Work Text:
With a little bit of gentle persuasion, the houseplant returns from near-death.
Yellowing leaves turn emerald green. Vines gracefully reveal the miniature white flowers clustered between every leaf.
Qui-Gon feels his plant sing in the Living Force, grateful and vibrant. It fills his mind with peace, and Qui-Gon lets it bleed through him, bleed into his posture and his expression. He smiles.
He is still smiling when he notices Obi-Wan.
Qui-Gon has to admit that he should've known better. Obi-Wan couldn't keep a plant alive if his life depended on it. But he had asked, somewhat too trustingly, and extremely naively, if Obi-Wan could look after his potted plants while he was gone.
Qui-Gon tries to give his apprentice forgiveness. He pushes it through their bond, but he feels the cold wall of Obi-Wan's mind shield. It is impregnable, a fortress of the mind, perfect and practiced and just like the young man himself, trying too hard.
Obi-Wan's eyes are like precious gems. Qui-Gon would hoard him if he would allow it. But in those eyes he sees just a glimmer of confusion and an excess of admiration.
"Is that the Living Force, master?" Obi-Wan asks, and Qui-Gon tries not to hit himself as he remembers -- Obi-Wan was all but numb to the Living Force.
"Yes." Qui-Gon answers after a moment, somewhat dumbly.
He takes the plant from its hook and holds it steady. Obi-Wan expresses his curiosity with his fingers on most days. Fingers as pale as moonlight touch a leaf, and then the vine.
Gaining confidence, Obi-Wan nudges a flower as carefully as an excited twelve year old can manage. His eyes are bright and shining until the flower comes loose and lands in his palm.
Obi-Wan is very much like that little white bloom, Qui-Gon muses. So dangerously delicate.
Obi-Wan looks up, and Qui-Gon meets his gaze unhesitatingly even though he knows what he'll see. Obi-Wan is guilty, self-punishing, and his lips are pulled taut as he does what he always does; he tries too hard, does too much, attempts to be stronger than he is.
Qui-Gon coaxes him back to life, too. A flush of color hits Obi-Wan's freckled cheeks and he blooms, opening his heart.
"I ruin everything," He breathes the words like a painful confession, like the sigh of the wind through leafless trees. "I don't know why you want me, master."
His little fingers curl around the flower. The self-punishment continues in silence.
Obi-Wan was too young at the time to remember how they met. He didn't remember his mother, or Stewjon, or the crypt of a manor he had lived in. There was no way to describe Qui-Gon's sense of obligation to the boy without offending him, without making him feel like luggage.
Instead, Qui-Gon sets the plant aside and places a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, steady and warm.
"You are one of the most promising padawans I have ever had the pleasure of meeting." Qui-Gon says the words that he knows will mean the most to young Obi-Wan. They are sweet with loving truth.
Obi-Wan looks at him with eyes brimming with tears. They quiver against his waterline, threatening to spill over.
"I can't feel the Living Force," Obi-Wan says, but Qui-Gon has known this for a very long time. With a little extra coaxing, Obi-Wan breathes deeply and continues, "And I hurt your plant, and I can't understand why everyone wants to see my mind, and I don't know how to feel the trees, and I've stepped on thirteen beetles today without meaning to, and I don't feel the way you feel, and-"
Qui-Gon is overwhelmed by the rush of words. Obi-Wan buries his face in Qui-Gon's robes, red to the tips of his ears and tearful.
"Obi-Wan, listen to me." He rubs circles on his padawan's back, between his shoulder blades. He can feel every quivering breath and silent sob. "If you focus only on your shortcomings, you won't notice where you succeed."
Obi-Wan is listening. In the Living Force, his attention feels like running a palm over a bolt of shimmersilk.
"You're gifted with the Unifying Force. The likes of which I have never seen."
Obi-Wan knows this to be true. Concepts that mystify most padawans are easily within his grasp. He excels in his powers, and his mind-shield is dense enough that on most days Qui-Gon can't sense even peripheral thoughts from his apprentice. Every thought is guarded; even the silly considerations of a pre-teen, which Qui-Gon is certain that even Obi-Wan must have.
Qui-Gon takes Obi-Wan's hand and coaxes him once more. Little fingers unclench, and the white flower sits like a pearl in his palm.
"There is nothing in the universe more precious to me than my padawan." Qui-Gon says. It is an attachment-adjacent admission, but it means the world to Obi-Wan.
With a small amount of focus, Qui-Gon breathes more life into the flower. It withers and curls, but soon sprouts tender roots no longer than the length of one fingernail.
"And you must always remember this, Obi-Wan; life is everywhere, and not so easy to destroy."