Watching
the other man mutely for a long moment as Qui-Gon continued dressing,
Obi-Wan let out a soft noise that got the other man’s attention and
prompted him to turn his head enough to look at him with his
remaining eye. “I’m sorry…” Obi-Wan whispered.

Qui-Gon
blinked and then finished tying his belt before turning properly
around with a hand on the dresser for support. “What are you
apologizing for Obi-Wan?” He rumbled, face furrowed in confusion
which bunched his facial scar that crossed through his eye.

Shuffling
a bit on the bed, Obi-Wan pressed his hands together. “If it wasn’t
for me… you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” He swallowed harshly
while glancing down at his knees, biting his bottom lip roughly
enough to taste blood. If it wasn’t for Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon wouldn’t
have been tangled up with the Sith, wouldn’t ha-

A
warm hand cupped his cheek and Obi-Wan, its thumb tugging Obi-Wan’s
lip away from his teeth as he looked up quickly in surprise with
his pale eyes.
Qui-Gon had hopped over on his remaining foot, the crutches left
behind by the dresser as he smiled gently down at the redhead. “I
do not blame you Obi-Wan. You were not the one to wield the saber,
you were not the one to give the order and you were not the one who
attacked without mercy.” He rumbled, stroking the bleeding lip
carefully before zapping it with a bit of healing Force the old Jedi
master had learned.

Swallowing,
Obi-Wan’s eyes watered. “But he attacked because I was the-” He
rasped out only for Qui-Gon to interrupt him by shaking his head.

“True
but you did not ask for it. You were as much a victim as I was my
dear Obi-Wan and I have no blame for you,” He slid his arms around
the other man, being more careful of the mech arm than the flesh
since he was still uncertain of it. “I
know however that guilt, particularly guilt tied to injuries and
survival, is hard and therefor I know it may take you some time to
get around it but know that I do not blame you my dearest one.”
Qui-Gon pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s forehead.

Fisting
his hands into the tabards of Qui-Gon’s outfit, Obi-Wan sniffled
softly before nodding, smiling weakly.

He
didn’t think it was a feeling he could forget easily, the sight of
Qui-Gon’s body on the ground, limbs severed, forever seared into
his mind but maybe he could find the space to forgive himself one
day.

He
tugged lightly on the tabards. “Let me help you finish dressing?”
He whispered. “I know you want to do it yourself but… please?”
Obi-Wan added softly.

Smiling
tenderly, Qui-Gon nodded and shuffled back so Obi-Wan could stand,
clearly grateful for the support back to the dresser. “Lets get
ready and out of here huh? Anakin and Ahsoka are waiting for us.”
Qui-Gon rumbled quietly.

Nodding,
Obi-Wan guided the other back to the dresser, wiggling his bare toes
on the floor. “We’re going to our quarters finally?” He
questioned hopefully, beaming when Qui-Gon nodded.

“The
healers see it fit to release us finally though we both have
appointments for a few more weeks and I need to decide on my leg
prosthetic.” Qui-Gon chuckled quietly, pressing another fond kiss
to Obi-Wan’s forehead as the redhead picked up Qui-Gon’s belt.

Nodding,
Obi-Wan quietly helped Qui-Gon, a warmth opening up in his chest. ‘…I
could get used to this… I could get used to this if he lets me.’