get an echo of it-- I forgot, I forgot--" But though his mental shields went up, the tears of Master Kenobi still spilled out, and he turned in Quin's arms, to let them soak into his dark hair. In silence, in mental solitude and physical closeness, both let their grief flow, for the Master they had both loved.
When he could, Obi-Wan switched to a different memory, of a 'breakfast' the three of them had shared, on Ord Mantell. ** Quin's tears turned to smiles, as he contemplated the memory of his own mouth and Obi-Wan's from a new perspective. Appreciatively he wiped away some of the wetness from Obi-Wan's cheeks-- padawan then, Master now, still so forgiving.
And Qui-Gon had been there, too, of course... Unexpectedly his own memories, of things the two of them had been doing before Obi had arrived, things they had waited for years, patiently, for a chance to enact, flooded though him. It was as if an entire chamber of his mind, previously blank, were suddenly fully furnished again. An empty branch of his brain burst into flower-- a gift of the Force.*** He laughed aloud, causing Obi-Wan to lift his head to regard him.
"I remember that, Obi-Wan! I remember!" With triumph he began to kiss away the tears from Obi-Wan's cheeks, even as they both shed happy new ones. Then they kissed for real, as a celebration. Oh, the man was still so delicious. Qui-Gon would have wanted them to be doing this, and they were, bless his memory...
Yes, their privates were bumping, a lot like they had on that long-ago spring day, under the flowering tree. Only this time, no garments restricted them, and Obi-Wan was above. The deliciousness was drinking him, this time, running his talented tongue over Quin's teeth to where they parted, then delving deeper. All the more reason to smile. He felt as if Qui-Gon were actually with them, watching-- again, he reminded himself. He'd liked watching.
He and Obi-Wan could use their hands on each other now, and so they did. They were Jedi, and Jedi were supposed to get the thing over with as fast as possible. And yet, it was as if Qui-Gon were whispering in his ear: what's the hurry? Appreciation is not wrong. There is a need for beauty... yes, there had been a need for beauty, all right. His beauty. The galaxy had needed it.
And Obi-Wan was beautiful. The superfine hairs tickling against his own chest were beautiful, lying as they did in patterns as unique as a fingerprint. What he held in his hand was beautiful-- it was all of Obi-Wan, concentrated into a talisman of blood and flesh and warm sensation, and it spoke to his hand, of need and gratitude for what he was doing, to keep his friend strong, and ready for his Anakin. Just as he was doing this not only for himself, but for Aayla, to be ready for her. Aayla was beautiful, getting moreso every day; he knew it, bond or no bond. He would see for himself in the fullness of time. In memory of a lost love, in commitment to the future, they loved now.
They had each set up a smooth rhythm on the other, not identical, but intersecting, with a pleasantly regular counterpoint. He knew what Obi-Wan liked. It had changed through the years, as gradually as a tree grows. And from Obi-Wan, he had regained his likes for certain things, certain reassurances, some of which still pleased. That they were remembered by someone was touching in itself. He tried to convey his gratitude.
Obi-Wan's lip was rubbing pleasantly at his, but his tongue retreated, to gasp at what Quin's hand was doing below. Quin quickly captured the lip, sucked at it, just as Obi-Wan's hand did a certain thing to the tip of him that-- ah! a growl and a yell escaped Quin, and he bit down, and let go, at once. And at the assault on his lip, Obi-Wan followed him into release, into the Force.
Mere seconds later, as the sparks cleared from his vision, he tasted the blood of what he'd done. He was only a bit sorry. This would make a new memory. He lifted his sticky hand, and licked Obi-Wan off that, too. "You are so beautiful, Obi-Wan."
The smaller man had dropped his silken head onto Quin's shoulder, and was shivering a bit, looking up at him with those jewel-bright eyes. Quin pulled the covers closer around them. Obi-Wan finally stopped trembling, and let out a sigh. "He was here, Quin. You may not believe it, but he was."
He was smiling, though, out of that silky, scraggly new beard. To Quin, that was the main thing-- Kenobi smiled. All was well.
"I don't know," he said, noncommitally, and gave his dear friend another squeeze. It was returned, and accompanied by another sigh.
"What do I tell my padawan about my lip?"
Quin chuckled. "Tell him I punched you." That got a laugh in return.
"Yes, I suppose that is an age-appropriate eventuality."
"Sure. I said Qui-Gon liked flowers, and you said he'd never pick one, and I said I'd seen him do it on Troiken, and you said I didn't even remember the asassin bugs on Troiken, and one thing led to another."
"Oh, Quin, thank you. The perfect alibi." Not really, but it would suffice.
"No, thank you, Obi-Wan." And he put his lips to that smooth forehead, gently.
