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applecameronA long time ago in a galaxy far, far, away, a zine was once planned. It was intended to be a followup to the SW zine "Episode 69" (an original trilogy Star Wars 'zine), after "Phantom Menace" was released and we encountered...the glory...that was Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Anyways, we never got around to it, and as a result I have had fic sitting on a machine for ages that has never seen the light of day. Tut, tut. So, here's one dug out from the ol' sea-chest, to make up for me pushing my ETA on the new Blood fic back a bit. Early next week on 'Corinthians', I think, now. (Got all migraine-y last night, stayed away from computers today as a result.)
Title : "Evening on Farsid"
Author : Apple Cameron, 2000? 2001?
Category: standalone, AU
Rating : R
Spoilers: SW: Phantom Menace
keywords: slash, m/m, Q/O
disclaim: standard self-referential witty disclaimer here.
Evening on Farsid
Training Room 12, Morning.
The room was closed in, blocked off from distractions. Obi-Wan Kenobi faced his master in a small ring on a mat floor. There was no sound but that of their own breathing. Kenobi wore his tunic and pants, the rest of his attire was piled in a heap near the door. His opponent wore nothing.
The day had not gone well, and this return to simple exercise was an attempt to refocus, restructure, renew. Obi-Wan had never sparred with Yoda as a padawan, and had discovered that the extreme disparity between their physiogomies gave them both unique advantages and disadvantages. Many of the lessons he had learned from Qui-Gon Jinn were repeated, in a different form. A non-too- subtle reminder that life went on, that nothing was truly lost. He disagreed. He felt lost.
He was failing Anakin, unable to move through his grief, unable to begin forming the emotional bonds required between a padawan learner and his master. He was failing Qui-Gon.
The full attention of the Jedi Council was on Skywalker and himself, and Kenobi was sure he did not bear up well under that scrutiny. It was difficult to make his gaze meet that of Yoda's, even in this simple ring, where rank, in theory, was meaningless.
In order to wrestle Yoda, Obi-Wan placed himself in a tenuous physical position that gave the master great advantage. Yet, should he desire it, his comparatively great height lent him his own advantage once the two had closed for battle. In one sense, they were horrendously mismatched. In another, their cojoined disparities were perfect.
Obi-Wan crouched low and they came together. Yoda's entire body was so small it was as if he was his own complete, compact, center of mass. A pivot around which Obi-Wan applied his own body as lever. When he tried to overwhelm the master with sheer strength, he was pinned on his back, every time.
One moment, he was sweating on his back, looking at Yoda's ear flick back and forth and considering that the rules did not permit biting, the next he was held in place by Qui-Gon's familiar, sweaty arm.
"What?" came the gasp.
"You'll have to move quicker than that, Padawan." He said it with a smile, but did not move. "You know that I have a longer reach and greater weight, so what must you focus upon?"
"Control of my mass center, and speed, Master." The arm let up.
"Good. Let us begin again."
Obi-Wan felt his heart lift as his master's arm moved. They faced one another in the ring for a long moment, and he studied Qui-Gon's, drinking in the light from the other man's face. His master smiled, then leapt.
The first time had been suprising, the second shocking, by the third or fourth "visitation", it was already somehow commonplace. Obi-Wan was never afraid, did not feel pain until returning to himself. The sensation of laying on a pallet, only to turn in the light of dawn and see his own padawan learner's face, instead of that of his master, was the only pain he felt. That something had gone horribly awry. That he was somehow in the wrong place. If only there was a corner somewhere that he could turn and have the universe be righted. If only Qui-Gon lived.
"These visions are not Qui-Gon." Mace Windu declared.
"Yes, Master."
The dark-skinned Jedi sighed. "And they are becoming more frequent?"
"I believe so, Master. Yesterday's was the longest. Master Yoda tells me I was...gone...for most of mid-morning."
Waking in the care of healers had been devastating. One moment he was walking alongside Qui-Gon, towards their shared quarters, sweaty from their wrestling bout. He felt unconcerned, happy, his heart light. A moment later he was lying on his back in an unfamiliar room, looking at Yoda.
"What troubles you with such effect? We have lost other masters," Windu looked up and out the window for a moment, then back to Obi-Wan. "No padawan has experienced this kind of response."
