Chapter Text
The blatant apology visible on Quinlan Vos' flickering holoimage should have made Obi-Wan Kenobi more suspicious. "I can't believe you're roping me into this."
"What else can I do, Obi-Wan?" The Kiffar shrugged helplessly as he paced back and forth. "You're my only hope."
"You could start by not dumping your undercover investigations on me at the very last second," retorted Obi-Wan, frowning. "Your timing is pretty karking questionable, Quin."
Quinlan snorted. "Now I know it's serious when you start swearing out loud."
"Quinlan." Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest. "You are making my life difficult."
"I don't have a choice!" Throwing up his hands in frustration, Quinlan blew out a deep breath.
"We all have the choice to take a Padawan," sniped Obi-Wan. "That's the entire basis of our whole education system. You"—he stabbed his finger at the affronted holoprojection—"chose to take an apprentice six hours before your scheduled, long-term undercover mission, and now you're dumping the assignment on me."
"Only because I know you're short this kind of mission before they finally deem you a senior Knight," replied Quinlan, projecting far more cheer than Obi-Wan thought he should be given the circumstances. "You get the credit and the promotion, I get the joys of apprenticing, Aayla gets a Master instead of aging out, everyone wins!"
"Six hours, Quin!"
"It was the will of the Force!" Quinlan cried in desperation. He started to pace, and his image flickered as the recording system lagged. "Wait 'til you meet her, she's adorable and terrifying. Her hands—her hands are tiny, Obi-Wan, I mean she's practically pocket-sized and she'll need an itty bitty lightsaber, and I'm afraid I'll lose her the first time we go out in a crowd—"
"Quinlan!" snapped Obi-Wan in an attempt to stop the babbling that was bordering on hysteria.
"What?"
"Did the Council approve my standing in for you?"
Finally standing still long enough for the holoimaging equipment to catch up, the small image of Quinlan coalesced into sharp focus. "Oh. Yes. Master Yoda seemed particularly pleased that I recommended you. Everything's dotted and crossed." The yellow stripe across his face twitched once. "I trust you on this one. I know it's not your usual mission, Obi-Wan, but…" He cocked his head in an odd expression of compassion.
"But what?" sighed the redhead.
"You've been out in the wilderness for five years. People are starting to forget what you look like. Maybe it would do you good to stick around somewhere for longer than a week. Remember what planetary gravity and fresh air and sunlight feel like, you know?"
There was a note of concern in the Kiffar's voice that grated on Obi-Wan; he pursed his lips in annoyance. "Send your prep notes and the mission brief. You caught me before we completely bypassed the system."
Quinlan grinned, his features bright with relief. "I owe you, Obi-Wan."
"Yes, you do," retorted Obi-Wan. "Oh, and Quin?"
"Yeah?"
"Congratulations on the Padawan. At the bare minimum, keep her alive so I can meet her when I get back." The comm system beeped in warning. "We're about to hit EM interference—"
The transmission cut out as Quinlan laughed, leaving Obi-Wan standing in the dark comms room. He dragged his hands down his face, scratching at his beard, and let his shoulders slump. Why was it impossible to say no to Quinlan Vos? "More fool me," Obi-Wan muttered as the computer screen flashed with new documents, and he flicked through the mission brief.
Jedi anthropologists, who had been studying local Force sensitive, pre-hyperdrive population, were missing. That was concerning, having partnered Jedi disappear from an undercover research operation. At least it was unlikely they had left the planet. Obi-Wan skimmed over the rest of the brief, his tired eyes tracking words with difficulty. When he reached the bottom of the document, he frowned and shook his head, then scrolled back over the text once more. He skimmed through Quinlan's scant prep notes.
He swore in Huttese and pinched the bridge of his nose in anticipation of the oncoming headache. At no point did anyone mention who his mission partner was going to be.
The coordinates placed his tiny landing shuttle in a small clearing amongst tall coniferous trees. Obi-Wan clambered out of the cramped craft, fussing with the canvas bag slung over his shoulder. Quinlan's sparse notes had, at least, provided some of the arrival procedure, and he mentally rehearsed it: after the craft auto-returned to the ship, follow the game trail for ten kilometres, proceed due west for another three until he found the village. His mission partner was supposed to meet him there.
After a very long walk.
