Obi-wan crawls out of his grave. Qui-Gon and Anakin are there to witness this. Bonus points for angst and hugs.
Ambling
forward on his long legs, Qui-Gon frowned as the Force continued to
hurriedly prod him along the path, as
if he doesn’t have time to linger or let anyone catch up to him.
The
last four years had not been kind to the man who
had once breathed and lived the Living Force and the Moment as he so
often spoke about,
the decaying heart bond to his former, (no, never former, always
belong to Obi-Wan, dearest Obi-Wan), had twisted Qui-Gon Jinn’s
sense of the Force where he was now more prone to the Force
precognition and visions.
The
mind healers had worried about it for a while until Qui-Gon, to the
relief of those who knew him, adapted to it and showed that he as not
going to just lay over and let the visions consume him without
at least trying to handle them.
His
grief and
the stress
had taken the last of his youth too, his hair now a stark white along
with his beard and brows though he had finally started to laugh once
more to the relief of those who knew him.
A
cane always hung on his belt or was in use as now Qui-Gon’s knees
suffered more for his age and
height
regardless how long lived his people were.
But
grief had taken it’s due and that was clearly visible on the man.
Rushing
after the white haired Jedi, a freshly knighted blond followed with a
deep frown on his own
face.
Anakin
was a young knight, a knight of great renown but he was also a knight
who still followed his master.
Half
of it was by own desire and half of it was by a quiet request of the
council, who still feared that Qui-Gon would lay his life down in a
meaningless battle.
Especially
now.
Because
their mission had brought them to Tol-Ann and if the council could
send anyone
else they would have but Qui-Gon Jinn had been needed.
Because
this was the world and region Obi-Wan had died in.
Qui-Gon
knew that Anakin had carried a stone in his stomach since they were
given the news of their mission, knew that the young man must have
argued with the council behind closed doors but Qui-Gon’s delicate,
and sometimes not so delicate, skills at negotiation had been
required.
And
now they were suppose to leave but…
The
Force was dragging, yelping, whining in Qui-Gon’s ear and he would
listen even if visions and precognition was something that had become
his with Obi-Wan’s death.
‘And
Obi-Wan always handled them didn’t he?’ Qui-Gon questioned
himself as he walked the gravel path between the rows of graves, the
planet’s tradition of burying their people in wooden boxes and
leaving markers quite beautiful.
Some
of the markers were made of colored glass, some were stone, some had
memory moths trapped inside in sheer glass, some were filled with
light…
But
Qui-Gon’s sense of the Force was leading him down towards one
grave.
Black
stone, almost unmarked, sans a date that Qui-Gon’s eyes couldn’t
quite make out until he got closer.
But
also the bulging of the earth, as if something was pressing up.
His
heart was speeding up, he could hear Anakin call out behind him as
Qui-Gon used his longs legs and broke into a run just as a hand burst
through the dirt of
the grave, something flaring into the Force with life.
Even
before the copper color of the hair broke out through the surface
Qui-Gon knew
because the Force was blubbering in his ears as he dropped to his
damaged knees on the blue grass and helped the other out of the
grave, hands desperately digging around and then wrapping around the
others all too familiar body to pull.
It
had been four years, two months, three weeks, two days and fifteen
hours since Qui-Gon had last held his heart bonded.
And
as Anakin finally closed the distance to stare in disbelief, Qui-Gon
held his dirty, traumatized and shaking heart bonded as Obi-Wan
Kenobi once more drew oxygen into his lungs while spitting dirt out
of his mouth, his bleeding and earth covered hands fisting into
Qui-Gon’s beige tunic, covering the older Jedi in all the earth had
to offer.
And
if it meant never being clean again to have this than Qui-Gon was
more than happy to be covered in dirt as he desperately stroked
Obi-Wan’s hair and face, his ears numb for anything but Obi-Wan’s
hitched desperate breaths.
The
other smells of earth and decay, his clothes are falling part and
Qui-Gon can’t find it in him to care
as he buries his face in Obi-Wan’s hair and sobs as a confused,
broken but
oh so beloved and missed voice
whimpers at him. “Qui?”
SWpromptsandask 