"I am sorry, Master Windu."
"Do not be sorry, Obi-Wan, you do nothing wrong." Windu's voice had approached sharp, now softened into its normal tones. "Grief takes its own shape with each one of us. This is an unexpected one. It does not," He stressed, steepling his fingers under his chin, bald head reflecting the ceiling light, "mean we cannot pass through this grief, and it does not mean you are lost, or failing us with your love for your master." Obi-Wan kept his head bowed. His love for his master was a topic better left untouched. Their sexual relationship had been a new one, growing only when Qui-Gon had judged their bond as mentor and student would remain unmarred by this new facet. It was hard enough waking up and remembering Qui-Gon was dead, every morning, without waking up and remembering making love to him.
"What shall I do, Master Windu?"
The master was silent, though Kenobi knew the topic had been discussed, at length, long before he entered the room.
"Be not afraid. I or Master Yoda will remain near you. We will not evict Master Qui-Gon from your heart, only strive to pass through the grief of his absence and into calm. Anakin shall go to Master Singh."
Their eyes met. "If she and Skywalker find their place with one another, Anakin will remain her padawan. You will have fulfilled Qui-Gon's desire. She is a fine Jedi, and your strength is needed for this other task. Now, meditate with me."
Obi-Wan bowed his head and shut his eyes. Qui-Gon heaved a deep breath near him, then began to chant a simple focusing ritual, voice ringing clear in the silence, resounding in the queer, double-visioned room where he and Qui-Gon meditated, and he and Mace Windu kneeled facing one another. Windu faded from view.
Time passed and Anakin remained with Master Singh. Obi-Wan saw him daily, the young boy was sprouting like a weed in all directions, physically, and in the Force. Anakin looked at him curiously sometimes, but wouldn't respond with more than the occasional claim of seeing Master Qui-Gon.
Yoda and Obi-Wan spent a great deal of time together, almost as if Kenobi were still a padawan. He wasn't a proper Jedi, really, in his state, so an improper scholarship with the wizened master was quite acceptable. Yoda did not push, merely asked Obi-Wan to escort him on various errands, remaining on Coruscant at the Temple. It was strange to not travel, but slowly, slowly, Obi-Wan became accustomed to the idea of dawn on the same planet, everyday. He grew to not speak of the occasional nighttime dreams of Qui-Gon Jinn, the living dreams of training with his master, that came to him. To accept. He was calm, reassured by Yoda or Windu after a daytime episode, ceasing to be startled at the sudden comings and goings of his master and the ceiling of the healer's room. He knew Qui-Gon would not let him come to harm. Serenity approached from a distance, but he could see it coming.
They were in a forest. It was chill, near sunset. "Master!"
"Obi-Wan."
"Where are we?"
"Do you not recognize this place?" Qui-Gon Jinn was wrapped in a dark robe, sitting against a tree. "We came here when you were first my padawan."
"Farsid."
"Yes. You loved the trees so."
"I loved being with you, Master." Obi-Wan was trembling. This was no vision, no dream. He was there. He stood on the mossy turf of Farsid. The wind in the trees made a vibrating sound, the tiny leaves clinking against one another. His master was a few strides away, and Kenobi closed the distance between them without being aware of it. His arms pulling Qui-Gon away from the tree, toward his own lips, he sank into his master's body.
"Padawan." There was a sigh that came from them both, a sigh that matched the sound of the leaves in the wind, a sigh that said everything.
"Master, I have missed you so."
They made love in the slow sunset of Farsid, the cold creeping up on them only to steam off their naked bodies. Qui-Gon was immense, causing an incredible sensation of splitting and cleaving together that Obi-Wan couldn't contain, couldn't release with just his voice. Everything in him arched and cried out with each thrust, the two men laying on their sides, Qui-Gon stroking slowly, breath against Obi-Wan's neck, large hands wrapping his body and holding him close. Obi-Wan floated, his leg, an arm, one cheek pressing again and again to the moss of the forest floor. He breathed deeper and deeper the odor of Farsid, the scent of his master, his own sweat. Qui-Gon Jinn roared over his head, out into the woods, and Obi-Wan knew he was where he belonged.
