Home: An Exiles Tale
by DBKate and KassPart 12
After a short time, I gently disentangle myself from his arms and smile at him. "And now, I hope you'll forgive me, dearest one, when I say that at least one of us is in desperate need of a bath." I wink as he scowls at me.
"Not enough water," he grumbles, but his eyes are twinkling.
"Nonsense," I reply briskly. "Plenty of water." Humming, I make my way to the 'fresher and set the controls for a bath.
"It's a horrible waste," he calls out, imitating me, and doing a shockingly good job of it. "We can't afford it, and I absolutely refuse to take it, so you may as well turn it off."
I weigh the bottles of bath oil in each hand. "Do you prefer sassroot or chardak?" I ask, returning the favor by imitating him.
"Neither. Turn it off." I hear the amusement in his voice, even as he tries for sternness.
"Chardak it is. If you don't mind, I think I'll double it, love. I used sonics all the way home and had my heart set on a good soak."
"Double it?!" he roars indignantly, and when I don't reply, he finally, bursts out laughing. "Yes, I think I'd like that very much, my heart."
"Good." I go back into the bedroom and hold out my hand to him so as to steady him when he sways. My arm is tight around his waist as we make our way to the 'fresher and I help him undress before he slowly lowers himself into the bath.
I strip and follow, carefully lowering myself opposite him and smile to see a warm, rosy flush fill his cheeks. "I like this," I say softly, brushing my thumb along his lips.
"Even better than the great baths of Thersbet?" he teases.
"Oh, much better." I pick up a bathcloth, wet it and pour some bathing oil on it. "For one thing, I didn't have anyone to share them with."
"You could have." His solemn eyes search mine.
I stop what I am doing and look up at him. "Never." Firmly. "Whatever Fate holds in store, there's one thing that will never change and that is my bond to you Qui-Gon. There will never be another -- not now, not ever." I lean in and brush my mouth against his. "Please don't think so little of me to believe otherwise."
He blinks and looks down. "No. Forgive me, love. This fever has rattled whatever was left of my good sense." He smiles weakly at me. "I suppose I'll never be used to having such a beautiful young man by my side."
"Pshaw, you speak as if I were some sort of adolescent." Mildly. "I can assure that no one else was of the opinion that I'm still a youth in my prime. Why even the damned fool who flew me to Alderaan called me patas." I return to washing Qui-Gon's chest, scowling at the memory.
"Patas?" He looks astonished and I watch as he bites his lip, trying very hard not to laugh. "He called you patas?"
"Go on, laugh," I growl. "It won't be so funny in a year or two."
"Oh, no," he chuckles. "Patas...oh, my."
"By then, I'll have no doubt lost every hair on my head." I use a tickle of Force to call another bottle into my hand and squirt it at him, watching as he laughs and ducks beneath a spray of foam. "My teeth will soon follow, and you can be quite sure I'll expect you to chew my food for me. So prepare yourself, Qui-Gon. You're in for the long haul."
"I look forward to it." He hesitates, merriment shining in his eyes. "My own patas."
I slide toward him and pull him close to me. Kiss him once hard, then again with a passion that has never flagged, not once in the fifteen years we've been as one. "A fine pair we'll be then," I gasp, rising and pulling up with me. "A fine pair of old bastards."
He laughs and allows me to help him out of the bath. I grab a bathsheet and quickly dry us off before tugging him toward our bed. I slowly tumble him down upon it, taking extra care to be gentle, but not so gentle as to let him think I no longer desire him.
Because nothing could be further from the truth.
The proof of his arousal isn't present, no, not at first, but I take my time, paying slow, careful attention to his most sensitive spots while reminding him of times past he'd particularly enjoyed.
I recall for him a mission on Symmetra, where we were given a decedent room, complete with a huge pallet covered with scarlet synthsilk and days to idle away before we had to appear in the Sharet's court.
With a whisper, I ask if he remembers it, remembers how he'd tied me to the pallet and spent what seemed like hours watching me twist and beg for release. Wonder aloud as to exactly how many times he'd taken me that night, whether it was in my mouth or elsewhere, and how I'd finally turned the tables on him, and how he'd ended up bound beneath me, thick white sashes wrapped around his wrists and ankles.
He arches up against me with a moan, and I finally feel him, hot and hard against my leg. "Old man indeed," I scoff gently.
"Well, I'm old, but not dead," he gasps and I chuckle against his skin, still warm and sweet-smelling from our bath. I take plum colored nipple and worry it gently between my teeth as he groans breathlessly. "Not yet, but soon, I think."
I squirm up and lick the whorl of his earlobe. "No such luck." Whispered. "I have you now as I had you then, love." I slide down the length of his body, kissing every spot as I work my way toward his shaft, which is rampant and beautiful, waiting for me. "In fact, I think this my be your new job from now on." A long, slow lick up his pulsing length. "I'd always thought you'd make an excellent bedslave."