Hitching his bag a little higher, Obi-Wan stepped onto the narrow track worn over the years by local wildlife. As he moved beneath the canopy, the Force brushed over him gently—not in warning, but as though he was supposed to pay attention. He paused. The forest floor, piled thickly with fallen needles, absorbed noise; the birdcalls seemed muted. Obi-Wan could hear his own heart beating in his chest, and he took a deep breath. Cool air thrumming with the green tinge of living plants and the soft currents of the wind filled him, and for a melancholy moment, he thought of Qui-Gon.
As Obi-Wan had been absent from the Temple for half a decade after his hasty knighting on Naboo, so Qui-Gon had thrown himself into endless missions—but only after a very public thrashing by the High Council for the actions that nearly got him killed by the Sith. Obi-Wan had already spent a year away when a chance encounter with Bant had revealed the gory details. Forbidden from taking another apprentice for a decade and mandated to have a supervisory mission partner for at least a year, the just-healed Qui-Gon Jinn had once again played the maverick by renouncing his title of Jedi Master; when the Council had refused to accept, he had threatened to leave the Order altogether.
So where Master Jinn had been the preferred Jedi for difficult and complex negotiations in high Coruscanti circles, Knight Jinn broke up slavery rings in the Outer Rim. Usually with his lightsaber. According to scuttlebutt, the Council continued to throw mission partners at him, all of whom returned and swore never to work with him again.
Obi-Wan sighed, trying to brush away the feelings that always crept up on him when he thought about his old Master. Five years of solving kidnappings and organized crime and local political disputes with no downtime had still not been enough to purge Obi-Wan’s love for the man.
But he was a Jedi Knight now. Love was a luxury he could not have, least of all for someone who could never love him back.
He cleared his throat and tried not to notice the satisfying feel of real earth beneath his soles.
As the single sun set, it threw long, spindly shadows across the fields. Obi-Wan walked in a narrow alley, topped on both sides by grain plants taller than he was. His feet were tired, his muscles protesting the sudden pull of real gravity after so much time spent standing on artificial gravity plating. He debated pulling out his compass to check his heading when the grain field ended abruptly. The dirt beneath his feet was dry and dusty, pounded hard by boots and draft animals, and he found himself staring at a cluster of wooden buildings with thatched roofs. He squinted in the fading light, trying to catch the details of the group of adults who had paused in their work to watch him warily—
Suddenly, he was engulfed in a tight embrace. Obi-Wan struggled, his first instinct to fight taking over, but an oh-so-familiar voice rumbled in his ear as the strong smells of tea and sunshine flooded his senses. An ache gripped his heart—
"Obi-Wan? Please don't take this the wrong way, but what the kriffing hells are you doing here?"
Stunned, Obi-Wan slowly raised his arms and rested them awkwardly against Qui-Gon Jinn's back. "What am I doing here? What are you doing here?" hissed Obi-Wan against the taller man's neck.
"I'm on an undercover mission," Qui-Gon replied with whispered bemusement. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm your mission partner," said Obi-Wan. "Quinlan backed out."
Qui-Gon squeezed Obi-Wan once before untangling himself from the Knight, but as he moved away, he grabbed Obi-Wan's hand. The feeling of warm skin against his palm was almost electric; Obi-Wan could not help his sharp inhale. Qui-Gon waved with his free hand towards the others, but through his smile, he murmured, "They're going to separate us now. They won't hurt you in any way. Just go along with it. I'll join you as soon as I can."
"I'm going to kill Quin," muttered Obi-Wan. "Straight up murder."
Qui-Gon snorted a laugh. "Why?"
"Because he didn't mention you," Obi-Wan replied quickly as the locals approached. Qui-Gon's expression shifted for the briefest of moments, almost as though he were stunned, before he replaced his smile for the villagers.
True to Qui-Gon's word, Obi-Wan was not harmed. Chivvied along by a group of white-haired women, laughing and chattering amongst themselves, he was herded into an unassuming timber building. The rough floor planks inside were swept clean, and the deep fireplace kept the air overly warm. In the middle of the room, a polished copper bathtub, big enough for a man to drown himself in, sat waiting. Steam curled above the tub.
The smallest of the women, bent back and lined face speaking of a life spent working in the sun, looked up at him with a toothy grin. "Well?"
"Well what?" he replied automatically, and the women laughed.
"They bathe fully dressed where you're from?" asked the old woman.
"Ah." Obi-Wan glanced around at his audience, and the old woman snorted.