A young man's body lay quiet and still on a bed, undisturbed by the bustle of healers surrounding him.
Anyways, we never got around to it, and as a result I have had fic sitting on a machine for ages that has never seen the light of day. Tut, tut. So, here's one dug out from the ol' sea-chest, to make up for me pushing my ETA on the new Blood fic back a bit. Early next week on 'Corinthians', I think, now. (Got all migraine-y last night, stayed away from computers today as a result.)
Title : "Evening on Farsid"
Author : Apple Cameron, 2000? 2001?
Category: standalone, AU
Rating : R
Spoilers: SW: Phantom Menace
keywords: slash, m/m, Q/O
disclaim: standard self-referential witty disclaimer here.
Evening on Farsid
Training Room 12, Morning.
The room was closed in, blocked off from distractions. Obi-Wan Kenobi faced his master in a small ring on a mat floor. There was no sound but that of their own breathing. Kenobi wore his tunic and pants, the rest of his attire was piled in a heap near the door. His opponent wore nothing.
The day had not gone well, and this return to simple exercise was an attempt to refocus, restructure, renew. Obi-Wan had never sparred with Yoda as a padawan, and had discovered that the extreme disparity between their physiogomies gave them both unique advantages and disadvantages. Many of the lessons he had learned from Qui-Gon Jinn were repeated, in a different form. A non-too- subtle reminder that life went on, that nothing was truly lost. He disagreed. He felt lost.
He was failing Anakin, unable to move through his grief, unable to begin forming the emotional bonds required between a padawan learner and his master. He was failing Qui-Gon.
The full attention of the Jedi Council was on Skywalker and himself, and Kenobi was sure he did not bear up well under that scrutiny. It was difficult to make his gaze meet that of Yoda's, even in this simple ring, where rank, in theory, was meaningless.
In order to wrestle Yoda, Obi-Wan placed himself in a tenuous physical position that gave the master great advantage. Yet, should he desire it, his comparatively great height lent him his own advantage once the two had closed for battle. In one sense, they were horrendously mismatched. In another, their cojoined disparities were perfect.
Obi-Wan crouched low and they came together. Yoda's entire body was so small it was as if he was his own complete, compact, center of mass. A pivot around which Obi-Wan applied his own body as lever. When he tried to overwhelm the master with sheer strength, he was pinned on his back, every time.
One moment, he was sweating on his back, looking at Yoda's ear flick back and forth and considering that the rules did not permit biting, the next he was held in place by Qui-Gon's familiar, sweaty arm.
"What?" came the gasp.
"You'll have to move quicker than that, Padawan." He said it with a smile, but did not move. "You know that I have a longer reach and greater weight, so what must you focus upon?"
"Control of my mass center, and speed, Master." The arm let up.
"Good. Let us begin again."
Obi-Wan felt his heart lift as his master's arm moved. They faced one another in the ring for a long moment, and he studied Qui-Gon's, drinking in the light from the other man's face. His master smiled, then leapt.
The first time had been suprising, the second shocking, by the third or fourth "visitation", it was already somehow commonplace. Obi-Wan was never afraid, did not feel pain until returning to himself. The sensation of laying on a pallet, only to turn in the light of dawn and see his own padawan learner's face, instead of that of his master, was the only pain he felt. That something had gone horribly awry. That he was somehow in the wrong place. If only there was a corner somewhere that he could turn and have the universe be righted. If only Qui-Gon lived.
"These visions are not Qui-Gon." Mace Windu declared.
"Yes, Master."
The dark-skinned Jedi sighed. "And they are becoming more frequent?"
"I believe so, Master. Yesterday's was the longest. Master Yoda tells me I was...gone...for most of mid-morning."
Waking in the care of healers had been devastating. One moment he was walking alongside Qui-Gon, towards their shared quarters, sweaty from their wrestling bout. He felt unconcerned, happy, his heart light. A moment later he was lying on his back in an unfamiliar room, looking at Yoda.
"What troubles you with such effect? We have lost other masters," Windu looked up and out the window for a moment, then back to Obi-Wan. "No padawan has experienced this kind of response."
"I am sorry, Master Windu."