But when Kenobi was asleep, Quin wasn't. He was worrying at Aayla's still-silent padawan bond again; he couldn't let it alone for long. But it disturbed him a tiny bit less than it had.
A whole limb of his past had come back, with Kenobi's help. Like the dead-looking tree out there, in the Temple gardens, their bond would come back to life. When the Force willed.
And now it was time to sleep, like the tree, until spring.
end
* Hyperspace
**Vos Breakfast
***Ord Mantell Reunion
all
available at http://community.livejournal.com/quinlanvos100
_________________
author: helgaleena
Fandom: Star Wars: Quinlan Vos
Characters: Obi-Wan, Quin, Anakin
Prompt: 061: winter
Word Count:
Rating: NC-17
Author's Notes: Hurt-comfort, set immediately after Star Wars: Twilight, and TPM. Allusions to three other stories by me, of Obi, Qui, and Quin, listed at the end.
illustration by osiness
http://community.livejournal.com/quinlanvos100/19401.html
"I miss him so much, Quin," said the man in his arms.
"So do I," he answered. But really, about two-thirds of what he missed about Qui-Gon Jinn was derived from how much Obi-Wan missed him. A few of his own memories had seeped back, of the magnificent deceased, but really, the bulk of them were things Obi-Wan had shared with him, filling in after his mind-wipe.
Just now he had Kenobi's beautiful red-gold head pillowed against his chest, and his creamy back and shoulders warm against him, as they sat watching the Coruscant traffic glitter through the dark sky around the Temple. It was nice having a window in the sleeping room, especially when the season was dark. The view was much more calming than watching the huge holoscreen Anakin had dragged in from who knows where, and set up in the sitting room.
At the moment he felt more at home with Obi-Wan and Anakin than he did in his own quarters. He'd had to read every surface in there, in order for the place not to seem totally foreign. And when he'd gotten to Aayla's room, he'd nearly wept at the empty bed, that she'd last slept in before she turned sixteen. Where was she? How was she? He'd made himself read every surface in there, too, and then given up and cried. It had taken hours to stop. Then he had shut her door, and not entered since.
No, he definitely missed his padawan more than he did Qui-Gon. The bond was there. She wasn't dead. But since she didn't acknowledge its existence, it did him no good in finding her.
That was the difference. Dead was dead-- Qui-Gon was, and she was not. There was still hope, and the duty to nurture that hope. Qui-Gon was only memories, of which he was woefully short.
Obi-Wan kept Qui-Gon alive, though, by dwelling so frequently on his memory. He'd taught Anakin to do it, as well. Quin couldn't relate. But that was probably because he only knew his own master from reading the file on him. He knew he must've had one, so he'd looked it up-- still hadn't met him. This Tholme was a busy man, and he kept his silence. His shielding of the remnants of their training bond was perfect.
That was in character, according to the file on him. Tholme had been watchman of the Kiffu sector when Quin was born, had discovered him, and started training him on Kiffu. Then the Guardians had finally relented and released Quin for padawan training. Tholme followed him here, becoming a healer, then a covert operative. It sounded as if the man had dedicated his life to training his Kiffar padawan, then stepped away, as if molded by that training into something new entirely. Now he was, according to the file, "on permanent assignment." It didn't say where. He was a spy, after all.
And that was why Quinlan Vos had been a spy as well, he supposed. Besides the touch-reading, he was good at telepathy, could teleport and Force-reach pretty well when he wasn't rattled, and was quite good at invisibility. And another thing, which he had evidently learned from this Tholme-- he had a need to structure his life around his padawan's, dammit.
She needed him, wherever she was; it was a given-- she needed finding. She didn't know who she was! And the Aayla he had learned about, from the feel of her pink-bladed sabre, and from meeting the lovely vacant shell of her on Ryloth, pulled on his soul. Pulled on his heart...absently he stared into the Coruscant darkness. Force forgive him, he wanted her. Not just back as his student, but for her own sake. The blue girl had his heart.
He couldn't bear to think of touching the tall human who'd introduced herself as Shylar, the other day. She didn't do a thing for him, and he'd sensed relief mingled with her disappointment, when he'd not recognized her.
"She was your crush, Quin, when you turned twenty," Obi-Wan had murmured, after she'd turned away into the milling lunch crowd in the Temple canteen. He and Anakin were enough of a social gathering for Vos that lunch time, thanks very much. He'd raised one dark eyebrow, and then gone back to eating his soup.
"What's a crush, Master?"
"It's when you spend a lot of your free time with a certain someone for a while."
"You mean like me and Tru?" Anakin looked a bit puzzled, and as if he were wondering whether to be offended. Obi-Wan laughed lightly, with his new facial hair too sparse to disguise a bit of a flush. Quin saw, and tried not to grin himself. How would Master Kenobi get out of this one?