"Shy, eh?" She rolled her eyes. "Nothing none of us haven't seen before. Between us I think we have twenty-five children."
"Twenty-six, Vina," corrected the woman stuffing a log beneath the enormous kettle hanging in the fireplace.
"Right, Sigal, my apologies," replied Vina. "But if you're truly protecting your virtue, sweet boy, there's a screen in the corner. Towel's on the stool behind it."
"Er, thanks." Obi-Wan ducked behind a screen woven from dried grass with more than a little relief. Another titter of laughter followed him. He sat on the stool and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to take stock for just a moment.
Something about this place felt strange. He did not sense any immediate danger, but neither could he sense the women in the room beyond a very faint indication that they existed. Even nulls appeared stronger in the Force than these people. In that part of his existence where he kept constant tabs on the Force, all he found was a low-level buzzing.
Vina's gravelly voice interrupted him. "The water's not getting any warmer, child."
Maybe it was his growing concern about the Force here. Maybe it was the overwhelming surprise of finding Qui-Gon here, or maybe it was the fresh air and sunlight. Obi-Wan poked his head around the screen and retorted, "I have a beard."
"And it is delightful, but you're still a boy until you're married," cackled Vina. "Now hurry up and get in the tub. You don't want to catch a chill."
While bathing with an audience of elderly women was not his preferred method, the offer of soaking his bones in a tall tub of hot water was too tempting. Obi-Wan shucked his clothes and tugged off his boots, wrapped the towel around his hips, and ducked around the screen. The women studiously and mercifully looked away as he slipped into the bath. Vina grabbed his towel before it fell onto the floor.
A sigh of pleasure escaped him as the water enveloped him. Vina perched on a stool next to the tub and angled her body away from him to give him some privacy. "Soap?" She held out a round cake of yellow soap without looking at him. The floral notes were strong and unfamiliar.
"Can I have a minute?" he asked, a little more plaintively than he had intended. The hot water was a blessing from the Force; he could not actually remember the last time he had had the luxury of an actual bath.
"Of course, child," Vina replied with a little smile. "Qui-Gon wouldn't tell us the name of his intended."
"Obi-Wan Kenobi."
"Welcome to Meadow's Edge, Obi-Wan Kenobi," Vina said. "We are honoured that you would make the journey to be married here."
Obi-Wan ducked his head under the water to give himself a moment to think. Godsdamnit, Quinlan you asshole, how do you function without mission notes? When he emerged, he wiped the rivulets out of his eyes and replied, "It is an honour to be here for such an important ceremony."
That seemed to be the correct answer. The women hummed in agreement. "So," he said casually, plucking the soap from Vina's weathered palm, "I've never been married before."
Around him, the women erupted into laughter. "You don't say," Vina replied dryly, then scoffed. "You don't need me to explain sex, do you? The last time I had to do that, I think I scared the poor girl into celibacy."
It was assumed that he and Qui-Gon would be—the heat rising on his cheeks was from the hot water, surely. "Ah, no, thank you," he said primly. Sigal snickered behind her hand. "I was just wondering how marriage ceremonies differ here from my home."
"I'm sure it's pretty similar." Vina waved her hand in front of her dismissively. "The elders say the words, you drink from the cup, you and your partner tell a story, then we all get to eat and drink and dance for the rest of the night. You don't have to wait too much longer, don't worry. Finish your bath. Antha over there will help you put on your new clothes, then all you need to do is wait." The elderly woman reached out and patted him gently on the head. "Today is the day you become whole, darling boy. You need not be so anxious."
Obi-Wan lathered the bar of soap and began to wash, wishing he could wash away the thoughts churning in his mind along with that odd lack of feeling in the Force.
****
He sat alone, nerves increasingly jangled, for quite some time until the sound of voices outside caught his attention. Obi-Wan pressed his eye to a crack in the door and watched as Qui-Gon slipped around the bath hut, only to come face to face with the door guard. Stooped and round, the man Vina had introduced as Linos looked at the former Master with a raised eyebrow. Qui-Gon sighed. "Oh, come on, Linos, please? I need to speak to him."
"Like I haven't heard that one before," Linos croaked, tapping his walking stick on the stones half-hidden in the ground. "You unmarried children all think you're so original."
"Linos, it's very important," Qui-Gon pressed.
"You get to kiss him after the ceremony."
Qui-Gon sighed. "I'll spend a week on lambing duty for you."
