Title: The Definition of Love

Author: Amy Fortuna (peacefulpassion@aldar.net)

Rating: G

Warnings: Very mild slashiness, can be interpreted as non-slash.

Disclaimer: George, I don't own Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan -- just playing here, no money made.

Archive: Sure, go ahead if you want to.

Notes: Just a question that wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it down. *sigh* Very short. :-)


I remember, in these dark days, a question I asked my Master, in the earliest days of my apprenticeship, when I was only ten. I'd sketched a quick bow before him as he sat reading on the couch, a sign between us that I had something to say. He, in turn, laid aside the datapad and held out his hand.

"What is it, Padawan?" he had asked, as I climbed into his lap. I rested my head against his shoulder and asked my question.

"Master, what is...love?" I said, a trifle embarassed by the word. He smiled, a wistful smile, and drew me closer. A pause of several breaths went by before he answered.

"Obi-Wan, love is...when you would give up your life for someone else."

I furrowed my brow. "You mean die for them?" I said. "But all Jedi would do that for anyone who needed saving."

He smiled again and his eyes went very soft. "I didn't say die for them, my Padawan," he answered.

And as the years flew by, I pondered that conversation, day after day. I did not understand how someone could give up his life, but not die.

Not until that dreadful day when a Sith's blade pierced my Master and he remained alive only long enough to ask me to train Anakin, did I understand.

Anakin was not someone whose life I wanted to take charge of. Yet I was saying "Yes, Master," almost before he said the words to me.

Why this overwhelmingly powerful desire to do anything my master wished, no matter the cost? And whence came the resolve to see Anakin's training through myself, to carry out Qui-Gon's wishes to the letter?

Love. It must be love.

And it was then that I knew how someone could give up his life and not die. For that was precisely what I was doing.

Every moment of the next ten to fifteen years will be as a love-gift to Qui-Gon; every second I spend training Anakin will be as if I were to tell my master "I love you," over and over.

I love you, Qui-Gon Jinn. I am sorry I never did tell you, but instead I'll make it up to you by proving it.

Come, Anakin, it's time to cut your hair and clothe you in the outfit of a Jedi padawan. You will be a Jedi, if love can make it so.