"No, Anakin, it's not just friendship. It's more-- adult."
"And it can go away later, like Knight Vos and Knight Shylar's did?"
"Very perceptive of you, Padawan."
The eleven-year-old scowled at his tray, then looked up with a stormy flash of blue eyes. "I don't think I'll bother having any, then."
Quin had to chuckle at that. But he didn't comment; not his place. Obi-Wan smiled wryly at the boy he'd once resented as a rival, and now treated with affection.
"Don't speak too soon, Anakin. Attachments form and dissolve naturally, as part of our normal social lives."
"Oh." Silence, as the boy toyed with the remains on his tray, then-- "Do you and Knight Vos have a crush, Master?"
Poor Obi-Wan's rosy lips had dropped open at that. His liquid green eyes flew to Quin, and his flush deepened. Quin decided to have a little mercy on him. He turned to the boy, dark eyes warm, dour mouth serious below the yellow horizon of his tattoo.
"No, Anakin, we're friends. We've been friends since long before you were born, when we were still padawans. Obi-Wan is helping me remember my past, to help with my re-training, in ways that only a very old friend could."
"Knight Vos, sir--"
"Quin."
"Quin, I heard your padawan is lost. I was really sorry to hear it. It hurts to even think about that. I don't know what I'd do without Master Obi-Wan."
"I don't know what he'd do without you either, Anakin." Quin smiled at the boy, briefly. He lifted the spoon for another bite of soup, but then set it back down.
Obi-Wan reached over and laid a hand upon Quin's wrapped wrist, which lay by the bowl. He looked his padawan in the eye. "Can you see why it's important for Quin to regain as much of his Jedi life as he can, as soon as possible, Anakin? He knows Aayla is alive-- somewhere. He has to prepare to bring back her memory, as well."
"Yes, Master." The boy blinked, absorbing this. "She could come back, and Master Qui-Gon can't. And we still remember him, all the time."
"Yes, we do."
Quin cleared his throat; he'd suddenly gone a bit hoarse. "I need to remember Aayla like that, Anakin. As well as remember how to be her master. I won't be a Master again until she has returned, and the Council approves it."
"You mean if I were gone, Master Kenobi might not be a master any longer?" Anakin's eyes were wide, and his mouth was making a tiny 'o'.
"Well--" and he coughed away the obstruction in his throat,--"when I'd lost my memory, I did some things that a Jedi should not, and have to prove myself again. Your master is in no danger of that." Surprisingly, that brought a frown to Obi-Wan's smooth brow. He turned to his padawan.
"That isn't strictly true, Anakin. The more mastery we gain over our Force abilities, the more possibilities there are for us to misuse them. A Jedi is always on alert against the lure of power for its own sake; the danger never really goes away."
Now Anakin was frowning, too, dark golden brows meeting, lower lip jutting. "Are you telling me this because I'm so powerful, Master? Because I know that I am."
"I'd be telling you this in any case, even if you were below average in the Force, Padawan."
Quin had nodded, backing him up, but he'd kept his eyes on the remains of lunch. Obi-Wan was up to the challenge of this one, Chosen or not.
Force, was he glad that beautiful man was in his arms right now. Obi-Wan's relaxation, and the nostalgia over the past he was reliving, was flowing directly from his warm back into Quin's belly and heart, through their gentle touching.
"That tree down there, Quin... It was springtime, when we first-- had sex together, I guess it was..." Quin chuckled as the memory flowed to him, of the dark fringe of Padawan Vos' silly hairdo, his molten brown eyes hovering close over a younger Obi-Wan, against a background of flowering branches. No, it wasn't exactly sex, and yet it still was. * Just like the tree they were looking at didn't seem alive. Yet when spring returned-- but Obi-Wan went on.
"I brought him there, Quin, when the fruits were ripe. And he told me--" Suddenly the emotions were very strong, and included an extremely personal kiss from the magnificent mouth of Qui-Gon Jinn. It wasn't meant for Quin, and resolutely he pulled his mind back and nudged Obi-Wan to shield, even as his own eyes filled and spilled down his dark cheeks. Yeah, the man could kiss.
"I'm sorry. Oh, and Anakin might get an echo of it-- I forgot, I forgot--" But though his mental shields went up, the tears of Master Kenobi still spilled out, and he turned in Quin's arms, to let them soak into his dark hair. In silence, in mental solitude and physical closeness, both let their grief flow, for the Master they had both loved.
When he could, Obi-Wan switched to a different memory, of a 'breakfast' the three of them had shared, on Ord Mantell. ** Quin's tears turned to smiles, as he contemplated the memory of his own mouth and Obi-Wan's from a new perspective. Appreciatively he wiped away some of the wetness from Obi-Wan's cheeks-- padawan then, Master now, still so forgiving.