"That's not until the spring!" protested the old man, scratching his patchy beard.
"Two weeks."
Linos snorted and glanced at the door. "Five minutes. I suppose you can't get into too much trouble in five minutes."
Qui-Gon's reply was drier than dust. "I've previously managed to hold things together for five minutes."
Rolling his eyes, Linos opened the door. "When I open this again I expect everyone to be fully dressed."
Obi-Wan dashed back to the stool by the fire and arranged himself on it as though he had been there the entire time. As Qui-Gon slipped over the threshold, Obi-Wan turned to watch him with a small smile playing upon his lips. "Hello there."
With a smile, Qui-Gon stepped closer. "Hi."
"You're looking well, Qui-Gon," noted Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon huffed with slight amusement. "The last time I saw you, you were barely out of the bacta tank, so I must say, the improvement is heartening."
It was true; Obi-Wan ignored his heart beating faster as he took in the sight of his former Master. He had let his hair grow a bit longer, and the edges of his temples had gone completely silver, and his skin held the bronze tinge of too much time in the sun. Clad in a plain, roughly-spun tunic and leggings with a pair of boots that had seen better days, Qui-Gon Jinn looked more like a farmer than he did a Jedi. He did, however, look pleased to see Obi-Wan.
"You look spacebound," Qui-Gon said softly.
Obi-Wan ducked his head uncomfortably. The words were true, but he had managed five years without anyone noticing his too-pale skin and dark circles under his eyes. "I only have a few minutes. I had to bribe your ceremonial guard."
"They have particularly hardened gaolers here," noted Obi-Wan wryly. "That wasn't in Quinlan's briefing notes."
"So how is it you're here instead of him?"
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "He took an apprentice at the last minute and literally begged me to take his place. I stepped in for him only a few hours before I arrived here."
Qui-Gon stilled, watching Obi-Wan with a sharp gaze for a long moment, before humming. "I see. Did Knight Vos have notes on what will happen next?"
"No, and believe me, he's getting an earful when I see him. I can't understand how he's still alive, frankly, given his godsawful prep materials."
At this information, Qui-Gon shifted ever so slightly from one foot to the other--a nervous tell he rarely let loose. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. "What don't I know?"
"Adults are expected to be married here," Qui-Gon explained in a rush, barely making eye contact. "I've been here for three months and they haven't fully accepted me because my partner isn't with me, but now that you're here, we go through the ceremony. We live together, we keep the illusion of happy matrimony, find our missing Jedi, maybe take some field notes to get back into the Council's less terrible graces, and in six months our evac shuttle meets us in the clearing."
Obi-Wan shifted in surprise. "That wasn't in the brief."
"I'm sorry," Qui-Gon said. "It's not an easy cover."
“No, it’s not.” Showing his affection, outwardly and publicly, for the man he loved would be easy. Pretending it was not real in the moments when they were alone—that would be the difficult task. "But it's fine," Obi-Wan reassured him with a dismissive wave. "Easier that we're not strangers, I suppose."
"Let me know if you have any problems?" Qui-Gon said, sounding purely professional.
"I don't foresee any, but I've never been married before, have I?" He shot the older man a grin, and Qui-Gon chuckled.
"I have missed you, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan smiled up at him, biting back a bit of frustration. With their Padawan bond severed long ago, Obi-Wan did not have an immediate sense of what the other man was feeling. "I've missed you, too. What's this about a story?"
"This place carries an oral tradition to keep their history. We will be expected to tell a story tonight."
"What kind of story?" asked Obi-Wan a little dubiously.
Hesitant, Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "A story about finding your other half." He paused, then added, "To be married here is to be a complete person."
Obi-Wan said nothing, but he stroked the beard on his chin and stared into the fire in contemplation. What could he say? There was no backing out now. A light tap on the door interrupted their silence, and Linos poked his head around the door. "Time's up," he warned, casting a suspicious eye over the pair.
"I'll see you soon," Qui-Gon said, a little louder than necessary. He stepped close to Obi-Wan and dropped a kiss on the crown of his head. Obi-Wan stiffened under the unexpected touch, and Qui-Gon retreated with apology in his eyes.
Obi-Wan hopped off the stool and seized Qui-Gon's hand, tugging him close. He stretched up on his toes and laid a gentle kiss on Qui-Gon's cheek. "He's still watching us," whispered Obi-Wan before settling back on his perch.
