The Jedi And The Warrior

Attachment Is Forbidden

The morning of Obi-Wan's departure dawned cold and grey, an east wind rattling the window panes of the tall buildings that gleamed like sharpened swords in the half-light. Wind was rare in Coruscant, especially wind like this, that whipped Flyra's thick cloak about her. Coruscant was sheltered by the planets in the Mid Core, not to mention the atmosphere around the city planet was calmer than most anyway. She couldn't help feeling it was some omen of ill will for the trip.

Obi-Wan and his master could be seen as grey shapes in the twilight as they supervised the loading of their starfighter. Flyra stood beneath the entrance to the landing pad, leaning against the wall beneath the shadow of the archway, her cloak wrapped tightly around her.

Obi-Wan hadn't taken the Trials. He'd convinced his master — and the Council, somehow — that this mission to Naboo could be his final test before officially taking the Trials; that he would like a little more time to prepare himself.

Flyra watched him extend an arm to point a droid in the right direction — he had returned to that composed, measured, unruffled state she simultaneously hated and could not stop watching. She hadn't seen him much since that night a week ago, which was probably just as well, since every time she saw him she blushed shamelessly. She couldn't stop thinking about it, the way he'd made her feel — how he'd made sure she found her pleasure, repeatedly, before he ever found his own.

He'd been gone in the morning, but his warmth had lingered, a cocoon of his scent and being that lulled her back into sleep. It had been late afternoon when she truly woke, and she had not tried to leave her chambers for the rest of the day. The following week had been filled with quiet days in the library, reading gloriously dull records of the various members of the Senate, especially the ambassador for Naboo, Chancellor Palpatine.

Strange, that he had simply appeared as Senator out of seemingly nowhere, the heir of a powerful family that had fallen into disarray, and then disappeared entirely from all records, until now. Flyra would very much like to know what he had been doing in the intervening years between the death of his parents and his emergence as Senator of Naboo.

A movement by the starfighter caught her eye. Obi-Wan was approaching her, while Qui-Gon climbed into the underbelly of the ship. She straightened, uncrossing her arms, as Obi-Wan halted in front of her.

"Stay safe," he said, softly enough that only she could hear him.

"And you," she said, peering into his eyes which betrayed almost nothing of the thoughts beneath. "Try not to let the negotiations go on for too long, I know what you're like once you get started on a planet's geo-technical —"

"Oh, do shut up about that," Obi-Wan said, but he was smiling. "Besides, I didn't hear you complaining about my thoroughness that night."

Flyra blushed, unable to meet his gaze. Though she was somehow aware of his smile, which twisted into something infinitely tender and laden with unspoken feeling.

A silence stretched between them, broken at last when Flyra took his hand, the movement blocked from sight by the angle of their bodies.

"Really, Obi-Wan," she murmured, "be safe. It would be horribly ironic if you died on this mission."

He let out a breath of a laugh. "I'm not going to die," he told her. "I'm not quite that reckless."

Flyra's only answer was to wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his chest. She almost sobbed when he answered with his own embrace, when he held her tight against him. It was brief, because there were eyes watching, but she whispered as they drew apart,

"Come back to me, Obi-Wan."

He nodded. "I will come back," he answered. "I promise."

And then he was striding away, and she was watching his cloak billow behind him on a phantom wind, watching him climb into the starfighter beside his master, watching the ship whine to life and lift from the platform. Watching it soar high above her, and disappear into the many flight lanes, lost amongst the thousand other ships that streamed above the city.

Flyra did not leave the platform until the warmth of him had long gone from her body.

***

Beyond the ship the world was black, speckled with countless stars that seemed to hang suspended from an untraceable source. The echoing silence of hyperspace was around them, and the Queen and her handmaidens had long since retired to bed.

Obi-Wan wrapped his cloak around himself, the soft whine of the machines in the control room lulling him into a half-aware doze punctuated by flashes of waking. He had been thinking of Flyra, and his slumber delved deep into the uncharted regions of his psyche, reminding him of her body against his, of the absolute love in her eyes. He didn't deserve that kind of love, not when he couldn't ever return it.

What was he going to do?

The question had plagued him all the way to Naboo, and chased him all the way through the rather aggressive negotiations that had taken place on the planet, and darkened his dreams now, beneath the shroud of silent darkness.

And the worst part was that he knew what his answer had to be, and did not have the heart to accept it.

"Obi-Wan."

He drew in a breath through his nose, lifting his head from where it rested on his arms. Qui-Gon stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a small frown settled between his brows. He strode into the room, letting the door slide shut behind him.

"Master," Obi-Wan said, straightening up and shaking out his sleeves. "Is anything wrong?"

Qui-Gon didn't answer for a moment, leaning against the far wall. Obi-Wan could hear the steady beeping of one of the controls in the quiet. An almost heavy quiet, as though Qui-Gon wished it to weigh upon Obi-Wan.

"You've been unusually distant, my young Padawan," he said at last.

Obi-Wan flicked his eyes from his master to the screens cataloguing their flight path to Tatooine. "I am only... concerned about the delay," he said, frowning. "Every hour lost hastens Naboo's defeat."

Qui-Gon nodded, slowly, contemplatively, as if he could feel Obi-Wan's lie.

"You know I have always taught you to follow the Code with intelligence and discretion," he began. Obi-Wan gave a brief nod, trying to communicate his confusion. "The Code says that any attachment is forbidden, but I disagree. There is a difference between care, and possession, a difference between love and attachment. A Jedi can love, and form attachments, so long as they are able to let go of that which they love, should the Force call for it. How else can the bond between master and Padawan be explained?"

He sighed heavily, and Obi-Wan already knew what he was getting at. Qui-Gon knew, about his feelings for Flyra, knew, perhaps, what they had done.

"Master, you know I am loyal to the Council," he said. "You know I would give my life to the Jedi. To the galaxy."

Qui-Gon looked at him, contemplated him for a long while. "I know," he said at last. "I only ask — that you are careful."