And Qui-Gon had been there, too, of course... Unexpectedly his own memories, of things the two of them had been doing before Obi had arrived, things they had waited for years, patiently, for a chance to enact, flooded though him. It was as if an entire chamber of his mind, previously blank, were suddenly fully furnished again. An empty branch of his brain burst into flower-- a gift of the Force.*** He laughed aloud, causing Obi-Wan to lift his head to regard him.
"I remember that, Obi-Wan! I remember!" With triumph he began to kiss away the tears from Obi-Wan's cheeks, even as they both shed happy new ones. Then they kissed for real, as a celebration. Oh, the man was still so delicious. Qui-Gon would have wanted them to be doing this, and they were, bless his memory...
Yes, their privates were bumping, a lot like they had on that long-ago spring day, under the flowering tree. Only this time, no garments restricted them, and Obi-Wan was above. The deliciousness was drinking him, this time, running his talented tongue over Quin's teeth to where they parted, then delving deeper. All the more reason to smile. He felt as if Qui-Gon were actually with them, watching-- again, he reminded himself. He'd liked watching.
He and Obi-Wan could use their hands on each other now, and so they did. They were Jedi, and Jedi were supposed to get the thing over with as fast as possible. And yet, it was as if Qui-Gon were whispering in his ear: what's the hurry? Appreciation is not wrong. There is a need for beauty... yes, there had been a need for beauty, all right. His beauty. The galaxy had needed it.
And Obi-Wan was beautiful. The superfine hairs tickling against his own chest were beautiful, lying as they did in patterns as unique as a fingerprint. What he held in his hand was beautiful-- it was all of Obi-Wan, concentrated into a talisman of blood and flesh and warm sensation, and it spoke to his hand, of need and gratitude for what he was doing, to keep his friend strong, and ready for his Anakin. Just as he was doing this not only for himself, but for Aayla, to be ready for her. Aayla was beautiful, getting moreso every day; he knew it, bond or no bond. He would see for himself in the fullness of time. In memory of a lost love, in commitment to the future, they loved now.
They had each set up a smooth rhythm on the other, not identical, but intersecting, with a pleasantly regular counterpoint. He knew what Obi-Wan liked. It had changed through the years, as gradually as a tree grows. And from Obi-Wan, he had regained his likes for certain things, certain reassurances, some of which still pleased. That they were remembered by someone was touching in itself. He tried to convey his gratitude.
Obi-Wan's lip was rubbing pleasantly at his, but his tongue retreated, to gasp at what Quin's hand was doing below. Quin quickly captured the lip, sucked at it, just as Obi-Wan's hand did a certain thing to the tip of him that-- ah! a growl and a yell escaped Quin, and he bit down, and let go, at once. And at the assault on his lip, Obi-Wan followed him into release, into the Force.
Mere seconds later, as the sparks cleared from his vision, he tasted the blood of what he'd done. He was only a bit sorry. This would make a new memory. He lifted his sticky hand, and licked Obi-Wan off that, too. "You are so beautiful, Obi-Wan."
The smaller man had dropped his silken head onto Quin's shoulder, and was shivering a bit, looking up at him with those jewel-bright eyes. Quin pulled the covers closer around them. Obi-Wan finally stopped trembling, and let out a sigh. "He was here, Quin. You may not believe it, but he was."
He was smiling, though, out of that silky, scraggly new beard. To Quin, that was the main thing-- Kenobi smiled. All was well.
"I don't know," he said, noncommitally, and gave his dear friend another squeeze. It was returned, and accompanied by another sigh.
"What do I tell my padawan about my lip?"
Quin chuckled. "Tell him I punched you." That got a laugh in return.
"Yes, I suppose that is an age-appropriate eventuality."
"Sure. I said Qui-Gon liked flowers, and you said he'd never pick one, and I said I'd seen him do it on Troiken, and you said I didn't even remember the asassin bugs on Troiken, and one thing led to another."
"Oh, Quin, thank you. The perfect alibi." Not really, but it would suffice.
"No, thank you, Obi-Wan." And he put his lips to that smooth forehead, gently.
But when Kenobi was asleep, Quin wasn't. He was worrying at Aayla's still-silent padawan bond again; he couldn't let it alone for long. But it disturbed him a tiny bit less than it had.
A whole limb of his past had come back, with Kenobi's help. Like the dead-looking tree out there, in the Temple gardens, their bond would come back to life. When the Force willed.
And now it was time to sleep, like the tree, until spring.
end
* Hyperspace
**Vos Breakfast
***Ord Mantell Reunion
all
available at http://community.livejournal.com/quinlanvos100
_________________