From the door, Linos grunted in wry approval. "That's enough of that."
Qui-Gon fled the bath hut without a backwards glance. Obi-Wan watched him go with the smell of tea and soap in his nostrils.
****
Two moons orbited this world, both painted in shades of dusky red. With twilight upon the village, the moons crowned the sky like jewels hanging in the fabric of space. Obi-Wan let himself be led to the large green space where, it would seem, the entire population of the village waited with noisy enthusiasm. Weddings, apparently, were the highlight of society here, and not even babes in arms missed the occasion. Vina's hand was firmly entrenched in the crook of his elbow as they walked slowly towards the gathered crowd. She reached over and patted his arm. "You'll be fine, child," she told him firmly. "Remember to breathe, or you'll pass out."
"Thanks for the helpful hint," replied Obi-Wan with a smile. He liked the old woman already.
"Same advice applies for later on this evening," she said slyly, sending Obi-Wan into a choking cough of surprise.
"Noted," he managed to reply.
The crowd, with each adult holding a lantern or lit taper, parted for them. Vina led Obi-Wan to a circle of fist-sized stones arranged in the grass. In the soft, flickering light, Obi-Wan lifted his gaze and found his mouth instantly dry. Qui-Gon stood in the circle, watching him with those piercing blue eyes and an inscrutable expression. Dressed in a fine linen shirt and dark green leggings that matched Obi-Wan's outfit, Qui-Gon wore a wide woven sash, intricately knotted in a mirror of the one the old women had tied for Obi-Wan, around his waist. His silver and brown hair had been pulled back into a single braid that draped over his shoulder. Someone had placed a garland of flowers in a riot of colours around his neck.
Obi-Wan had forgotten how beautiful the man was.
Another garland appeared as if by magic, and anonymous hands flipped it over Obi-Wan's head and settled it against his chest. The unfamiliar but sweet perfume of the flowers bore strong resemblance to the yellow soap. Vina extricated her hand from Obi-Wan's elbow and gave him a gentle shove in Qui-Gon's direction. Obi-Wan stumbled over a stone; Qui-Gon reached out and grabbed his arms to keep him upright. Teasing laughter rippled over the crowd. "Thanks," Obi-Wan whispered.
"Any time," replied Qui-Gon, but his hand slid down Obi-Wan's arm until he entwined their fingers. The lightsaber calluses on Qui-Gon's fingertips were rough against the back of Obi-Wan's hand.
Vina and Linos, flanked by the women who had supervised his bath and another handful of elderly men, made a semi-circle around the Jedi. She began to speak, but everything seemed fade away as Qui-Gon reached for Obi-Wan's other hand. Obi-Wan's world tightened into two points of contact, skin on skin, and the intense gaze of Qui-Gon Jinn, unreadable. He drank from a fine pottery cup that Qui-Gon held, letting the cool water soothe his dry throat, then held the same cup to Qui-Gon's lips.
Vina poked him in the arm suddenly. "Your story?" she prompted in a quiet undertone.
Overwhelmed by Qui-Gon's full attention and the feeling of their fingers laced together and the loud static of the Force vibrating his bones, Obi-Wan opened his mouth and lied. "I met Qui-Gon on a day that was otherwise completely unremarkable," he said. "He had come to my home in his travels, and the moment I saw him, I knew he was the other half of me, and he knew I was the other half of him."
Qui-Gon's lips tightened minutely in his otherwise perfectly calm mask, but then he smiled brightly. "I asked Obi-Wan to marry me under a blossoming tree in spring. The white petals fell upon us like the softest rain, and when he said yes, the leaves on the tree shook as if in applause."
The crowd gasped and murmured to themselves in delight at his details. Vina, however, surveyed them with narrowed eyes for a moment before speaking. "Then as the eldest of us all, we proclaim Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi to be one heart. May your days together be long and joyous," she intoned, then gazed at them expectantly.
Qui-Gon, bless the Force for one of them knowing what the kriff was going on, stepped into Obi-Wan's space and slowly bent his head. Obi-Wan ignored the tight knot of anticipation in his belly, reminding himself that this was all an act, none of it was real, he did not just marry Qui-Gon and their impending kiss did not mean a single damned thing—
Qui-Gon's lips were soft and supple, his palm cupped Obi-Wan's cheek, and Obi-Wan Kenobi thought that if he were to be struck dead at this moment, at least he would be happy.