"Do not be sorry, Obi-Wan, you do nothing wrong." Windu's voice had approached sharp, now softened into its normal tones. "Grief takes its own shape with each one of us. This is an unexpected one. It does not," He stressed, steepling his fingers under his chin, bald head reflecting the ceiling light, "mean we cannot pass through this grief, and it does not mean you are lost, or failing us with your love for your master." Obi-Wan kept his head bowed. His love for his master was a topic better left untouched. Their sexual relationship had been a new one, growing only when Qui-Gon had judged their bond as mentor and student would remain unmarred by this new facet. It was hard enough waking up and remembering Qui-Gon was dead, every morning, without waking up and remembering making love to him.
"What shall I do, Master Windu?"
The master was silent, though Kenobi knew the topic had been discussed, at length, long before he entered the room.
"Be not afraid. I or Master Yoda will remain near you. We will not evict Master Qui-Gon from your heart, only strive to pass through the grief of his absence and into calm. Anakin shall go to Master Singh."
Their eyes met. "If she and Skywalker find their place with one another, Anakin will remain her padawan. You will have fulfilled Qui-Gon's desire. She is a fine Jedi, and your strength is needed for this other task. Now, meditate with me."
Obi-Wan bowed his head and shut his eyes. Qui-Gon heaved a deep breath near him, then began to chant a simple focusing ritual, voice ringing clear in the silence, resounding in the queer, double-visioned room where he and Qui-Gon meditated, and he and Mace Windu kneeled facing one another. Windu faded from view.
Time passed and Anakin remained with Master Singh. Obi-Wan saw him daily, the young boy was sprouting like a weed in all directions, physically, and in the Force. Anakin looked at him curiously sometimes, but wouldn't respond with more than the occasional claim of seeing Master Qui-Gon.
Yoda and Obi-Wan spent a great deal of time together, almost as if Kenobi were still a padawan. He wasn't a proper Jedi, really, in his state, so an improper scholarship with the wizened master was quite acceptable. Yoda did not push, merely asked Obi-Wan to escort him on various errands, remaining on Coruscant at the Temple. It was strange to not travel, but slowly, slowly, Obi-Wan became accustomed to the idea of dawn on the same planet, everyday. He grew to not speak of the occasional nighttime dreams of Qui-Gon Jinn, the living dreams of training with his master, that came to him. To accept. He was calm, reassured by Yoda or Windu after a daytime episode, ceasing to be startled at the sudden comings and goings of his master and the ceiling of the healer's room. He knew Qui-Gon would not let him come to harm. Serenity approached from a distance, but he could see it coming.
They were in a forest. It was chill, near sunset. "Master!"
"Obi-Wan."
"Where are we?"
"Do you not recognize this place?" Qui-Gon Jinn was wrapped in a dark robe, sitting against a tree. "We came here when you were first my padawan."
"Farsid."
"Yes. You loved the trees so."
"I loved being with you, Master." Obi-Wan was trembling. This was no vision, no dream. He was there. He stood on the mossy turf of Farsid. The wind in the trees made a vibrating sound, the tiny leaves clinking against one another. His master was a few strides away, and Kenobi closed the distance between them without being aware of it. His arms pulling Qui-Gon away from the tree, toward his own lips, he sank into his master's body.
"Padawan." There was a sigh that came from them both, a sigh that matched the sound of the leaves in the wind, a sigh that said everything.
"Master, I have missed you so."
They made love in the slow sunset of Farsid, the cold creeping up on them only to steam off their naked bodies. Qui-Gon was immense, causing an incredible sensation of splitting and cleaving together that Obi-Wan couldn't contain, couldn't release with just his voice. Everything in him arched and cried out with each thrust, the two men laying on their sides, Qui-Gon stroking slowly, breath against Obi-Wan's neck, large hands wrapping his body and holding him close. Obi-Wan floated, his leg, an arm, one cheek pressing again and again to the moss of the forest floor. He breathed deeper and deeper the odor of Farsid, the scent of his master, his own sweat. Qui-Gon Jinn roared over his head, out into the woods, and Obi-Wan knew he was where he belonged.
A young man's body lay quiet and still on a bed, undisturbed by the bustle of healers surrounding him.