Author: Amy Fortuna
Fandom: Star Wars, Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan
Category: POV, Angst, Romance
Disclaimer: Lucas owns them? Why can't he get them to stop talking to me, then?
Feedback: Of course.
Summary: Qui-Gon watches Obi-Wan from the vantage point of the Force.
Notes: This snippet-y is inspired by the wonderful song "Scarecrow's Dream" by Dan Fogelburg.
"And if you ever hear me calling out
And if you've been by paupers crowned
Between the worlds of men and make-believe
I may be found."
--"Scarecrow's Dream" by Dan Fogelburg
I made so many plans for the two of us, my Obi-Wan. We were going to be the quickest, fastest, strongest team of Jedi the Republic had ever seen; we were going to out-diplomatize the best of the best; we were going to be lovers and friends until we joined the Force, hand in hand, when we had both grown old and weary.
I shake my head as I think of my optimism; I was so sure that nothing could stand in our way. I was so young, younger than you, to believe that life would not hand us a rotten fruit, to think we could so easily conquer anything that came between or against us.
By the Force that beats through me, I love you. I love you with every breath, more and more as I watch you, even through the years that are so cruel to you. Sometimes I wonder why you can't see me, why you look straight at me, and then straight through me.
What eyes do you see with, my Obi-Wan? What are you looking for as you stare up at the stars in the desert night?
Oh, you are still beautiful. Even as old as I was then, you are regal, stately, princely. You should be ruler of a planet, as your heritage would have made you, not a lonely Jedi stuck in hiding on the most unfruitful planet in the galaxy.
But the Force decreed it otherwise. And if I was a true servant of the Force, if my whole being was bound up in what the Force willed, not what I willed, I would accept our fate.
I can't help but be selfish. I want to hold you. I want to kiss you. I want to lie in bed with you and listen to your heartbeat, and know that you love me and I love you and even eternity cannot tear us apart.
I didn't say the words "I love you" enough. I felt them, yes, felt them so strong I would have sworn they burned through into your skin when we made love -- but I didn't say them every time I could have. We had to divide our time in our separate roles, so that too often a talk between lover and lover would become a lecture from Master to Padawan. I regret that. I wish I had spent more time listening, not teaching.
Oh, my padawan, I wish I could touch you. Right now -- just reach out in the dimness of the night and brush my hand across your sleeve. I would give my soul for it. I have already given my heart to the very thought of it.
There is an ancient group of lovers who take solemn vows never to embrace their beloved ones, instead contenting themselves with writing poetry about how much they would like to touch their loves if they only could. The forbidden excites, you see.
You, being alive and beloved, are forbidden. Not only forbidden, but wellnigh impossible.
Only if you call, can I show myself. That will never happen, for who calls on the dead for an embrace? The living are taught to move on, to remember the beloved dead, but not to whisper in the night as though the lover was with them.
Oh, Obi-Wan, I feel like a frozen stream here, waiting for eternity, waiting for you to call, waiting and hoping. It would be so simple, a mere word from your lips, a mere hand stretched out, and I could be in your arms.
Will time and patience lead me to your embrace? Or will I wait and wait until your death, there to catch you in my arms as you fall?
It would be so easy, my Obi-Wan, so easy. Look between the worlds of men and make-believe. That is where I may be found.
Ah, yes. There. You turn toward me, your hand reaches out.
I smile and step into your embrace. And it is real.