Another groan and he squirms beneath me. I tease him a little longer before finally giving into his entreaties and taking him in my mouth, gently licking the hot velvet, taking my time and waiting for him, waiting for the spiral of ecstasy I know as well as my own. I can feel his heartbeat quicken as he arches beneath me, protesting at first, then murmuring my name, until he finally calls out to me, silently, over our bond as he used to, so long ago.
That is enough to set me off and I explode against the bedlinens, even as the warmth of his orgasm fills my mouth, salty and sea-sweet. He shivers against me as I slide up and embrace him tightly.
"I am so glad you've returned, my love. So glad."
I pull him to me and hold him, unwilling to ever let him go. "As am I, Qui-Gon. As am I."
Hours later we lie together, entwined and sated. His head rests easily against my chest and I rub my cheek against what is left of his hair, the spiky strands tickling my skin.
"It will grow back," he murmurs. "It always did."
"I know. I've just grown used to it as it was, that's all." I hesitate. "Of course, if you wish to keep it short..."
"No. It will grow again."
There is silence after that and I watch as the fifth moon rises over to the west of our homestead. It's my favorite of Tatooine's six moons, Kurnos, The Blue Giant. If I look long enough, it's not hard to imagine its green mountains, surrounded by trees and the lake beds that cover half of the upper hemisphere. Kurnos lies in such a strong contrast to its barren mother planet, and for a moment, I wonder why the entire population hasn't abandoned their hard life on Tatooine to take advantage of the lushness that lies just leagues away.
I then look at the quiet face that rests against my chest and again, I remember why.
My bondmate's quiet voice interrupts my reverie. "In regards to our friend...Amidala..." He is stammering slightly and I can feel his grief as if it were my own.
I decide to be honest with him. This has been a source of sadness for him for far too long, and the time for closure has come. "It was a difficult death, as her pain was of the kind that couldn't be treated with medicine." I gently stroke his forehead. "But she did have a message for you. She said that you were not to blame, that we all were the plaything of Fate, nothing more. That our paths are sometimes forged before our birth, and fighting against them is useless."
"She loved him still, didn't she?" Hoarsely.
I close my eyes, the memory of Amidala's tearful confession painfully clear. "Yes. She admitted as much."
He takes a shuddering breath. "And I'm the one who took her away from him. I...I thought it was for the best. I wanted to save her, wanted to save all of us, but...again, I must be quite the arrogant creature to think that I can save the universe without the slightest cost." A short, bitter laugh. "What a fool I must be."
"I don't think her life would have lasted much longer with Vader than it did on Alderaan," I reply drily. "And I think it would have been decidedly more unpleasant. And the children...no, Qui-Gon, you did the right thing."
Painfully, he lifts his head and props himself onto his elbow. His eyes search mine and they are as solemn and grave as I've ever seen them. "Obi-Wan, if you'd been the one who had fallen to Darkness, no power in the galaxy could have made me leave your side. I was wrong to take Padme away from her husband, wrong to force her to leave her home against her heart, no matter what dark fate lay in store."
I swallow hard and nod. "Perhaps. But the past..."
He slowly sinks back down and rests his head against my heart. "The past is to be learned from, stored aside, but not forgotten. We are to be mindful of the present and wary of the future." He closes his eyes. "I will learn this lesson some day, I hope. But for now, I must be mindful of my failures."
"She waits for him," I blurt out. Qui's eyes open and he regards me curiously. "I saw her, saw her in shadow form after her death as it was her who bid me to return to Tatooine. I know she is there still, waiting within the Living Force for Vader."
He blinks. "But, but when a fallen one dies..."
"I know." I shake my head. "Vader cannot join the Force if he dies in Darkness, but still, she waits for him. Her faith must be great."
"Or perhaps her foreknowledge." Qui-Gon's eyes widen and I see a wild spark of hope fill them. He sits up and runs shaking hands through his shorn hair. "Perhaps this is a portent, perhaps she'd been given a glimpse of the future. If he can be saved...saved through love..."
I prop myself up and give him a warning glance. "Qui..." But he isn't listening to me, instead, he is smiling at the thought of Anakin's redemption, and is suddenly looking much healthier, his eyes and face glowing with hope.
"Yes. Not defeated, but saved." He slowly lays back down, smiling senselessly. "Ah, my dear queen, my little Padme. I think there will be a happy ending after all. For all of us."
I sigh and pull him to me. "Well, either way, we shall do what we've been sworn to do. Watch and wait."
"Yes. Watch and wait, my love." He burrows against me and with a sigh, I pull the comforter over his shoulders, making sure the night chill is keep far away. Over our bond, I no longer feel the grief he has held onto for so long, instead I feel the warm flicker of hope shining where there once was nothing but sorrow.
I wonder if I can share in that hope, but instead, I will reserve my judgement. The present demands other things of me, not least of which is repairing the damage I've done by my absence.
While remaining vigilant to uphold my oaths and ever protect...
Ever cherish my home.
My Obi-Wan is home. Although I am still not permitted up and about, he has graciously given me leave to lie on the divan this afternoon, and I am watching him work in the kitchen, no doubt preparing something to tempt an old man's appetite.
Despite the sorrow of Amidala's death, I feel new hope that Anakin may not be lost after all, that the Emperor will be defeated and the Force balanced. I know Obi-Wan thinks of it as an old man's last rag of hope, but it feels true, and he--as he always is--is kind enough to allow me that hope.
He is home.
Just watching him move around the kitchen as he mutters under his breath, trying to slice vegetables with Jepta underfoot--I have to swallow hard, I had not thought to see him performing the daily, homely tasks of our life here. I had not thought to see him at all, although I didn't begrudge him. Imagine, he is now convinced that he's aging because a wet behind the ears transport pilot called him 'patas'. A chuckle wants to escape my throat, but he would only come to see what it is, and I like watching him too well to disturb him at this moment.
There is time for holding one another later, and this moment is too precious, too unexpected.
He was hurt at first that I had not expected him to return; I tried to explain, and I think he understands. I hope he understands. I'm not immune to self-doubt, of course, but it wasn't simply that, it was the certainty that he was needed elsewhere. As is so often true, though, he was wiser than this old man, he recognized that his duty was not in leading a fleet, but in guarding the future. If that also means he recognized this was his home, well, I am a lucky man, ancient or not, to have this man love me so well.
He looks up and gives me the sweet smile that shows so seldom, the smile that reminds me of a younger, more mischievous, more carefree man. My throat tightens at seeing it; it seems we've both been too careworn for too long, and the warmth in his gaze and smile ease the last of my shame and sadness over failing him, over aging, over being ill and helpless.
Outside, the first sun has reached the horizon and begun to set. He moves out of the kitchen and comes to nudge me up for a handful of raw l'it roots. "These are good for the chest, M'ganna says," he tells me. "So get used to eating a lot of them."
I can't help laughing a little. My authoritative love, I swear, it's quite humbling these days to be cared for. "It's a good thing they're tasty," I tell him and take one, biting into the slightly peppery root with relish. I'm tired of the bland invalid's diet, and the fresh l'it is wonderful. He absently bites into one himself, leans across me to peer, squinting, through the sunshield. "Almost sunset."
I nod, absently reaching down to scratch Jepta's ears; he has taken a liking to Obi-Wan, which is a great trial to my beloved. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan is kind to the little creature, and has somehow managed to hold his tongue about the obvious stupidity of bringing a sick kit into the house when I was already exhausted.
"It's good to be home," he murmurs, still peering outside; his gaze comes back to meet mine and I see his worry for an instant before that smile returns. "Very good to be home." Then, because he is still Obi-Wan, he adds, "Of course, it would be better if I had not found you ill." Pointedly.
"I hardly did it deliberately," I say mildly.
He leans forward to embrace me, to hold me hard against him for a moment. "I know that." Muffled voice, and he draws back, manages another of those treasured smiles. "Nevertheless, I don't think I'll be leaving again if this is what happens." The smile ebbs and he traces my jaw with a fingertip. "Not for all the riches of the universe, Qui." Softly.
I blink hard. "Well, I never thought you tempted by that."
"Nor for any other temptation," he tells me firmly, and cannot resist rolling his eyes. "Besides, who knows what else might have taken up residence before my return. At least Jepta is clean."
"S'ka, S'ka are."
"You know what I mean." He leans forward and kisses me, his mouth warm and gentle. "If I have to use Force to bind you, you aren't to work this cycle."
I must have looked as mutinous as I felt. "Or at least, nothing more than light things here in the house." Sudden wicked grin. "And, of course, my pleasure."
I can't help laughing. "You've strange tastes in bedslaves, my love. Surely someone younger, more virile--"
But he stops my mouth with fingertips. "You are all that I need." Simply. "And this is all I need." A gesture around the room.
There is some strain gone from around his eyes, some tension gone from his jaw. And some pain or burden is gone from my heart: the surety of Vader's loss, and more, the certainty of Obi-Wan's misery.
He looks around the room, but his gaze comes back to me. "You were right, beloved." Smiling a little. "This is our home now. And we are doing our duty here, unrecognized and in patience."
My vision blurs and I have to swallow hard. "Welcome home, beloved. Oh, welcome home."
He folds me back into his arms, and I am content. Old man or not, I have everything I could ever need.
He is home.
Finis
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